Decorating God's House

I had never heard of Bezalel until a few weeks ago.  He is the first artist named by God.  Exodus 31 begins his story.  Moses went up on Mount Sinai for forty days and forty nights to receive instructions from God.  He was given many instructions for the Israelites.  Aaron and his sons were named as priests over Israel.  And then God names Bezalel.  He is named, and Moses is told that Bezalel has been filled with the Spirit of God to do all sorts of crafts and artistry and design...even woodworking...to make beautiful adornments for the tabernacle and  for the priests who would go before the Lord.  He was called to decorate God's house.  The Tabernacle.  The place where God would dwell.  That is an unbelievable task, and it was very detailed too.  When God sets out to build something beautiful everything is with plan and purpose...it was the house of God and nothing could be out of place or forgotten.  Everything had to be just the way God wanted it.  That was a hefty job for Bezalel...lots of responsibility...When God speaks your name on a mountain, you listen and get to work.

Turn to Exodus 35:30, and you are privileged to see Bezalel begin to work.  He has an assistant, Oholiab, who is there to help him and many Israelites who have also been filled with the Spirit of God to make beautiful, detailed decorations for the House of the Lord.  Read all the way through Exodus 39, and you will witness the work that was done for God.

I try to put myself in his shoes, and wonder if he questioned God.  I wonder if he was annoyed that so much of his handiwork would sit in the Holy of Holys, a place seen only by the priest.  I wonder if he was frustrated by the radical obedience that was required by God in building the tabernacle...or if, Bezalel was smarter than me.  Maybe he did not question God, and simply allowed God's will to spill forth in his life no matter how painstakingly time consuming and radical.  I wonder if Bezalel got the enormity of his calling and so handed it fully over to God for God to work through him.  I wonder if his hands ached, or if he had sleepless nights or insecurities while he decorated the house of Jehovah.  I wonder...

I am not Bezalel.

I am Jackie Hooks, and sometimes I am drowning in the moment that God is requiring of me.  Sometimes the fear inside my life is so huge that I have to sit down and close doors and let life happen in slow motion.  It is in these moments, gripped by a knowledge that might swallow me whole that I reach out for Jesus.

I was abducted by a stranger at the age of 6.  I was terrified and thought that I would die.  My childhood was ripped from my life that day and replaced with a terror that has threatened to consume me.  My world turned to slow motion in the woods behind my apartments.  And as God saved my life, Satan began to fill my head with lies.  I would live inside the prison of these lies for the next 29 years.  Working feverishly all the time to seem "normal".  Decorating my life with reckless choices, false securities and shame.  I would live out of the baggage I carried from this one day for most of  my life...even as Jesus found me...I couldn't hand the deep darkness over to Him.  It was too much to handle, too much to hand Him...too big a task...too many details for God to unravel.  I was not an artist.  I was a mess.  I was 33 years old, not sleeping, terrified someone would steal my children when I found myself face down in my den.  Crying.  Begging Jesus to leave me alone...quit wanting to heal me...no one knew my secret.  I was so cleaned up on the outside that no one would ever have to know that sometimes I would grab my three children, through tear stained cheeks, and tell them that mommy didn't feel safe at the park or store or gas station or restaurant...and leave immediately.

And Jesus agreed.  No one would ever know...I had made such an amazing mask that no one could ever guess what lay beneath it.  Jesus said to my soul, "Jackie.  You are right.  You can spend the rest of your life being 'fine'...or you can be free.  And I came to set you free."

And in that moment on my face on the floor I knew something different.  I knew my Savior, my Jesus, had walked up a hill to hang on a cross to set me free.  I knew that my Jesus had over 2000 years ago been nailed to a tree on a hill and called my name.  Jackie.  He did not call me to be an artist, but He did call me to be free.  He did not call me to ornate craftsmanship or wood working, but He did call me to decorate with His glory the house where He dwells...He called me to the radical obedience of healing from the inside out.  He called me to shine His light in the darkest places of my life and say His name.  He called me to work with Him, to trust Him, to allow His attention to details to leave no corner dusty or dark.  No, He did not call me to be an artist, but He did call me to be  His child.  There is freedom in His family.

So, He is calling your name too.  On a hill.  On a tree.  He is asking you to see that He took all your pain in His nail pierced hands.  He is giving you hope that His calling to you will be beautiful, full of amazing details and His perfect will.  He is looking at you and seeing the you behind the shame and the fear and He is calling....and His voice sounds like freedom.  And His promise is forever.  And a six year old girl can finally rest inside God's arms holding her tightly in the tabernacle of my soul.