The Splendor of this House

Scripture Lessons: 2 Thessalonians 2: 1-5, 13-17 and Haggai 1: 15b – 2: 9 Sermon Title: The Splendor of this House Preached on November 10, 2019 This reading from the book of Haggai, a book we don’t often take the time to read, is about a Temple renovation. You probably know a lot more about renovations than I do. This is about all I know: renovations take imagination. They take vision. And if you get too deep into the reality of the situation you probably won’t ever start, much less finish, so you need people around to protect the dream of what could be. The easier thing than renovating a house is just buying a house that doesn’t need to be renovated. That’s an attractive option for a lot of people, but for many people that’s just not an option. It wasn’t an option for us when we went to buy our first house in Decatur, and so we bought a dump. I’m sure you know about Decatur. Decatur is now a very nice place to live. When Sara and I were looking for our first house many parts of Decatur were very nice, but houses in those parts were out of our price range. A house that was in our price range wasn’t in on of those nice parts and wasn’t in great shape. There was no washer or dryer. There was no dishwasher. There wasn’t even a place to hook such appliances up. There was a vent over the gas range that sucked up smoke from the frying pans, but that vent didn’t take the cooking fumes too far. In fact, I remember trying to figure out why there was grease on the adjoining bathroom wall. Then I removed the mirror and there was the back of the range hood. It just sucked up whatever came off the range and moved it to the bathroom. That wasn’t ideal. I guess if you like to come out of the shower smelling like you slept at the Waffle House, this was the bathroom for you, but for most it wasn’t ideal. Yet here’s the thing. We could afford it, and we were crazy enough to believe that we could make something of it. I had learned to tile floors in a class at Home Depot. Sara can do anything she puts her mind to. My Dad’s cousin was married to an electrician who offered to donate his labor. There were friends around who offered to help us. Plus, the potential was there. Across the street from the house was a creek and greenspace. There was a Chinese chestnut tree in the front yard. Love is all you really need anyway, so we buckled down and gave it a try. That was our first house. Maybe that was something like your first house. What about the Temple? The prophet Haggai gathered the people around what remained of the temple and asked, “Who is left among you that saw this house in its former glory? How does it look to you now?” I like this question. Most people there probably didn’t think there was much to see. The truth is that most likely there were only one or two there that day who could remember what the Temple looked like before the Israelites were taken into exile. Scholars who think about this kind of thing say that only a person in what you might call, “the fourth quarter of life” would have remembered seeing it. The First Temple had been destroyed by the Babylonians, and now they stand at the ruins, sixty years later, most in the crowd having only heard about the Temple’s splendor from their grandparents. Now, sixty years later, what did they see? The gold that decorated the place had been taken to adorn the throne rooms of kings in faraway places. The Ark, that held the remains of the 10 Commandments and what remained of the manna was missing. The walls, once painted, were rubble. The Priests, who officiated in the room they called the Holy of Holies had been killed. “Who can remember the former glory?” is one good question. Another is, “who can imagine that such glory will ever return?” The first night we spent in our house in Decatur, I remember how Sara cried. And I wanted to. What were we doing in that place? Would it ever be fit to live in? Would it ever be the kind of place where we’d want to raise a child? Yet, in our minds was an idea of what it could be, and together, relying on each other, and the expertise of friends and real professionals, it became our home. That’s what it takes of course: 1. Enough imagination to see beyond what’s there to what might be 2. The knowledge that you’re not in it alone. So, the prophet Haggai does assure the people of both those things: Take courage, says the Lord; for I am with you. My spirit abides among you; do not fear. For thus says the Lord of hosts: once again, in a little while, I will shake the havens and the earth and the sea and the dry land; and I will shake all the nations, so that the treasure of all nations shall come, and I will fill this house with splendor. You can’t renovate without a dream. Without a dream of what could be you won’t even start. Nor can you renovate if you’re all alone. I had lunch with an old hockey player last week. He was a defenseman. I asked him what his primary responsibility was as a defenseman on the hockey rink, for being born and raised in the south I don’t know anything about hockey other than that it sounds too cold to be much fun. He told me that his job was to protect the little guys who skate fast and score the goals. “They can’t play scared, those little guys. So, my job was to watch out for them.” Does our Father in Heaven not make the same promise? Has our Father in Heaven not done the same for us in this place? Has our Father in Heaven not restored the splendor of this house? Today is the day of the annual meeting. It’s one Sunday a year when we hear about numbers and budgets, reports from the church officers. It’s not typically something that I look forward to, but today it is. I’ve been so excited to look through the annual report that you’ll receive today, because it is the story of what God has done here during our renovation. It is an accounting of splendor restored, lives changed, and smiling faces. It is an accounting of the glory of God. Like the Ancient Israelites, many churches in this country have a memory. Some call it a Camelot memory of full rugs at the children’s sermon, a full choir loft, a full preschool, a full youth program, a full Sanctuary on a Sunday morning. I call you to take inventory of what God has done and is doing here. To take a good long look around this place and to rejoice, for our God has honored His promise to us. He has sustained us by His grace. He is restoring this house to its former glory, and giving us yet an idea, that “The latter splendor of this house shall be greater than the former.” So then, brothers and sisters, what will you do? How will you respond? What do you say? I say, “If God is for us, who could be against us.” And I will listen as He calls on me, as He calls on us all to continue the work to the glory of His name. Halleluiah! Amen.