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Summary
There is a wonderful scene in one particular episode of “The Chosen.” Jesus and his disciples sit in a temporary shelter at the Feast of Booths in, or just outside of, Jerusalem. John’s big brother, James, asks Jesus about an amazing prophecy in Zechariah, saying, “In the prophet Zechariah it is written, ‘…and everyone who has survived of all the nations that have attacked Jerusalem shall go up year after year to worship the king, the Lord of Hosts, and celebrate the feast of tabernacles.’ One day our enemies will celebrate this feast with us? What would have to happen for that to be possible?”
Jesus answers, “Something will have to change.”
The disciples once asked Jesus, “Who then can be saved?”
“With man it is impossible,” answers Jesus. “But with God all things are possible.”
John 7:2, “Now the Jew’s Feast of Booths (skenopegia) was at hand.”
Through Moses, God commanded Israel to observe three pilgrim feasts in which all Israel would journey to Jerusalem to feast and worship. The first was Passover; the second was Pentecost; and the third was the Feast of “skenopegia,” meaning “booth making, tabernacle constructing, or tent pitching.” It was the great feast which summed up all of the others. And like Passover and Pentecost, it was an agricultural feast, celebrating the ingather of all the fruit of the field, the trampling of grapes that become wine, and the pressing of olives that yield the oil with which we become the body of the Anointed.
At the end of the feast, there was a “great day”— an 8th day representing a perpetual 7th day, the Sabbath Rest of God.
For seven days, the people of Israel were commanded to dwell in booths, until on the 8th day when they were to joyfully dismantle their own individual booths, or tabernacles, and form a holy assembly — a living tabernacle — in the city of Jerusalem as they sang “Oh give thanks to the Lord for he is good, for his Steadfast Love endures forever.”
Zechariah prophecies “a day” to come when a fountain will be opened to cleanse his people of their sin. “They will look on me,” says the Lord, “on him whom they have pierced.” It’s a fountain of tears that turns into a river of life. Time will be different in “that day.” The Lord’s name “will be one.” The flesh will fall off of the bones of those who battle Jerusalem, and those who survive will go up and keep the feast of booths.
John thinks that it has already happened, is happening, and will happen. “These things [the crucifixion] took place that the Scripture might be fulfilled: …they will look on him whom they have pierced.” (John 19:36)
The Revelation starts by quoting Zechariah, “…all eyes will see him, even those who pierced him.” In chapter 19, the Word cuts the flesh from all people. In chapter 20, the voice on the throne says, “Behold, I make all things new.” Eventually all people enter the city and keep the Feast of Tabernacles as one living tabernacle, the New Jerusalem, the Bride and Body of our Lord. Passover is becoming Pentecost and will become Tabernacles, as all worship the Lamb on the Throne.
In 1 Corinthians 15:20-28, Paul summarizes all of this and ends with this line, “…that God may be all in all.” And this is what it means: One eternal day, you will be best friends with Donald Trump and Joe Biden and your worst enemy. You may think: “Impossible!” And yes, it is for you. But nothing is impossible for God. And yet, like Jesus said, sitting in the booth in the TV show “The Chosen,” “Something will have to change.”
I’m saying: You will want what you do not want. I should you not.
Years ago, my wife, Susan, and I realized that we both routinely went to the same restaurant with our families as children. Imagine if Moses suddenly materialized at “The Denver Drumstick,” glared at me as I sat in a booth with my family, pointed toward Susan in a booth with her family, and said: “You must leave and cleave to the girl in yonder booth, give her every paycheck you will ever make, basically do whatever she asks, and routinely undress and do things you currently do not, and may never not, understand. You will do this or die. In other words, ‘You should.” If that had happened, I don’t think I’d be happily married today but chained to a bed in a mental health facility.
But now imagine if Moses said, “You will… for you will want to. In that day, what you do not want now will be what you do want more than anything in all the world.” Well, that would be different. The command “Be fruitful and multiply,” would no longer be a threat but a promise — a promise that might sit in a seven-year-old soul like a Seed.
Jesus did not say (actually, neither did Moses), “You should love the Lord with all you’ve got and your neighbor as yourself.” He said, “You will.”
