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December 6th

Day 6

Zechariah 2:1-5, 10-11

I looked up and saw a man with a measuring line in his hand. Then I asked, 'Where are you going?'
He answered me, 'To measure Jerusalem, to see what is its width and what is its length.' Then the
angel who talked with me came forward, and another angel came forward to meet him, and said to him, 'Run, say to that young man: Jerusalem shall be inhabited like villages without walls, because of the multitude of people and animals in it. For I will be a wall of fire all round it, says the Lord, and I will be the glory within it.' Sing and rejoice, O daughter Zion! For lo, I will come and dwell in your midst, says the Lord. Many nations shall join themselves to the Lord on that day, and shall be my people; and I will dwell in your midst. And you shall know that the Lord of hosts has sent me to you.

Do you or I measure up? The psalmist asks, "If you, O Lord, kept a record of sins, O Lord, who could stand?" But this is something different. The city is being measured for size. I remember having my first suit ordered. The tailor with his tape measured my arms, legs and everywhere to produce something that fitted perfectly. God is preparing a protective wall of fire because no physical boundary is big enough to contain all the people and animals. Here is another promise that God will dwell with his Daughter Zion. There not many images on the Old Testament of God as Father. But that is how Jesus habitually referred to him. People are rightly proud of their cities boasting of their architecture, their cuisine or famous people. God says he will be the glory of this city. Shout and be glad. I struggle with the competing pulls of glory and humility. But this is the same prophet who spoke about a king coming meekly and riding on a donkey. Ecclesiastes says there is a time for everything. I will live among you and you will know that the Lord Almighty has sent me to you. And Simon Peter declared, "You are the Christ, the son of the living God".

In the cross of Christ I glory:
Towering o'er the wrecks of time,
All the light of sacred story
Gathers round its head sublime.

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