We’ve made marketplaces out of our temples.
These hearts and souls that trade and bargain and harbor merchandise.
We loan our time and our emotions to earthly pursuits,
And wonder why… Why can He not dwell in my temple?
And when He comes,
Knocking down our tables and shattering our goods,
We wonder why He’s so furious, so angry, so agitated.
Swinging that whip like a mad man.
Is He not love?
At the core of the fury is a Love so jealous,
Relentless in His pursuit, crushing every other lover.
That He might be our glory. And we might be His temple.
A habitation of His presence, a conduit of His majesty.