Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

It must have been a terrifyingly amazing moment to be hawking doves in the temple complex when Jesus decided He’d had enough. Enough of people not taking the temple seriously. Enough of folks being about their own business instead of the business of the Father. Enough of individuals willing to risk their eternity on a paltry sale, a quick dime, a change of coins. (John 2:13-16)

I wonder how long it took between Him seeing the mess they had made of His temple, His house of prayer, and the braiding of that whip of cords. A few minutes? An hour? Or just a moment? It doesn’t matter. Jesus stalks into the temple, outrage turning His face to stone. He wields the whip with authority. Mayhem ensued. Oxen immediately begin clumsily lumbering toward the exit. The sudden tension filling the yard sends a sense of urgency rippling over the animals. They react. Their eyes roll wildly. They pick up speed, fighting one another to get through the gate. Terrified shoppers leap out of the beasts’ way. Horrified parents grab their children from under pounding hooves. Cattle owners, breaking free of their frozen astonishment, race to rescue their frantic livestock. Jesus isn’t done.

As He passes the money changers’ table, His free hand upends their coin holders. The clink and tinkle of falling, scattering, rolling coins mingles with the bleating of sheep busily making good their escape. A flip of his wrist overturns a table. A random chair goes skittering across the floor. In a voice rife with authority and censure, He braces His feet, squares up His shoulders, and bellows, “Leave! Stop using My Father’s house for a two-bit flea market or yard sale! This is a house of prayer, a place to meet with the Father, you are making it a den for thieves to conduct their nefarious business practices!” (John 2:13-16; Matthew 21;12-13; Mark 11:15-19; 19:45-48) 

If He said this to the people of that day, I wonder what He’d say to us now. Not about our church buildings. I’m certain God takes no offense to our buildings of wood and stone or the beautiful windows of stained glass. I doubt He’d be offended by our carpet color or choice of seating. We are not in the habit of holding yard sales or cattle auctions in our pristine sanctuaries. It is likely not the music, our coffee cups, or slouchy state of dress to which He takes offense. No, God is not offended by the manmade temple we visit once a week. If there is an offense, it stems from the way we are treating the temple of God within us. Our hearts, our minds, our souls. The way we live our lives.

You see, we have settled in. We attend church on Sunday, read our Bibles when we remember, say a prayer when circumstances are desperate, but we are not the devoted people of God we should be. We are not so focused on being holy as God has called us to be, as we are on being esteemed by those around us. We’ve become enamored by the world to the detriment of our souls. We have made excuses to stray. Our doctrines have suffered. We have used our technical acumen to cut and paste the Bible, taking out what we dislike and reinterpreting it to something more palatable. We have made sacrifices that have nothing to do with holiness, cleansing or salvation, but have brought starvation and death to our souls. Our church buildings might be immaculate, but our temples are in appalling disrepair.  

The Old Testament people of Judah were in a similar situation. They had wandered so far from God. Completely abandoned Him. Rejected His statutes, His will, His commands. So engrossed in their sinful practices, they left the temple of God to fall into disrepair. They didn’t offer sacrifices or burn incense as they had been instructed. They had blown out the lamps, closed the doors, and danced off down the path of selfish unfaithfulness. They, too, needed a wake-up call. 

They got one in the form of a new king. A 25-year-old named Hezekiah. He was heartbroken by the mess his people were in. Their fathers were killed in battle. The remnant held in captivity. The only way to rectify their current circumstances was to assuage the much-deserved anger of God by returning to Him in repentance and reconsecration. The temple needed repair and reconsecration. The people did too. So desperately, in fact, the need evoked this cry from Hezekiah, “Return to God. Don’t be unfaithful and obstinate like your ancestors and those around you. Choose God alone. Follow Him. If you return to God, His grace and mercy will compel Him to return to you.” Thankfully, they listened and found it true. (II Chronicles 29-30) 

