I was raised in a small, two-bedroom, one-bathroom home. Since my sister and I shared a room, there was never a guest bedroom to offer friends and relatives who came to visit. But that really didn’t matter much because the majority of our relatives lived within a couple of hours of our home. It wasn’t uncommon for us to drive to the home of an aunt and uncle, eat at their table, spend the day laughing and reminiscing, then drive home to sleep in our own beds at night. They did the same at our house, so the need for a guest room was mostly a moot point. Occasionally, my sister or I would have a sleepover guest, but we had a very large bedroom that included our two beds and plenty of floor space for pallets or cots to offer youthful guests. (When you are a kid, having your own bed is not necessary for a successful sleepover!) However, as I grew into adulthood, I remember thinking that it was important to have a “guest room” to offer people who visited.
When I married and had my own home, we lived too far away for my parents to simply visit for the day. Their trips to our house always included a few nights spent in our home. And despite the fact that we always had a nice, adequate place to live, we never had the luxury of a designated guest room to offer them. It bothered me that we couldn’t give them their own comfortable private space, but it wasn’t possible. So we made it work the best way we could.
In the early years of our marriage, we lived in apartments with limited space, and our living room couch was the only guest accommodation. It was a couch that unfolded into a two-sectioned double-sized bed (a large crack right down the middle!). It was stiff and uncomfortable, hardly large enough for two adults to easily sleep on. And, of course, it was smack-dab in the middle of the apartment with no privacy. But my parents, who were in their 60s by that time, did indeed come to visit because they longed to see their grandchildren and it was worth the discomfort and inconvenience. There was never a thought of staying in a nearby hotel because they wanted to be with us!
Later, we purchased a couch that opened into a queen-sized bed that was decidedly more comfortable than our first couch, but it still wasn’t like a guest bed . . . and still lacked privacy. Eventually, our children had decent beds in their rooms and one or the other would give their room up for the comfort of their grandparents during those visits. It was a step up but still not a true guest room, since either set of grandparents might have to step on forgotten Legos or push aside a Barbie house to make room for their alarm clock on the table.
During all those years until my children were grown and away from home, I felt like an inadequate hostess for not having that designated guest room to offer our family and friends. While I enjoyed having overnight guests, I was often embarrassed to offer them something less than the well-appointed room of my dreams.
The room I envisioned had a large, comfortable bed with matching side tables on which perched identical lamps that bathed the room in a soft glow. There would be a down-filled comforter that matched the curtains at the window. A fluffy throw rug beside the bed would add warmth to the room. A vase of fresh flowers would sit on the dresser, and perhaps a scented candle. Inviting landscape scenes would hang in beautiful frames on the walls, alongside photos of our family. A folding luggage rack would sit along one wall and the closet would have plenty of space for clothes, equipped with extra hangers.
The adjoining private bath would be sparkling clean, unfettered with the used toothbrushes of my children or any of their bath-time toys. Instead, the guest bath would have scented soaps, designer shampoo and body wash bottles, plenty of counter space for my guests’ cosmetics, and a loaner hair dryer. Soft plush guest towels would hang neatly on the rack. Extra toothbrushes, toothpaste, and other amenities would be in the drawer, along with ibuprofen and bandaids and any other emergency items they might have failed to pack. The entire guest suite would be like a well-appointed hotel, but with homey personal touches.
Personally, I always feel especially pampered when I visit people who have guest rooms such as I have described. While it’s not essential nor do I expect it, it’s still a surprisingly nice touch. Despite my desire to offer that kind of hospitality, I never felt I was able to provide such accommodations for my guests.
With those memories as the backdrop, I read a blog earlier this week that opened my mind to a new understanding of my relationship with the Lord. The author quoted Exodus 25:8 ~ “Then have them make a sanctuary for me, and I will dwell among them.” The Lord proceeded to give detailed instructions to Moses on how to build the Tabernacle. If you haven’t read that passage recently, you might scan it with a fresh eye regarding how specific the instructions were for this structure. Don’t miss the fact that this was a blueprint for the Guest Room the Israelites were to build, because God wanted to come stay with them! He didn’t need the extravagance for his own comfort, but He wanted them to feel that they were honoring him with their best . . . to take pride in the preparation and in their craftsmanship that would give the best they had to God.
The difference in the analogy lies in the word DWELL. God wasn’t just planning a weekend trip to check on how things were going. To dwell meant He was going to move in and live among them! And despite his explicit instructions, I really suspect He would have been happy living among them with more humble amenities. After all, look at the simple, primitive accommodations He provided in which His Son would be born. For God, it wasn’t about having a palace or rich furnishings. He just wanted to know that his people wanted him among them, and would welcome and honor him when He moved in. In the words of the September 10th blog by Erin Davis, this God—"the God who spoke the stars into being . . . who measures the waters of the earth in his hand—that God chose to dwell in a tent built by human hands.” [1]
My parents would have been more comfortable in a well-appointed guest room, so why were they willing—even eager—to keep coming to visit? Because they longed to be with us. They loved us, missed us, couldn’t wait to spend time in our presence ~ no matter the cost or inconvenience. The lack of a glamourous guest suite did not keep them away. They were just happy to be wanted, thrilled to be welcomed into our home. Their desire to be with us was stronger than their need for comfort.
And so is God’s. He just wants to be with his children. The God of the Universe has always wanted to have a relationship with us; He wants to dwell with us!
My parents were people with limited resources. While they lived comfortably and we always had what we needed as children, they were not rich people. If they had been wealthy, though, they would have been tempted to step in and offer to help their grown children. If they had had abundant resources in their hands, it would not have surprised me if they had looked at the modest home we owned and begun a building project for a larger, more spacious home for us.
In a similar way, I think the Lord’s desire to dwell with us extends to His provision of a new home more grand than anything we ever imagined we could have for our own. We will no doubt be surprised at the lavish palace He has been preparing for us when we come to live with Him. He will hold nothing back in the accommodations He is preparing for those of us who are His Kids. Unlike my inability to provide the perfect Guest Room, God has all the resources, as well as the desire, to prepare a perfect place in which we may one day dwell.
He has promised it; we can count on it!
