(This sermon was preached at California Road Missionary Church on November 3, 2024. The following two weeks look at other aspects of worship.)

For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by setting aside in his flesh the law with its commands and regulations. His purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace, and in one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility. He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit.

Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit. (Ephesians 2:14-22)

We’re going to surface into that passage in a few minutes, but first we’re going to do a deep dive into the biblical story, and we’ll start by thinking about “The Fall.” Do you know the expression? Theologians call the sin of Adam and what resulted from it, “The Fall.”

Our mental image of “The Fall” might be of a slip at the bottom of the basement stairs. That kind of fall can be pretty debilitating, but with a little rest, and maybe some physical therapy, will be fine. And if not, we can always see the surgeon.

But when we think of the Fall of Adam (“Adam” means “human”), don’t think of grandma on the basement steps. Think of Humpty Dumpty’s great fall. Or, better yet, think of Brad Guy. Brad is an Australian man who got a surprise on his 21st birthday. He was a big-time thrill-seeker, so his parents gifted him with a fourteen-thousand-foot skydiving experience. Since this was his first time, he went tandem with a veteran instructor. Brad was all geeked to try it.

They jumped out of the airplane and went hurtling towards earth. At 4,000 feet, when the instructor deployed the chute, Brad heard him swear. When you are falling from a height of over two miles at a speed of 120 miles per hour that is not what you want to hear. The primary chute tore when it opened, and sent the skydivers into a dizzying spiral. Brad asked the instructor, “Are we going to die?” and he answered, “I don’t know.”

Then the instructor pulled the chord on the back-up chute, but it got tangled in the primary chute, and the two men continued their wild spiral towards the earth. They landed in a shallow pond or swamp. The instructor hit the ground first, Brad landed on top of him, and, miraculously, both of them survived. But they were horribly broken up, and the mental anguish of the experience was almost unbearable.

When you think of The Fall of humanity, don’t think of grandma on the basement steps. Think of Brad at 14,000 feet.

The Fall of Adam shattered us. It broke our relationship with God and with each other. It damaged our ability to think. Our mind and will and emotions are all out of order. Humanity suffers a kind of spiritual PTSD to this day. If you think there might be something wrong with you, you are not mistaken. You are suffering from “The Fall.”

And it’s not just us who suffer. It is all of creation. If, when you watch the news or hear about natural or human-instigated disasters, and you think, “It’s not supposed to be this way,” you’re right. When man fell, he not only shattered himself; he broke the world. It’s damaged. It’s under a curse.

Maybe you’re thinking, “But that’s not fair! Why should so much hardship should result from one man’s mistake?” But what the humans did was not a mistake. It was a rebellion. That’s why C. S. Lewis said, “Fallen man is not simply an imperfect creature who needs improvement: he is a rebel who must lay down his arms.”[1]

The Fall disordered the world God had so carefully ordered. You remember the story: On the first day of creation, God made light, separated it from darkness, and called the light “day” and the darkness “night.” And he saw that it was good.

On the second day, he separated the waters below from those above, and he called the expanse above sky. On the third day he divided the waters below by causing dry ground to appear. He named the dry ground “land” (or earth) and the waters “sea.” And just as on day one, he saw that it was good. Then he made vegetation – seed bearing plants that would reproduce. And that was good. It was a well-ordered world.

On the fourth day he placed lights in the sky – the sun, moon and stars. In so doing he gave us seasons, months and years. And he saw that was good.

On the fifth day, he filled the sea with creatures and the sky with birds. And he saw it was good. He blessed the sea creatures and the birds to reproduce and fill the earth.

On the sixth day he made land creatures of all kinds: cattle and sheep and horses and monkeys and snakes and giraffes and squirrels and dogs – every kind of creature you can think of; and God saw that was good. Then he made a human. And when he did that, he said, “It is very good.”

Then on the seventh day God rested.

When we ready this story, we tend to ask questions that would never have occurred to its first readers. We think of Genesis 1 as a defense of a six-day, supernatural creation. But the author wasn’t trying to prove a supernatural creation—he didn’t need to. When Genesis was written, no one doubted that the universe was divinely created.

