The Honeymoon - God's Presence In Us | Exodus 25
Have you ever been incredibly excited to meet someone you admire, only to walk away surprised by what they chose to talk about?
That was the experience our pastor had as a ten-year-old when he met Coretta Scott King. After listening to her speak about civil rights and justice, he had a chance to meet her privately. He had a whole list of questions prepared—questions about Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the state of the country, and what a young person could do to continue the dream.
Instead, Coretta Scott King asked him if he had a girlfriend.
It was memorable, but perhaps a little underwhelming.
Something similar happens in Exodus 25. Moses has been invited to meet with God on Mount Sinai. He waits six days, and on the seventh day, God finally speaks to him. You might imagine Moses had a few questions prepared for the Creator of the universe.
Instead, God starts talking about furniture.
For the next forty days, God gives Moses detailed instructions about a sanctuary—a place where God himself will dwell among his people.
At first glance, it can seem like an odd place for the story to go. But Exodus 25 is actually revealing something incredibly important about who God is and what he desires.
God Wants to Dwell With His People
God tells Moses:
“They are to make a sanctuary for me so that I may dwell among them.”
The word translated “sanctuary” carries the idea of a dwelling place—a space where someone lives.
That is the heart of what God is doing.
God doesn't simply want to rescue Israel from Egypt and then send them on their way. He doesn't want to be a God who occasionally visits his people and then disappears. He wants to dwell with them.
This is one of the great themes running through Scripture.
God walked with humanity in the garden. After sin disrupted that relationship, God continued pursuing his people. He appeared to Abraham. He wrestled with Jacob. He met Moses in the burning bush.
But now, in Exodus, God says something different:
I want to stay.
God wants to dwell with his people in the wilderness—even though they are still broken, sinful, and imperfect.
And that matters because the wilderness isn't where we would expect God to make his home.
We might expect God to dwell where everything is clean, ordered, and put together. Instead, God chooses to dwell in the middle of a wandering, struggling people.
That is good news for us.
God wants to dwell with you in your wilderness.
Not after you get everything together.
Not after you overcome every failure.
Not after you become the person you think you are supposed to be.
God wants to dwell with you now.
God's Design, Not Ours
God doesn't simply tell Israel to build something and let them figure out the details.
He says:
“You must make it according to all that I show you—the pattern of the tabernacle and the pattern of all its furnishings.”
God gives them the design.
That's important because we often want to do things for God on our terms.
We want to worship God according to our preferences. We want to serve God according to our plans. We want to build our lives according to our own designs and then ask God to bless what we've already decided to do.
But God says, in effect:
This isn't your design. It's mine.
The people of Israel are being taught obedience.
And obedience begins with hearing.
The Hebrew word Shema means “hear,” but it carries the idea of hearing in such a way that you respond. Biblical hearing isn't merely receiving information. It is listening with the intention of obeying.
That is why the great declaration of Israel begins:
“Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one.”
And then:
“Love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength.”
God isn't merely looking for compliance. He wants love that produces obedience.
The greatest way to obey God isn't simply because we're afraid of what will happen if we don't.
It's because we love him.
Where Your Treasure Is
God then asks Israel to bring an offering to help construct the sanctuary.
But notice the invitation:
“From everyone whose heart is willing.”
God isn't simply demanding that they give. He is inviting them to participate in what he is doing.
And what they bring is remarkable: gold, silver, bronze, fabrics, leather, wood, oil, spices, and precious stones.
Where did former slaves in the wilderness get all of those things?
They got them from the Egyptians.
Back in Exodus 3, God had promised that Israel would not leave Egypt empty-handed. The very things that came from Egypt would eventually be used to construct the dwelling place of God.
What the enemy intended for one purpose, God repurposed for his purposes.
What looked like plunder became material for worship.
And that points toward something even greater.
We Are the Sanctuary
The tabernacle was ultimately pointing beyond itself.
In the Old Testament, God made his dwelling place among his people in a sanctuary.
But in the New Testament, the story moves even closer.
God doesn't merely dwell among his people.
He dwells in his people.
Scripture describes God's people as his sanctuary, his temple, and a spiritual house.
The cross makes this possible. Through Jesus, God takes people who were once separated from him and makes them his dwelling place.
We become the sanctuary.
That means the question isn't merely:
“What kind of building are we creating for God?”
The deeper question is:
“What kind of dwelling place are we becoming for God?”
If we are God's sanctuary, then our lives aren't ours to design however we please.
God is the architect.
God gets to determine what belongs in the sanctuary.
God gets to determine what needs to be removed.
God gets to determine what needs to be rebuilt.
God gets to determine what needs to be prepared.
Lord, Prepare Me
This is why the old prayer becomes so meaningful:
“Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary, pure and holy, tried and true. With thanksgiving, I'll be a living sanctuary for you.”
That isn't simply a beautiful song.
It's a prayer of surrender.
“God, prepare me.”
Not “God, bless what I've already designed.”
Not “God, make my plans work.”
Not “God, fit yourself into the life I've constructed.”
Instead:
“God, prepare me according to your design.”
And sometimes the preparation will be uncomfortable.
Sometimes God will show us something that needs to change.
Sometimes he'll reveal something we've been holding onto.
Sometimes he'll ask us to surrender something we thought belonged to us.
But if we really are his sanctuary, then we should want the Architect to prepare the house.
Learning to Listen
There is one final challenge in this passage: listen.
We live in a world filled with noise. We are constantly talking, scrolling, watching, working, planning, and consuming.
Silence can feel uncomfortable because silence gives us an opportunity to hear what we've been avoiding.
But if obedience begins with hearing, then we need to learn how to be quiet enough to listen.
So perhaps the most important question isn't:
“God, what should I do?”
Perhaps it begins with:
“God, what do you want to prepare in me?”
That's a very different prayer.
It's not asking God to approve our design.
It's asking God to reveal his design.
And when we ask that question, we have to be willing to listen.
A Question for the Sanctuary
If you are God's dwelling place, what preparation does he need to make in you?
What needs to be cleared out?
What needs to be repaired?
What needs to be surrendered?
What needs to be rebuilt?
Where have you been trying to live according to your design instead of God's?
And what would happen if, instead of immediately asking God for an answer, you simply became quiet enough to hear him?
The God who met Israel in the wilderness still desires to dwell with his people.
And through Jesus, he doesn't simply dwell around us.
He makes us his dwelling place.
So our prayer can be simple:
Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary.
Pure and holy.
Tried and true.
With thanksgiving.
A living sanctuary for you.
