When I was little and first learning to read, I came across the book, If Jesus Came to My House. I was captivated by the idea that I could entertain Jesus in my very own bedroom, serving him tea and playing with him. The illustrations showed various scenes of how I might be kind to others as a way to please him.

The book stuck with me, so much so that I agonized about when he might actually show up.  Would I be wearing nice clothes? Would my room be tidy? I didn’t get the part about him coming to the door of my heart and living inside me.  But years later, I did.  

And it was a cozy thing to believe, all over again, that Jesus would come to me, personally, and go through every single day with me. Even better was realizing I could lay down the angst of wondering when he would show up. He was already there and had been, ever since I first invited him.

Today’s passages show us where else God lives.

Zechariah 12-13

Sadly, God’s people as a nation haven’t invited him in. They’ve gone through religious motions for generations, keeping the laws of Moses, some with meticulous perfection, but they’ve missed the heart of what God wants from them. Worse, they’ve rejected his choice of Savior. 

But here, Zechariah prophesies that the day is coming when the Jewish people will be given “a spirit of grace and prayer,” so that their eyes are opened. They’ll recognize Jesus, the one “they so grievously wounded,” and embrace him for who he is for them. They’ll weep and mourn deeply “as of a parent grieving the loss of their firstborn….” A fountain of forgiveness will be opened for them, and God will wipe away their idol worship and get rid of the teachers who’ve mislead them, Ze 12:10-13:6 MSG.

So we don’t forget, God reminds us what it takes to open that cleansing fountain: the sword must “get moving against my shepherd,” to kill him and scatter the sheep, because it takes Jesus’ death to open heaven to earth. God will bring a refining fire to test and purify them, and the aftermath will be that one day, “they’ll pray to me by name, and I’ll answer them personally.” God will say, “‘That’s my people.’ And they’ll say, ‘God—my God!’” Ze 13:7-9 MSG.

This is the drill for anyone who comes to God, Jewish or not. It takes God’s Spirit to move in us, “a spirit of grace and prayer,” so that we finally see who Jesus is and what he’s done–the Good Shepherd slain for his sheep–and we’re moved to repent for trying to live life in our own strength. There’s a sense of deep grief and loss for the years we’ve fought him, for the sin we’ve been addicted to, for the ways we’ve hurt others as we’ve flailed about without him, Ze 12:10-14, 13:7-8 MSG.

But coming to Jesus doesn’t end in grief—it ends in joy. The fountain of forgiveness Jesus opens up is unending. It’s not like the fountain at the splash park that’s turned off and on seasonally. This fountain is continually flowing and available, just for the asking, and it makes us clean, as if we’d never sinned in the first place, Ze 13:1.

What’s more, God does what’s needed to rid us of our precious idols.  He loosens our grip on the things we think we can’t live without.  We stop listening to the voices around us and focus on hearing his.  And he brings trials to cut away the things that hold us back, so we learn to ask for his help and depend on him to give it, Ze 13:2-3.

God was all-inclusive before it was trendy, and his plan of salvation is the same for everyone. We’re all his enemies in the beginning, whether Jew or Gentile, African or American, Presbyterian or Catholic. No one is good enough, no one listens and gets it. Everyone needs his Spirit to wise up and be humble enough to come to him.

Regardless of who you are, where you’ve come from, or what you’ve done, you’re included. Everybody who wants to can become God’s son or daughter. Everybody must look to Jesus and get washed in the fountain. The offer is the same for absolutely everyone.

This in itself is humbling. Nobody has a leg up or a better seat than anyone else. It’s been said that “the ground is level at the foot of the cross,” because nobody’s sin disqualifies—or good deeds qualify—them. We’re all in need of the same fountain of forgiveness. And we all get the same beloved son or daughter treatment.

My father stumbled badly in my eyes for years, and I judged him harshly for it.  I was undone not only by what he did, but by how he lied about it.  I believed I’d never do such a thing—until one day, I did.  

That was when I learned two things: I need Jesus. And I am no better than anybody else. Daddy’s open-armed forgiveness was a wonderful place to land, and our relationship was healed—only God could bring life out of misery like this—but even better was how his compassion helped me believe in God’s compassion for me. Daddy wasn’t perfect by any means, but he taught me a lot about the Father that God is.

I don’t get to be outraged over the sins of others. I don’t get to feel inferior, either. Sin-is-sin and it’s all ugly, whether it’s yours or mine, whether it’s the sin of betrayal or the sin of self-satisfaction in thinking you’re above it all.

God lives in the humble heart.

Revelation 19

This chapter includes two very different metaphors for what happens in our lives with Jesus. There’s a wedding, complete with bride and bridegroom and a wedding supper. The marriage metaphor points to the intimacy we experience in our relationship with Jesus. But there’s also a war to be waged, complete with hero and villain. This battle metaphor points to the fight we’re engaged in of good versus evil.

The central figure in each of these scenes is Jesus—the Bridegroom-Lamb, who is our husband, and the Warrior-Rider, who is “Faithful and True.” I love both descriptions of Jesus as the intimate Lover we get to hang out with at supper, and the Avenger on the white horse who’s the BA with tattoos, Re 19:6-9, 11-16 MSG.

Eugene Peterson writes that both of these seemingly opposite metaphors “must be kept in tension if we’re to have balance in our spiritual lives. If the marriage metaphor isn’t balanced with the war metaphor, we’re in danger of romanticizing the spiritual life.

“If the war metaphor isn’t balanced with the marriage metaphor, we’re in danger of depersonalizing the spiritual life.  We’re a bride who is embroiled in a battle against the enemies of her beloved groom.  Both images are true and necessary…,” The Message Devotional Bible, NavPress, 2018, box section, p. 1524.

Jesus is both the lover who knows us and the warrior who fights for us. If that doesn’t elicit passion and devotion, I don’t know what does.

Jesus lives with the bride he battles for.

Psalm 147

“Praise is fitting,” the psalmist writes, because God does good things for us.

He rebuilds and regathers, heals and bandages, keeps track of stars and names them, has unlimited strength and wisdom, picks up the fallen and knocks down the wicked, fills the sky with clouds and brings rain, feeds cattle and crows, greens up the mountains, makes cities secure and watches over your kids, puts bread on your tables, controls harsh weather and brings spring, Ps 147:2-6, 8-11, 13-18.

God does a lot for us, but it’s not our striving in kind that gets his notice. He’s not impressed with horsepower or manpower. He “delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love,” Ps 147:10-11 NIV, emphasis added.

Our response to him isn’t to try-harder-to-do-better in our own strength: it’s to celebrate his strength in doing what we could never do for ourselves. We get to sing and make music, to worship him with praise. God does all the heavy lifting, so we get to fall on our faces and simply adore him, Ps 147:1, 7, 10-12 MSG.

Here’s yet another reminder that what God wants isn’t my doing but being captivated by his doing for me. I need daily reminders like this one, as I’m pretty dug-in to doing rather than praising and celebrating.

The Spirit lives in our celebrating with him.

Prayer

God, Thank you for the humbling you bring–otherwise, I’d still think I don’t need you. Thank you for the honeymoon and the battle we’re in–otherwise, I wouldn’t know you as my Lover-Warrior. Thank you for the good you’ve done and keep doing for me–otherwise, I’d have nothing to celebrate. Thank you for living in me and for letting me live in you, too.

In Jesus’ name.

Proverbs 31:4-7

Getting drunk hurts the people you lead and makes a fool of you. Use alcohol as a painkiller for the sick and dying who need it.

Passages in Zechariah, Revelation, Psalms and Proverbs are selected for today in The One Year Bible.