When We Leave the Temple Behind

"I will lift up my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth." Ps. 121:1-2 (WEB)

This psalm, though written before the Exile, was a favorite of the exiles. As they were taken from their homes, they would quite literally "lift up [their] eyes to the hills," i.e., to Jerusalem and the Temple. As the will of God was further accomplished, all that was familiar and known was removed. Only God was left. Sometimes, many times, that is the way that it should be.
I have observed that many (including myself) view faith as going further and further into a bright and open place, with everything becoming clearer and clearer. Now, however, I think that such a view is mistake. A much more accurate (i.e., biblical) view is to say that faith is travelling deeper and deeper into darkness, a "deep but dazzling darkness," as Vaughan put it. Rather than a bright and open place, it is more like descending into the cave of a great mountain, with the daylight fading behind us the deeper that we go in. Spiritually speaking, a heavy dimness falls thicker and thicker over everything expect for one, i.e., God as He has revealed Himself to us. This seems to be the lesson about faith taught in Job: the greater the faith, the thicker the perplexity. The deeper that we go, the closer that we get, the more and more all other lamps go out. God Himself is shrouded in clouds and darkness (Ps. 97:2). All that we have is the light that He sows for us (Ps. 97:11), burning coals dropped like bread crumbs, each one urging us to move forward. Those lights are His word, His revelation to us, and thus even though He oft times hidden, He is never far. When we leave the Temple behind (which I believe is the proper definition of faith), we take God with us, for He is with us.
What I have discovered in my own life is that the life of faith means having God "clear the field," so to speak: all things familiar and certain, any chance for us to categorize, plan, and be confident of tomorrow, is utterly removed. In an immediate sense, things become more unknowable and uncertain, until the only thing left that we know for sure is God. All other people and circumstances have become shadows. That is what the life of faith is: certainty about God, uncertainty about everything else. God has revealed to us that He is holy (Is. 6:3), and that He has called us to holiness (I Pet. 1:15-16), and that He will accomplish that goal (Phil. 1:6). What he has not revealed is exactly how that will unfold in our individual lives, and it is on that point that we grow frustrated. We grow weary with waiting, and fall into two deadly snares. One is where we begin to place confidence in ourselves: "Perhaps I must do something." Such a confidence is always cursed.
The other snare is where we believe that the darkness is a result of our own stupidity and failure: "If only I was a stronger Christian things would be clearer!" Clarity belongs to those who are afraid of the dark, i.e., children. Those who have been grown up by the Lord are old enough to descend into His darkness, into a deeper trust in Him, which means a deeper knowledge of and love for Him. Faith is not our meager service to God whereby we earn enough brownie points to play with the grown ups in the burning sunlight. Rather, faith is the process (the "journey") by which we are drawn closer and closer to our destination, i.e., God Himself. We are drawn closer when we trust Him, but trust means nothing if everything is clear and sunny. Trust means that a shadow has been placed over everything. Not just any shadow, however, but the shadow of the Almighty; for it is only in that shadow that we find the secret place of God (Ps. 91:1). Leave your "temple" behind, and do not grow weary with the waiting, but rather go deeper still into the dark with your Father, Lover, and Friend.

-Jon Vowell