In John 7:17, teaching in the temple and during the feast, Jesus says, “If anyone’s will (wish or desire) is to do my father’s will (wish or desire), he will know whether the teaching is from God or whether I’m speaking on my own.”
It sounds as if we can’t truly know God’s will by taking more knowledge of his will (knowledge of Good and evil); we can only know his will if we are doing his will, or maybe I should say, his will is doing us. Isn’t God’s Will, in flesh, named “Jesus”?
John 17:19, “Has not Moses given you the law? Yet none of you keeps the law. Why are you trying to kill me?” asks Jesus.
The Law is Love. If you have to make yourself love, you obviously don’t actually love “Love.” And so, you cannot love in freedom. And love that’s not free isn’t Love but bondage. It’s like Moses threatening me at The Denver Drumstick.
John 17:22, “Because of this (that you’re trying to kill me), Moses gave you circumcision.”
In Deuteronomy, Moses tells the Israelites that the Word is in their heart, and yet they have not done the Word, for their heart has not yet been circumcised. They will be circumcised when they have returned from exile. They will keep the Feast of Booths. God will cut away the flesh and open the fountain.
John 7:37, “On the last day of the feast, the great day [the eternal 7th day — the 8th day], Jesus stood up and cried out, ‘If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes [trusts] in me, as the Scripture has said, “Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.”’”
How do you want what you don’t want but should want? You can’t just decide to want what you don’t want, for with what would you want it? You can’t “should yourself” into being Good, for it only reveals that you’re not good, don’t want the good, but only use the good because your will is bad. Instead, you pretend to be good to feed the bad, which is the worst; it’s monstrous.
In 1977, I was a monster — I was a normal, heterosexual, teenage boy. Since the age of seven, my attitude toward girls had changed. It wasn’t that I didn’t like them, but that I liked them for lunch. “I saw that they were good for food, a delight to the eyes, and to be desired to make one feel good about oneself.”
I had had a few. Each one was so pretty and alive, until I had them… and then they no longer seemed so pretty and alive to me. I didn’t “have them” sexually but psychologically. They were so attractive to me until they fell for me, and then they were no longer attractive; they no longer fed my ego. I remember wondering if I’d always be alone.
In January, I started dating Susan. I thought “She’s the prettiest girl at Heritage High.” By spring, she had fallen for me, and by summer I was thinking, “She’s not pretty enough…” Not only was I monstrous, I was certifiably insane.
I broke up with her one evening, went home, stared at the ceiling, and thought “She’s the prettiest girl at Heritage High… and maybe in the whole world.” So, in the morning, I drove back to her house to “make up.” But you understand: I was still a monster. “She isn’t home,” her mom said. “She went to the park.” And so, I went to the park.
I saw her, but she didn’t see me; I just watched her. She was standing by a tree in a garden, tossing broken pieces of bread to some ducks . . . and weeping. I suddenly realized that I had broken her heart. She had made herself vulnerable to me; she loved me. Then suddenly, something broke within me; it was like a fountain in me. I no longer wanted to take anything from her; I only wanted to give everything to her. I wanted to bleed for her, as if that would be food for me.
It was the monster trap and the maker of man. And not just once. The Grace of God in my wife has been trapping the monster and making the man for 47 years now. I’ve lived in one “booth” with her for 42 years, given her every paycheck, and surrendered every fig leaf that I am aware of… because I want to. I want what I did not want. I mean, sometimes I actually want to bleed for her as if she were my very own flesh, my body.
If you’re thinking, “I wish that was my story,” I’m telling you, “This is precisely your story, far more than you can even begin to know.”
Look at the tree! That’s the heart of God on the tree. We broke it. Because he gave it. That’s your Helper, your Husband, and if you’re married to Him, you’re married to me and all humanity. No one goes to Heaven who doesn’t want to go to Heaven. And that’s the rub. How do you want what you do not want but should want; how do you want the Kingdom of God?
Hang out by the tree and drink from this fountain: “His body broken for you… and this cup.” This cup turns dry wells into fountains and all things into the Kingdom of God.