Thousands of years later, nothing has changed. Not the predicament of the people. Not the requirement for rectification. Not the necessity of hearing the same message. The temple of God is in miserable disrepair. Not the Sunday gathering building, the 7-days-a-week temple that lives in you. The temple so ridiculously riddled with besetting sins, unmitigated cowardice, and unreserved unfaithfulness. The temple that loudly claims Heaven with its mouth, but earth with its actions. You are that temple. So am I. (I Corinthians 3:16)

Admit it. On the inside, many of us are a mess. Decades ago we prayed a sinner’s prayer and decided we were good to go. It went great for a while. Our dedication to God never waivered. Our conscience was always followed. Our Bible reading and prayer never suffered because something earthly seemed more important. Over the years, we’ve rather let things slip. We haven’t kept our eyes on Jesus. We haven’t listened solely to His voice. We haven’t held our convictions when pressure from outside has become overwhelming. We have let up a little here, a lot there. We’ve changed our ideas of sin. Altered our adaptation of God’s requirements. We have followed our untrustworthy hearts that so desperately want to match the world, fit in, blend. We have found so many things we love more than we love God. Tangible things. Socially acceptable things. Things that draw us aside and cause us to pay more attention to our own earthly business than our Father’s business. Yes, our temples are egregiously in need of cleansing. (Isaiah 53;6; Revelation 2:4; Revelation 3:15-17; James 1:14-15)  

It will not be easy or painless. The uncomfortable scene from II Chronicles 29 comes back to mind. After the priests and Levites have spent days cleansing and reconsecrating themselves and the Lord’s temple, Hezekiah and the city officials roll up out front toting sacrifices. Twenty-eight sacrifices, to be exact. 

The bleating of goats and sheep broke the early morning silence, underscored by the annoyed lowing of oxen. They resent the rousting from their fields and stables. They have no idea what’s ahead. No inkling they are being led to slaughter. No knowledge that by the end of the day their blood will splatter the altar and run in rivulets across the ground. No clue they will be the beginning of the cleansing of God’s people. 

But the people knew. They knew how far they had strayed from God. They knew the totality of their sin. They knew retribution was coming if rectification didn’t. As they watched the atrocious sight of innocent animals being slaughtered, listened to the final cries of dying lambs, smelled the metallic odor of blood filling the air, saw the priests splatter blood across the altar, they knew a choice was being made. A choice to put away the idols. A choice to turn from sin. A choice to stop chasing the world and run after God instead. It wasn’t beautiful. It wasn’t painless. It wasn’t easy. It was necessary. They had to go back to the old ways if they wanted to be in proper relationship with God. And they did. (II Chronicles 29-30) 

It is no different with us. We have developed loves we shouldn’t have, deep desires for things of the world, absolute affections for selfish pleasures. We have developed a profound affinity for all the things the world promises. We are addicted to chasing them down. We are convinced we still have Jesus because we attend the church building on Sunday, all the while failing to acknowledge the fact we have abandoned Him for things of much less worth. But it is time to let those things go. Time to return to the old paths. Time to find peace and joy in wholly following Jesus. Time to throw out the temporal and embrace the eternal even if it is hard, even if it is a sad parting, even if you have to leave some things behind. You’ll have to do it if you want to be in proper relationship with God. (Jeremiah 6:16; I John 2:15-17; John 14:27; Luke 9:23; Colossians 3:1-25) 

As you settle in your church pew this Sunday, I hope you do some soul searching. How clean is your temple? How deep is your need for cleansing? How far have you slipped off the old paths? How much change and turning and reconsecration do you need? Because you are called to be the temple of God. You are the light of God in a world gone frighteningly dark. You are the salty savor of God in a decidedly tasteless society. You have been instructed to be holy, just like He is holy. So I’m asking, how’s that going for you? Are you as dedicated as you were at first or does your temple need a cleansing? Have you grown lukewarm? Have you put your hand to the plow and looked back? Which have you decided is more profitable–gaining the world or saving your soul? (I Peter 1:15-17; Matthew 5:13-16; Luke 10:3; I Peter 2:5; Romans 12:1; Mark 8:36; Luke 9:62)