This morning I’m chewing on where God is dwelling.

Every Sunday, our corporate worship begins with a call to examine ourselves.  And it’s always the same inventory we’re encouraged to consider.  Are we weary and need rest?  Are we mourning the loss of someone, or something, and need comfort?  Has it been one of those weeks that has us walking into church on Sunday morning feeling worthless, wondering if even God cares?  Perhaps we have known failure because of weakness and need strength?  Or maybe, we have been so reminded over the past week that we are sinners who are in need of a Savior.  Then, we’re reminded, “Jesus welcomes you!”

True?  Yeah, I’m thinkin’ . . . and it’s not just a New Testament gospel thing.  My reading this morning reminds me it’s an Old Testament good news thing, as well.  It has always been where God chooses to dwell.

For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: “I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite.” 

(Isaiah 57:15 ESV)

I dwell . . . says the Almighty. I settle down declares the One who is high and lifted up.  I reside, I abide, I lodge. There are places where My presence is present.  Chew on that for a bit.  Though He is infinite and eternal, this is not some distant God who is unable, nor unwilling to inhabit time and space.  Not a God who has determined to be alone, but one who wants to be known.

So, where does He hang?  Where we might expect: in the high and holy place.  And — oh, what a glorious and! — where maybe it’s a little less intuitive to us; and also with him, and her, who is of a contrite and lowly spirit.  Literally, with those who know they are just dust and know what it is to be brought low, humiliated, and humbled.  With those, as we remind ourselves each Sunday, who are weary, mourning, feeling worthless, weak, and aware of their transgressions.  With such is where God chooses to dwell!

It’s when we think of ourselves “more highly than we ought” (Rom. 12:3) that we run the risk of not knowing the presence of God.  When I give into the temptation to think that I’m rich, prospering, and in need of nothing, it’s then that I tend to be oblivious to the knocking.  Oh, but when I’m reminded that I am “wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked”, then I am so ready to open the door when He knocks. Anxious to invite Him in. Hungering and thirsting to commune with Him (Rev. 3:17-20).  And it’s then, when I’m weak and weary, lowly and on the verge of losing it, that He purposes to settle down and dwell with me.

How come?  Well, as we also remind ourselves every Sunday, the Jesus who dwells with those who are of a contrite and lowly spirit is the ally of those who were once His enemies, the defender of the guilty, the justifier of those who have run out of excuses, and the friend of sinners. So, it’s with such where He chooses to dwell.

All because of His abundant, over-flowing grace.  All for His everlasting, all-deserving glory.