The House of God

He was afraid and said,
"How awesome is this place!
This is none other than the house of God;
this is the gate of heaven.”
Genesis 28:17

The facilitator raised an interesting question: “If the Church was a house which room would you find yourself in?”

The question was raised to get us thinking: as answers began to be bantered about I began to project responses for reflecting various types of denominational and non-denominational churches. Certainly not fair but done without malice and as a product of my wandering imagination, which today would be labeled attention-deficit.

Images of grand ballrooms with crystal chandeliers set out for a formal eight course banquet, ornate living-rooms complete with plastic slip covers lest anyone soil the furniture I chuckled audibly remembering both stiff Christians and the homes of my aunts. I let you, dear reader, choose the denomination.

Feigning a cough, my thoughts raced on to other rooms designated for relational encounters, such as living rooms, kitchen nooks and game rooms. Of course, there was the study with book shelves as high as the eye could see with large leather chairs and small reading lamps. Rooms ranged from comfortable and inviting to museum showcases complete with red velvet ropes keeping one at a distance.

I recalled wistfully, homes where everyone entered through the back door and one immediately felt at ease; of kitchens, where within minutes you knew you could raid the refrigerator as if a member of the family…

But where was I ….the facilitator’s efforts woke me from my daydreams, called my meandering back for a moment…where indeed? I found myself on the porch. Oh, and what a lovely porch it was – wide with rockers and rattan chairs, hanging ferns and flowering plants. The porch wrapped around the house, perhaps encircling the entire building. I was standing on the side which was opposite the rock wall that had been erected separating the house from the street many years earlier with its narrow entryway. From this side of the porch I could see a beautiful yard, green grass and large shade trees of every variety. The landscaping seemed endless. I saw former house members playing in the yard; they seemed to be so joyous, free, enjoying the sunshine. There were a few I did not recognize. I wondered if the yard was still part of the house.

Daydreaming, I wondered, “Why was I on the porch?” I was brought back into the discussion again. Why indeed? Two thoughts quickly came to mind: first, I needed to get some fresh air. I found it too stuffy and full of hot air inside. Fortunately, I held my tongue; my comment would not be appreciated.

And then sadly, I remembered, I was on the porch because I no longer felt welcomed in the room I once occupied, inside. I had become invisible, a wallflower, where I once had been included. But the porch was still part of the house, wasn’t it?

I easily slipped back into my reverie. Who said high school had been wasted? Why, on the porch, I can see the neighbors and wave to passersby. Maybe even invite some over to sit and talk. I see several groups on the lawn in conversation, laughing. The feel of the breeze is healing and refreshing. I think I’ll stay on the porch for awhile, put my feet up, and enjoy the fresh air.

I’ll probably go back in sometime, but for now the porch is just fine.

But I am like an olive tree
flourishing in the house of God;
I trust in God's unfailing love
for ever and ever.
Psalm 52:8