The question was not, “Did a God create the world?” It was, “Which god created the world?” The Egyptians credited several of their gods. The Babylonians thought Apsu and Tiamat brought the earth into being. Just around the Mediterranean, there were plenty of Creation stories and plenty of gods to choose from. But Genesis claims that Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, created the world.

Before we go on, let’s pause to consider the word translated “created.” It always and only takes God as its subject. This word never refers to the creative act of any human. God stands alone as the Creator. We should also note that this word, which is used rather often in Scripture, is elsewhere never used of creating matter. Rather, it is used in regard to function. It has the idea of getting things up and running.

Now before you jump to the conclusion that God didn’t create matter – that it was already here and he just arranged it – you need to remember that other passages of Scripture, like Colossians 1 and Hebrews 1, teach that he did. He made everything. But Genesis is more interested in what he made everything for. In Genesis 1, God is getting his world up and running for a purpose. What is that purpose?

If you were a Jew reading Genesis in ancient times, you would notice something we often miss. You would say to yourself, “Oh, I see what’s going on here. The Creator God is making himself a temple.”

In ancient times, when a temple was completed, there would be seven days of dedication. So, when Solomon built the first temple, we read that he and all Israel “celebrated it before the LORD our God for seven days and seven days more” (1 Kings 8:65). They were so excited they celebrated a second seven-day dedication. In other ancient Near Eastern literature, we find the same seven-day period for temple dedication. That’s why an early reader coming to this passage would say, “Ah, the God is setting up a temple.”

And when he came to chapter 2, verse 15, and read that Adam was to work the garden and take care of it, his hypothesis would have been confirmed. Without exception, when those two verbs are used together in the Old Testament, they mean “to serve and to guard,” and are used most frequently of the priests who serve God in his temple, and guard it from any unclean thing that might enter. This is temple language.

When Genesis 2 tells us that God finished all the work he had been doing and on the seventh day rested, we need to realize he wasn’t taking a nap. He was taking his place – his place in the temple he had built. Eden was its holy of holies, where the humans met and worshiped their Creator. God’s plan was to extend his temple until it filled the whole earth. And the humans were to be his priests.

But the humans were not satisfied with being priests; they wanted to be gods. Do you remember the temptation to which they succumbed? “Eat of the fruit…and you will be like God” (Genesis 3:5). The humans who were made to worship chose rather to be worshiped. They imagined they could take God’s temple as their own; no longer his servants but his peers; perhaps even, his rivals. It was with the words “You will be like God” ringing in their ears that they ate the fruit. They did not make a mistake; they launched a rebellion.

And that rebellion resulted in a fall – a Brad Guy-fall-from-the-sky, crash-and-burn fall. Humanity survived, but we are not the same. The fall shattered the image of God in us. Instead of being his worshipers, we became self-worshipers. The temple (that we call earth) became a place of thorns and thistles, of water shortages and air pollution and hurricanes and tornados. The happy place where humans met God became the tragic place where humanity lost itself.

But here is the good news. God did not give up on his plan. The day will yet come when people will know and communicate with God. “The earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD,” as the prophets declared (Isaiah 11:9; Habakkuk 2:14). “No longer will they teach their neighbor, or say to one another, ‘Know the Lord,’
because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest,” declares the Lord. “For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more.” (Jeremiah 31:34). God did not give up on his plan. He still hasn’t.

But how would God make it happen? That is the story of the Bible. After the Fall, God intended to establish a new covenant with humankind. Under that covenant, God would return humans to their rightful place – “they will be [God’s] people,” not his peers nor his rivals. And God would take his rightful place – “and [God] will be their God” (Jeremiah 31:33).

But a covenant must be ratified before it can take effect. And to ratify a covenant there must be a sacrifice. Do you remember what Jesus said on the eve of the crucifixion: “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you.” (Luke 22:20). The plan to lift us up after The Fall, to restore the divine image in us, to reestablish fellowship between humans and God, and make the world once again into a temple has hinged on Jesus from the very beginning. He lifts up the fallen, restores the broken, reconciles the alienated, and becomes the mediator between God and humans. Through him the whole earth will again be God’s temple. Jesus is the key.

