Constructing Canopies--September 8, 2021

Constructing Canopies--September 8, 2021

"For he looked forward to the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God." [Hebrews 11:10]

One of the recurring roles that has been entrusted to me in church life that I never envisioned back in seminary was "Canopy Tent Assembly Worker."  But it's a role that has taught me a great deal about life and deepened my faith, even though there aren't any classes offered in divinity school on the subject.

The two congregations I serve jointly own a decent sized canopy tent--it probably covers a twenty-foot by fifteen-foot rectangle, and rises ten feet in the air at the peak.  Its posts are made of sturdy metal tubes about three inches in diameter each, which connect with various elbow joint pieces of equally sturdy cast metal, and then the whole thing gets covered with a huge tarpaulin that secures in place with special bungee cords and grommets.  It's big enough that set-up and tear-down are pretty much a four or five person job, and that's usually a rotating cast of different church volunteers--whoever happens to be available in advance of whatever church function we are using it for, from a craft fair to Bible School to a concert in the park.

So as a result of all sweaty Saturday mornings or Sunday afternoons I've been a part of crews putting up that tent and pulling it down again, I have learned the difficult work of building temporary structures well.  The challenge there is the word "temporary."  It means we have to construct something that will stay up, reliably and durably without risk of collapsing on someone or getting pulled apart in a strong wind, but also we have to be able to take it all down when the time comes, so that the traveling road show of church activities can move on to the next thing, and the next after that.  To assemble a canopy tent means putting something together that you know won't last forever--because it isn't meant to--but to put it together correctly so that it will serve its purpose rightly and shelter people when you need it to.  You have to take good care of your tarp and poles and elbow joints because you'll need them again, but you also have to remember that you're not building a cathedral that will stand for a thousand years, either.  It's a difficult dance to get right, honestly.

And like I say, I think there's a lot to be learned about our posture as people of faith in that mindset.  For the people of God, we are called simultaneously to live our lives well in this world, taking care of our bodies, our neighbors, our planet, and our resources so that they will last and work rightly... and yet at the same time, we are called beyond any particular instance of "the way things are" in this life, too.  We are called to remember that our lives, our bank accounts, our job titles, our diplomas on the wall, and our piles of stuff will not last, and that they can't be all we build our lives on.  And yet we are meant to be good stewards of what has been entrusted to us so that each thing can serve its proper purpose.  We are constantly setting up canopies in this life, and the challenge is to remember they aren't meant to last forever, but they need to be able to stay up and shelter people underneath for as long as necessary.

The writer of Hebrews sees old wandering father Abraham as a good example of just that.  He literally lived in tents for many years of his life, knowing that they had to be sturdy enough to provide shelter from the elements when they were set up, but also portable enough to carry in the caravan from place to place as his household migrated in a foreign land as foreigners themselves.  He looked forward to the promise God had spoken that one day his family would find rest in a place they could call home, but he also knew that he would spend all of his days setting up and pulling down those temporary tents along the way.  And that meant at every stop, whether by a spring or an oasis or the "terebinths of Mamre," he had to make sure the tentpoles would stay up when they were camped but would be able to come down when it was time to move to new pastures as God directed.  It's a way of life that has to be both responsible to the present and also attentive to the future at the same time.  In other words, it's a life marked by faith in the God who makes promises.

An awful lot of our troubles arise from missing one or the other of those two--our responsibility in the present and God's promise of the future.  Sometimes Christians make it sound like we are supposed to wreck the world we live in as a show of our faith in the world to come, and that makes for irresponsible tent-building for the work we have been given right now.  On the other hand, if all we are focused on is making more money, having more stuff, or impressing our neighbors, we're in for a rude awakening when none of those things turn out to really matter.  If we treat God's creation like we can waste or ruin it, something has gone wrong.  If we pretend we don't have a responsibility to our neighbors and their well-being--whether helping prevent spreading COVID to them, or making sure they aren't been mistreated, or bringing over a meal when they're going through a crisis, or whatever else--we are missing the point of this life.  And at the same time, if we're so obsessed with what we possess, earn, or control in this life, we'll have wasted our lives when all those things get pulled down at the end of this life.  

Forget about the need to assemble your tent poles correctly now, and they'll come crashing down in the middle of your bake sale.  Try and make the tent into a permanent construction and you'll be let down when it doesn't last as long as you want it to.  The trick is to remember that the God who promises us a future and a home in the new creation is also the God who has placed us in this present moment, in this world, with these people and creatures and resources to care for.  It's not a choice between future glory or present life--it's about how we live responsibly in one while remembering that all we ever do in this world is set up temporary dwellings, not eternal monuments.

When you are clear on that, you can live this life well, steward your resources faithfully, and love your neighbors deeply, while knowing you are still headed for home.  And in the mean time, we are free to travel light, ready to go where God leads.

Lord God, give us the wisdom and courage to use this day well, while always looking forward to your promised future at the same time.