Relocating To Elfland

A few posts ago, I mentioned the “atmosphere” created in a home or individual life by a “eucharistic” way of living. I have so much more I want to say about this, it’s hard to know where to begin, but I’ll start with these ruminations from Psalm 63:

David is in the wilderness of Judah, in one of his periods of exile, running from either Saul or Absalom. Here in this dry, exhausted land without water (v. 1), he seeks with longing for his God. His search does not disappoint: he discovers afresh the lovingkindness (hesed) of Yahweh that is better than life, and the “atmosphere” of his life changes from dryness and exhaustion to singing (v. 3), uplifted hands (v. 4), and satisfaction as in the fatness of a joyful feast (v. 5).

But what is the point of encounter? Does David enter a cave and have a prayer-closet epiphany of some kind? Does he see a vision (a burning bush, perhaps)? Does he experience a moment of ecstasy while reading his private copy of the Torah? What we are told is that he remembers the worship in which he participated when he visited the “holy place,” the dwelling-place of Yahweh. What he longs to see in the wilderness he has seen in the sanctuary (v. 2): there he beheld God’s power and glory, the majestic loveliness of Yahweh’s strength on behalf of His people.

So what went on at the sanctuary? The simple answer is liturgy, the lively rituals of worship. Worship didn’t center on didactic communication of ideas (though there may have been some pretty exciting retellings of history); nor did it center on images (visual aids intended to evoke sentiment and serenity). One didn’t go to the sanctuary to learn new information, or to sit and watch a spectacle. One went to participate in liturgical rituals: to present offerings and see them consumed in the fire of God, to fulfill vows and contribute tithes, to eat a meal with God and His people, to pray and sing and rejoice (Deut 12:5–7). And in all these things, the unseen God made known from behind the veil His superabounding power and grace toward His chosen ones.

The worshipper carried away with him from the sanctuary this abundance of God, and feasted on it from afar with mingled longing and satisfaction. This, it seems to me, is the “atmosphere” of Psalm 63: David yearns to be in the sanctuary again, even as the power and glory he beheld there transform his wilderness into a banquet house.

How much more ought this to be the case for participants in New Covenant worship! Our ears should echo every morning with our Lord’s salutation, His faithful “grace to you and peace.” We should live out our days in the confidence that He means these words. We should sing daily the praises we have sung, and pray again our petitions for mercy and help. We should remember His pronouncement of pardon, His receiving our offerings, His Word from His heavenly throne to us and all the host assembled before Him, His feasting with us in grace, and His commission to go out into the world under His benediction of peace. We should reenact the rituals of the sanctuary at our family tables and altars, and bless one another in His name. This is “eucharistic” living, it is liturgical living, it is living that can turn the world upside down. It is public enactment in the world of our confession, “Jesus is Lord.”