The Word did not shout from a distance; He moved in close. He took on flesh and made His home among us, like a living tabernacle walking through our neighborhoods. This is the breathtaking mystery of Advent—God choosing nearness without abandoning His holiness. In Jesus, the invisible God becomes visible, not in a cloud or flame, but with a face and a name. Let this nearness draw you to worship and reshape your ordinary routines with holy wonder [34:54].
John 1:14 — The eternal Word became truly human and lived right among us; we saw the radiance that belongs to the Father’s unique Son—overflowing with faithful love and solid truth.
Reflection: What is one concrete way you can make room for Jesus to “pitch His tent” in your day—perhaps a place, time, or habit you will guard this week?
From the Exodus onward, God signaled His desire not just to rescue His people but to live in their midst. The tabernacle faced east to guide wanderers back home, and every tribe camped with His presence at the center. Yet His nearness was both comforting and weighty—approachable only through reverent pathways. In Jesus, the holy God draws near without curtains, yet He remains the God of glory who calls for our hearts. Let your life rearrange around Him, not as an add-on but as the center of everything [52:28].
Exodus 25:8–9 — Have them build a sanctuary so I can live right in the middle of them; make it according to the pattern I show you so my presence can dwell among you.
Reflection: If your life had a camp map, what currently sits at the center, and what small reorientation could put Christ there in a visible way today?
We are hardwired for glory, and when that longing gets twisted, we chase applause and become “glory thieves.” Jesus meets our hunger with abundance, not scarcity—He pours out grace after grace, faithful love upon faithful love. He embodies covenant love and unflinching truth, exposing our false glories while healing our hearts. From His fullness, there is more than enough for your emptiness and striving. Receive—don’t perform—because grace is how glory is rightly restored [13:34].
John 1:16–17 — From His overflowing fullness we have all been receiving gift after gift; Moses handed down the law, but through Jesus the Messiah came lavish grace and reality.
Reflection: Where do you most feel the pull to seek approval, and what specific practice could help you receive grace rather than chase applause in that moment?
The places that feel least “church-ready” are precisely where Jesus loves to dwell. He tabernacles with people who feel unworthy—amid conflict, fatigue, apathy, and the ache of disappointment. His presence does not wait for your best day; it meets you in the middle of your mess. Glory is no longer locked behind a curtain but moves toward you with mercy and truth. Open that very place to Him and expect grace to meet you there [11:59].
John 1:18 — No one has ever seen God; but the one and only Son, who is at the Father’s side, has brought God into plain view for us.
Reflection: In which current place of weakness or conflict will you invite Jesus to dwell with you, and what gentle act of repentance or repair could you attempt this week?
Like Israel watched the cloud and fire, disciples watch the living Christ to move, wait, and follow. His presence leads the church into service, hospitality, and mission, not by striving but by the Spirit’s power. Performance doesn’t keep Him near—His love does; His grace fuels faithful obedience. As you step into the week, let His glory—not urgency or fear—set the pace. He can do far more than you imagine when His presence is truly central [25:44].
Ephesians 3:20–21 — God is able to do far beyond all we ask or imagine, through His power at work within us; may His honor be seen in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout every generation, forever.
Reflection: As you enter the coming week, what is one deliberate step you will take to follow His lead—moving when He moves and waiting when He rests?
Advent draws us into the breathtaking claim that the eternal Word became flesh and “tabernacled” among us. John’s language isn’t accidental; it deliberately hyperlinks the Exodus story. The God whose presence once localized in a movable tent—cloud by day, fire by night—has stepped into our neighborhood in the person of Jesus. I walked us through the Old Testament backdrop: Sinai’s consuming glory, the tabernacle’s ordered zones, and the sober reality that nearness to holiness was both comfort and danger. That same vocabulary—dwelt, glory—reappears in John 1 to tell us that God’s portable sanctuary now has skin and bone. Jesus is the living, walking temple, full of grace and truth, revealing the Father’s heart without veil or distance.
This matters because every one of us is wired for glory. We chase awe in sunsets and stories, or we chase approval and applause. That wiring gets distorted: glory-seekers become glory-thieves. The solution isn’t to kill desire but to re-center it. “We have seen his glory” means the deepest human hunger is answered, not by created splendor or human praise, but by the Son who makes the Father known. From his fullness we receive grace upon grace—an inexhaustible provision that doesn’t just forgive us; it reorders us. The law was a real gift, but Jesus, the embodiment of grace and truth, is the superior gift—God’s presence not only near us but available to us, not only available but indwelling by faith.
So as we journey forward, the call is to keep the presence and glory of Jesus at the center. Not at the margins. Not when we feel worthy. Especially not only on the rare “good” days. He tabernacles in the ordinary and the fractured—conflict, fatigue, shame, apathy—and doesn’t run out of mercy there. The holy nearness that once required layers of cloth and careful steps now comes close in compassion and truth, reshaping our loves, healing our fractures, and redirecting our need for glory toward the One who can actually bear it. Receive him again—today—with empty hands. There is more grace, and then more.
And who gets to pitch His tent in the center of the camp? God Himself. And why? Well, we know there's deep, rich symbolism. God's presence spiritually and literally, physically, was in the center of all of life, all of the community. And so let's step into the sandals of this kind of ancient Israelite. Think about it. What better way to have a constant reminder that all of your daily and community activities were to have God at the center? And so when the nomadic people of God moved, God went with them, and when they would camp out, God would always be right in the center. [00:52:06] (48 seconds) #GodAtTheCenter
``See, what draws us closer to Christ, it's not our performance, but it's the love of Christ that compels us. Amen? It's the mercy, the radical mercy of Christ, not giving us what we deserve. That's what compels us to come to him. It's that hope-filled grace, church, that he gives us what we don't deserve. That is what compels us. And that is what we must learn to receive this Christmas season as we go forward, desiring to keep him at the center. Yes, we're going to fail. But yes, his grace is available today and tomorrow. [01:14:31] (41 seconds) #CompelledByGrace
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