Webster's first definition of "dwell" is "to remain for a time." Above is an old photo of the house I "remained" in with my parents and brother from my birth until around age 8. It was then a humble asbestos-shingled cottage built by my grandfather. It was a happy, spacious place to me, which I delighted in exploring both inside and out. As I described it once in a newspaper article, "...so tall and white in my memory, so small in reality." By today's standards and even in yesterday's reality... well, it's a different story. No matter-- my heart was at home there.
I've been blessed to spend a few nights here and there in some of the most luxurious hotels in the Northern Hemisphere. In contrast, I've endured 24-hours on a Soviet Union-era train crossing northwestern Russia, then slept on a rusty cot in a seal-hunters' "lodge" in the icy far north. I've lived in apartments, condos, log cabins, and brick ranchers from coast to coast, and camped in tents and cozy RVs. I suppose those might all be considered "dwellings," no matter how extended or temporary the stay.
There was one space I dwelt for three nights that has no comparison, really, and it was no man-made structure at all: on top of a sleeping bag beneath the stars alongside the rushing Colorado River deep in the Grand Canyon. Perhaps that is one reason I have felt such a connection to Andrew Cross (See previous post, "Desert Drifter," February 13, 2025 here: https://tippett1.blogspot.com/2025/02/desert-drifter.html). The ancient dwellings Desert Drifter Andrew discovered in his southwest explorations were usually no more than tumbled piles of rocks or indentations in canyon walls that could hardly be called "caves." As Andrew's sister stated so beautifully and simply last week on His CaringBridge site: "Andrew's spirit is free, surrounded by light & love. He went to be with the Lord ... March 4...." Though my heart aches for Andrew's family ever since reading that news, I couldn't help but breathe this prayer: "Thank You, Jesus, that we know Andrew is with you now, in his eternal dwelling place!" I thought, "He's seeing scenery even more spectacular that he showed us on his explorations. Every moment is more beautiful than the most glorious canyon sunrise or starlit night, and someday I'll meet him there and tell him what a blessing his life was to so many of us!"
I have recently been studying R.C. Sproul's John, An Expositional Commentary. If you want to grow closer to Jesus, there's no better place to start than the Gospel of John. It may be quite familiar to you, as it was to me, but this book is taking me deeper than ever into these words of the apostle who was arguably the closest one to the Messiah. Yet Sproul's language is simple, clear, and thus quite accessible for anyone: I highly recommend it. Yesterday's passage was John 14:1-3. This has long been a favorite chapter of mine, due to its comforting message; in fact, it is often read at funerals. Verse 2 is probably most familiar in the King James Version: "In my Father's house are many mansions..." (emphasis mine). Sproul illuminates, however: "...the Greek word literally means "dwellings," but even more precisely, the word calls attention to the idea of a suite." (John, an Expositional Commentary, (c)2009 R.C. Sproul, Ligonier Ministries).
No matter where you find yourself at any given moment, whether majestic mansion or simple suite, hospital room or comfortable home, or even atop a sleeping bag under the sky, you can trust that if you've opened the door of your heart to Jesus, God's only Son, He now dwells in you. You can also trust that you have a dwelling place waiting for you in Heaven that will be "exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think." (Ephesians 3:20 KJV)
Psalm 84 (ESV)
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