God makes promises – that’s what God is famous for…not counting the creation of all that is, was, and ever shall be. God promised Noah ‘No more floods to wipe out all life’ (we’ll talk about that some day). God promised Abram ‘I’ll make you father of multitude of nations’ (we’ll talk about that one too) And here, God (through the prophet Nathan) lays some serious future talk on David, the king.

David has enjoyed a great ride (mostly) since being discovered in the sheepfold. He killed Goliath. He soothed Saul’s shattered nerves. He stood defiant against Saul as Israel’s first king slipped off into madness. And now, David reaps his reward.

The worst of the fighting is done. He is home and dry in his new capital city. He is finally done with the nomadic, warrior life. And all because he found favour with God. God’s promises count, after all. When God is with you, who can stand against you…right?

So finally David settles in, only to realize that the God who has shown him such favour is still living rough (as it were.) David wants to show God a little love – to arrange a fixed dwelling for the Lord God of Hosts. ‘I’ve got this great house of cedar; shouldn’t God have a great house to?’

Nathan (who should know better) says ‘go for it – God is with you.’ [obviously]

But an evening visitation to the prophet gives God a chance to make a case. And God doesn’t need (or want) David’s ‘gratitude’ – that’s what David wants. David seeks a little quid-pro-quo. You helped me God, so now I – out of deep gratitude (and for the sake of my royal legacy) will do this marvellous thing for you.

David’s plan would ultimately have been for David’s glory. An edifice of staggering proportions, stunning design, draped with unimaginable wealth…

and God says NO.

‘Moreover the LORD declares to you that the LORD will make you a house.”

Of all the promises God might make, this seems the most improbable on the face of it…except we’re not talking brick and mortar here. “I will raise up your offspring after you, and I will establish his kingdom. He shall build be a house FOR MY NAME, and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever.”

Do you see it yet? Do you understand how wrong we’ve all been – with our penchant for large architecture, and our devotion to historic properties? We are prone to following in David’s footsteps. Our sanctuaries try to capture the glory and grandeur of God in their design and decoration. We have meant well – we really do aim to honour God in this. But through the prophet, God was pointing in a different direction. Metaphor – not Greek or Hebrew or the Good Old King James Version – is the language of these divine ideas.

God will build – God will shape and grow a new generation of people who will get it; who will be willing to read between the lines. A new generation who will understand the nuance – who will appreciate that ‘child of God’ means all of us…but there will first be that one descendant – the one on whom the rest will model their devotion and shape their living.

Absalom? Nope. Solomon? Not a chance… the family list grows longer. The answer is elusive.

Do you see it yet? Not a physical dwelling, and not just any old kingdom. There will be a son, ‘…and you shall name him Emmanuel – which means ‘God-with-us.’ And of HIS kingdom – the house that God will build – there shall be no end.

Okay. Now you see it. Now you get it. We may be heirs to David’s appetite for the grand gesture, but David is Jesus’ ancestor too. And we have experienced the mystery and magnificence of God’s promise in Jesus.

The divine metaphor continues in all that Jesus says and does. His lessons of love, his example of compassion, his efforts to show people that God’s promise might just bring out the best in us and in the world. His kingdom needs no army, and God’s glory needs no structural stand-in. Creation is the temple. Diverse and sufficient for the needs of every inhabitant And the community of compassion that Jesus helps build shall be ruled by grace, not guilt.

This promised kingdom has no grandeur – no riches – no power as we understand it (which is why we are still reluctant to embrace it.)

This house that God is making (present tense) is not what we expected, and – if we’re being honest – not the sort of dwelling we prefer.

Like David, we’d rather be comfortable – and we would make God just as comfortable. We call it honour, but it’s really a form of control.

All the finest fixtures and fittings. Neither sparing the expense nor skimping on comfort. That is the house we’d prefer – such is the kingdom we long for.

God doesn’t need to be comforted (or controlled) by us. God offers something else. A ‘house’ of God’s own design – but not a standing structure. A kingdom after God’s own mind – but not fashioned for domination. Something different that we have imagined. Something better than we can imagine.

Better for us – and for the wide, wonderful world. God offers serenity in place of security. Love instead of luxury. Compassion rather than comfort. Empathy, not extravagance. In the person of Jesus, God brought these qualities to bear on the world. And the world could not bear it. It was too good to be true, so the world rejected God’s great offer.

And God offers it still. For the worst that the world had to offer was no deterrent to the love of God in Christ Jesus, our Lord.

Risen and ascended we say – drawing out the metaphor to its glorious perfection. The resurrection of Christ proves that there is literally no limit to the love that God has. Beyond the mortal plain – the physical realm – even unto the limits of our imagination. God’s love reigns supreme.

The ‘house’ that God promised stands solidly – it’s doors wide open in invitation; it’s rooms spacious enough for all and sundry. A house meant to last an eternity.