For the most part, I am an outdoor girl. From early morning to after sunset, I like to be outdoors. Reading, gardening, swimming, eating, walking if it can be done, I want it to be done outside. My pipe dream is an outdoor kitchen!. However, when it is time to turn in, the hardwood floors under my feet in my bedroom are about as close as I can come to roughing it. Therefore, I am not a fan of camping.
I admire folks who commit to all the work and experience of erecting tents, building fires, climbing in sleeping bags, and waking up with the sticky film of dew all over everything, but it is not for me. So, I had to smile when I came to this portion of the passage of Psalm 91. Of course, I know this refers to all of God’s people, who were primarily tent dwellers when this was written. But I couldn’t help but think one of the reasons I don’t care for camping is the vulnerability I feel inside a tent. Should some creature desire to enjoy my less than cooperative fellowship, there is only a piece of cloth between us. And… the flap does not qualify as a legitimate door. Nor does the hook on the bottom of the zipper come anywhere near to what I would think a lock should look like. So when God promises safety inside the tent, I am both amazed and convicted of the faith of folks like Abraham and Jacob, who spent their life as tent dwellers.
By the way, in Abraham’s history, he was a wealthy man who lived in a stone house in the Ur of the Chaldees before God called him to follow after Him in faith. He spent the rest of his life as a permanent camper. Abraham caught on, and he learned what it took to camp with God in confidence. The scriptures record in Genesis 13 that Abraham pitched his tent in Canaan while Lot lived among the cities and pitched his tent near Sodom”.
For me to claim God’s promise of protection in Psalm 91, I have to understand the importance of where I put up my tent. Abraham erected his dwelling place facing God’s promise. He looked out over Canaan, which later would be promised to the Israelites in the Exodus as the land of milk and honey. Though Abraham would not live to see this, because he was a follower who lived by faith, he kept his focus on God’s leadership and presence and believed God could do what He said. He opened the flap of his tent every morning, facing the potential promise of all that God had for him.
On the other hand, Lot, Abe’s nephew, wanted to live facing the promise of the lure of city life and the pleasures and comforts it could afford. We know from scripture because of Lot’s unfaithfulness, not only did disaster not just come near his tent, it took up residence inside. Lots, wife rather than face God’s promise and move forward, she longingly looked back and, as a result, lost all mobility as she was turned to a salt pillar. So as I meditate on these verses in Psalms, I have to ask myself, where is my tent, and what direction am I facing? Despite that, I dwell in a house made of brick , wood, and mortar, is my spirit and will committed to tent-dwelling? For me, this means, am I willing to first remain in God’s will and be flexible, mobile, or have I decided I have found a permanent campsite and God can work out His purpose for me here? After all, God has already told me I am not a permanent resident of where I dwell in His word. ( Hebrews 11:13-16).
Second, I have to prayerfully reflect, what direction am I facing? Am I arising in the morning, expecting the promise of God and His wondrous ways to be made a reality daily? Am I following Abraham’s example and facing Canaan? Or am I more like Lot with perhaps one eye toward my destiny in Christ but secretly longing for all the pleasure that a self-gratifying life can temporarily offer? Maybe I am a little more like Lot’s wife and spend time looking back at my previous campsite so much I can’t embrace the new thing God is doing in me and wants to do through me. Because I have a lot of ideas about how camping with God might look. It sure doesn’t include “roughing it.” Which is my interpretation is, I want to dwell with the Most High God as long as it is comfortable. As long as God doesn’t ask me to meet Him in the wilderness of trial or struggle or ask me to go without the comforts of what my “wants” are telling me is necessary to be happy.
Then, there is the whole confidence factor mentioned by the Psalmist. He states if you make the Most High your dwelling and say, “The Lord is my refuge,” no harm will overtake you, and no disaster will come near your tent” This is where we live a life of proclamation. This is where we testify to the world that not only we are dwelling with God, but we are trusting Him. We share with the world that we know God can be counted on, that He is our protector and that He always comes through. I like what Mark Patterson says in his book “Draw The Circle.” He reminds us when we count on God, God is big enough to defend His own name. It isn’t our reputation on the line when we step out and proclaim that we are safely in the hands of a loving God. It’s God’s reputation that is at stake. So, once again, I ask myself, “What am I saying? What is my testimony?”. Or am I only interested in the protection promises and clauses of God’s word and prefer deep down not to partner with Him publicly, just in case my tent rips or gets knocked down? Sometimes I find myself more interested in saving face than saving grace. But God is committed to watching over me, and wherever I am, He is.
God, even though I dwell in a house, remind me I am on a camping expedition with you. This is not my permanent address. Give me a spirit like a tent. One that is flexible and will fold up, take down and move on with you when you call me. Thank you that you have given me a Canaan before me to rest my eyes on, full of promise. Help me keep my back to the Sodom place that beckons me to turn toward it and invites me to disaster. Remind me that camping in your vineyard with you is far more adventurous, fulfilling, purposeful, and safe than dwelling in a fortress where I have invested myself, that is made up of flimsy walls and rusty locks where robbers and thieves can break in. Thank you, Jesus, for always hanging out at my campsite with me.
Come back and see how the 5 o’clock worker is impacted when it is discovered that angels are watching over the vineyard.
5oclockworker.com 