I was at church a couple Sundays ago and the pastor brought up something I never thought about. Places were significant in the Old Testament of the Bible.
When someone stopped to pray or worship the Lord, they typically built an altar out of the land around them. The altar then remained long after the person had their time with God.
It represented a physical place that someone met with him and experienced his presence. It was a physical sign of worship, of prayer, of crying out, of vulnerability.
That same person could come by in a week, a month, or even years and still see that altar there and remember why they built it. They could remember the time they spent with God in that place and also what was revealed to them.
The times that God met me in a “place” were many. Whether it was a physical place — like a lake near my hometown — or an emotional place — like a heartbreak or tough life change — God was there in that place giving me access to him, offering me an altar.
It’s astonishing to me sometimes that we can just meet God. We have access to him, right now. I think about how many times I take that for granted.
I have altars built throughout my life. They represent a different time I met with God, but they are there — in full existence — as evidence for my need and his mercy. My longing and his fulfillment. My fault and his forgiveness.
God has never shied away from me. I have altars all over the place. I think of my hometown, I think of retreats or camps I’ve been to, I think of the current place I’m in.
I only see places where I’ve needed to access his presence, time and again, and it’s only ever been available to me. God’s presence is available. I don’t think about that enough. I don’t take advantage of it.
An altar is more than a pile of rocks and a simple prayer. An altar signifies a place that God intervened in your life. That same altar then reminds you of his offered access.
God is basically asking us to engage with him, whenever we want. The invitation is there. We just have to join.