When they placed their threshold by my threshold and their doorpost by my doorpost, with only the wall between me and them, they profaned my holy name by the abominable deeds they committed. (Ezekiel 43:8)
Dani and I once lived next to furloughed missionaries with a doorway connecting our apartments. Residing adjacent to them made us self-conscious of playing loud music, the clutter we left out, and our conversations near the thin door.
The Bible says we are the new temple of God. That means his Most Holy Place is inside me, just over the threshold from the Holy Place of my mind. It makes me think twice about the garbage I permit into my thoughts.
In the days of the physical temple, the Holy Place was where consecrated priests continually offered incense. Today, it’s the place in my mind from which prayers float upward, offered by a purified conscience. This is meant to be a quiet, reverent space in my being, filled with sweet thoughts of my wonderful Savior. I fear it is otherwise.
Oh, what sacrilege I permit in my thoughts, right next to God’s abode. Instead of a sanctuary, my mind is a party house with every kind of impurity running in and out. I may not act on the demonic banter in my head, but I often entertain temptation before giving it an eviction notice.
I want to clean up my Holy Place for my incredible neighbor’s sake. It’s time to refuse visitors of fantasy, envy, or worry. I must point to the narrow threshold that separates my mind from the home of the Most High God and send those thoughts scurrying.
Prayer: Holy Father, forgive my trash and help me clean up.