Wednesday 4 January 2023

Cold, raw and overcast, on the beach at 0635 with Luke. We are making our way along one of the sandy paths to the front beach, when I am stopped by His voice, and all background sounds of the ocean disappear:

            I want you to build, child.

There is a rush of electricity that jolts itself out of my mouth: “How big, Lord? What tools am I going to need?” There is a small pause, a small silence deeper that the lack of ocean waves.

            I am your instruments. I am your tools.

“Am I supposed to build you a Temple, Lord? Or re-build a temple?” I have no idea where this question came from, the words coming out of my mouth unbidden. What made me think of a Temple? I don’t know what a Temple to the Lord would even look like, even where to begin.

There is another soft pause, and almost a low, deep chuckle.

            Not an earthly building, child, but a Temple of the Spirit.

There is a sudden overwhelming sense of majesty and scale, of something so large and so intimate at the same time. Something that has ‘walls’ but doesn’t.  Something else inside is making me sparkle, or fizz, and I want to return his humor: “Are you going to show me the plans, or do you just want me to start somewhere and wing it?” The answer is (of course!) unexpected:

            Remember that unbelief is non-reality, and time, as you know it, is not elastic.

The ocean sounds resume, and we continue on our walk. Help, me, loving Father, to remember and process all that I have heard. Fit these hands to your tools, Lord.