"What are you, O mighty mountain? Before Zerubbabel you will become level ground. Then he will bring out the capstone . . .."
Zechariah 4:7
We want to start something; we want to plant and we want to build. Man has been doing this for millenia and he has built one of two cities: Babylon or Jerusalem, both with different foundations. One city of the 'I will' and the other of 'Your will'. But before a single stone can be dragged onsite, before a single stone can be laid as a foundation, before any of that starts, there is a mighty work to be done and it is not to build up into the air as in Babel - it has always been to dig down, down into the dirt to get to the rock.
And who is it that digs? It is not us who performs the work; it is the High Priest. And who is the High Priest if He is not Christ himself? And upon what or whom does He perform His destructive work? It is upon us. We are the object of His levelling. Up to this point we have got it completely wrong. We thought we were doing a work for God, but - in fact - it has been Him who needs to turn us into the workmanship of God. Like David, we have offered to build a house for His Name when in fact the Lord has turned round to refuse the offer. Instead, He will be the One to build a House for David to rule over for ever. We can always offer but God will always trump us; He always has something better in mind. We look to build something temporal when God looks to build something eternal.
That proud, rugged and wild mountain must be brought low and circumcised before God can begin to build. Where once people would say, 'Look at that fine, beautiful mountain,' they now say, 'Look at the temple mount, the house of God!' They no longer see the mountain, it has disappeared. Its pride has been brought low. Where once nothing could touch it save for groves of olives and wild animals, it is now brutalised under a building site, marred and scarred beyond recognition. Its lofty heights laid low, all that it took pride in is now despoiled. It is a woman bereft of her hair, a soldier shorn of his weapons. The mountain lies naked and exposed. The guts of the mountain have spilled over to reveal what is inside. And when people pass by to look at the work in progress they will be appalled - disfigured beyond that of any mount. They will not recognise the likeness of the mountain ever again. They will remember the former mountain and shake their heads. But the haughty mountian must go through this if it is to be beautiful once more for wholly different reasons. Before, it was beautiful for its own sake, now it is beautiful because of what it bares - a place for God to dwell.
Remember this when the stone masons get to work on your stone heart, when the chisels and the pick axes fall, when God digs deeper and flattens you out. You thought you were a mountain; now you are a footstool.
It will stop. The rasp of metal on stone will cease and all will feel like paradise. And when they bring out the capstone what a shout will rise up from the mountain. What delight will be yours when the perfect stone is laid on a perfectly level surface. Before anything is built the mountain has as its heart one joint, one union upon which everything is built, from which everything is measured. What delight will be yours when God comes to rest in your centre, upon you, without a gap between you . . . complete contact.
You thought you were a mountain, now you are the resting place of God.
Zechariah 4:7
We want to start something; we want to plant and we want to build. Man has been doing this for millenia and he has built one of two cities: Babylon or Jerusalem, both with different foundations. One city of the 'I will' and the other of 'Your will'. But before a single stone can be dragged onsite, before a single stone can be laid as a foundation, before any of that starts, there is a mighty work to be done and it is not to build up into the air as in Babel - it has always been to dig down, down into the dirt to get to the rock.
And who is it that digs? It is not us who performs the work; it is the High Priest. And who is the High Priest if He is not Christ himself? And upon what or whom does He perform His destructive work? It is upon us. We are the object of His levelling. Up to this point we have got it completely wrong. We thought we were doing a work for God, but - in fact - it has been Him who needs to turn us into the workmanship of God. Like David, we have offered to build a house for His Name when in fact the Lord has turned round to refuse the offer. Instead, He will be the One to build a House for David to rule over for ever. We can always offer but God will always trump us; He always has something better in mind. We look to build something temporal when God looks to build something eternal.
That proud, rugged and wild mountain must be brought low and circumcised before God can begin to build. Where once people would say, 'Look at that fine, beautiful mountain,' they now say, 'Look at the temple mount, the house of God!' They no longer see the mountain, it has disappeared. Its pride has been brought low. Where once nothing could touch it save for groves of olives and wild animals, it is now brutalised under a building site, marred and scarred beyond recognition. Its lofty heights laid low, all that it took pride in is now despoiled. It is a woman bereft of her hair, a soldier shorn of his weapons. The mountain lies naked and exposed. The guts of the mountain have spilled over to reveal what is inside. And when people pass by to look at the work in progress they will be appalled - disfigured beyond that of any mount. They will not recognise the likeness of the mountain ever again. They will remember the former mountain and shake their heads. But the haughty mountian must go through this if it is to be beautiful once more for wholly different reasons. Before, it was beautiful for its own sake, now it is beautiful because of what it bares - a place for God to dwell.
Remember this when the stone masons get to work on your stone heart, when the chisels and the pick axes fall, when God digs deeper and flattens you out. You thought you were a mountain; now you are a footstool.
It will stop. The rasp of metal on stone will cease and all will feel like paradise. And when they bring out the capstone what a shout will rise up from the mountain. What delight will be yours when the perfect stone is laid on a perfectly level surface. Before anything is built the mountain has as its heart one joint, one union upon which everything is built, from which everything is measured. What delight will be yours when God comes to rest in your centre, upon you, without a gap between you . . . complete contact.
You thought you were a mountain, now you are the resting place of God.
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