You shall make an ark of acacia wood,
covered with gold.
If I were an Israelite, just out of Egypt,
wandering who knows where,
following a fiery, cloudy pillar
and a crazed old man,
what would this command signify?
I and those with me,
no home and no possessions
beyond what we carry with us,
make such a thing,
another thing to carry,
for the fiery, thunderous Voice
that makes us tremble?
Why?
How?
You shall make an ark of acacia wood,
covered with gold.
When I was a child I was told
one day I could be in a place
with streets made of gold,
gates of pearl,
miraculous trees
watered by a living river.
God lived there,
and one day, so might I.
It still captures my imagination.
You shall make an ark of acacia wood
covered with gold.
I never think about building heaven,
actually piecing it together
with my own hands.
It’s something provided,
provisioned by God himself.
It’s beyond me
my talent
my resources
my scope.
Only God builds heaven.
You shall make an ark of acacia wood,
covered with gold.
If I were an Israelite, just out of Egypt:
The wood, right here in the wilderness;
the gold, we carried as gifts out of Egypt;
the ark, something we never imagined,
but shown to us;
the skill, right here among us.
You shall make an ark of acacia wood,
covered with gold.
You shall make it.
See, everything is provided.
You shall make it;
and when you do,
I will dwell just above it,
hovering over your creation.
Grace and peace to you…
dw