And that brings us to our text in Ephesians 2. “The Fall” not only resulted in the alienation of humans from God but in the alienation of humans from each other. But through his death, and as a sign of his power, Christ brought the most divided people – Jews and Gentiles – together and reconciled both to God. Now look at verse 18: “For through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit.”

Access to the Father by the Spirit—that’s temple/worship language. Do you see what’s happening? Through Jesus the restoration God promised has begun. Through what he’s done and who he is, humans can again meet with God. What the first Adam threw away the second Adam (Jesus) has recovered.

The first Adam made us a race of usurpers; the second Adam (verse 19) makes us God’s people and members of his household. The first Adam made us sinners. The second Adam makes us saints. Because of the first Adam we were lost; because of the second we are found. Jesus is the Restorer of lost things.

There’s a wonderful scene at the end of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. Sam, the simple hero of the story, awakes from a coma-like state to find that all the horror of death and destruction is past. The rebellion and the myriad evils that accompanied it are over. To his amazement, he finds his dear friends alive and well, and he says, “Is everything sad going to come untrue? What has happened to the world?”  

Once we see what God has done and is doing through Jesus, we might ask the same question. “Is everything sad going to come untrue?” And the answer is yes. The rebellion will be put down, the lowly will be raised up, and our Humpty-Dumpty lives will be put back together again. Creation itself will be healed of its deep wounds.

Most of that is future, but the people of Jesus are a sign in the present, pointing to that future, especially as we overcome the alienating barriers of race and ethnicity in the church (Eph. 2:14-17). We are more than a sign. We are a construction project (v. 20), being “…built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone…”

But being built into what? That’s the question. What is this great purpose God has in mind for us? Well, go back to creation and ask what God was doing then. He was building a temple in which he and humans could meet and know each other and be known by each other. That purpose has not changed. God is still building a temple. Not a temple of dead stone but of living people. Verse 21: “In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord.”

God’s plan is for us to be the entryway into his presence. In ancient times, inquirers went to Solomon’s temple to encounter God. Now they come to us (or we go to them). What a privilege! What a responsibility! This is why Paul tells the Corinthians, “…we are the temple of the living God,” and then citing Isaiah 52 and Ezekiel 20 adds: “…As God has said: ‘I will live with them and walk among them, and I will be their God, and they will be my people.’ Therefore, ‘Come out from them and be separate, says the Lord. Touch no unclean thing, and I will receive you.’” (2 Corinthians 6:16-17). That is temple talk.

He goes on: “Since we have these promises…” (that we will be his temple and he will live among us), “let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God.” (2 Corinthians 7:1). The idea is that a temple must be pure for the god to indwell it, and we are the Lord’s temple. God intends to reveal himself through us to our neighbor, our family member, the server at the restaurant, and the mechanic at the garage. You and I individually and, even more importantly, you and I corporately, are to become the meeting place between God and people. We, verse 22, “are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.”

And listen: the day is coming when the project will be completed, the dedication will be held, and “Then suddenly the Lord you are seeking will come to his temple…” (Malachi 3:1). People wrongly refer to that coming as “the end”; it is just the beginning.

Many things happen in a temple, but chief among them is worship. To belong to Christ is to be a worshiper. Worship shapes us. Worship heals us. Worship makes us whole.

When we do not worship God, we fall where Adam fell – into self-worship, fear and alienation. Worship is not something we go to; it is something we do – and can learn to do – all the time. Learning to worship is to a Christian what learning to fly is to a bird. Too many Christians never leave the nest because they never learn to worship. Next week we are going to get practical about the act of worship. If worship is crucial to our wellbeing, and to the world around us, then we need to learn everything we can that will help us be better worshipers – and what we learn might surprise us.

Blessing/Sending

Brothers and sisters, go into the world in the name of our great High Priest Jesus. Worship the LORD with gladness. For the Lord is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations.

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[1] C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (New York: HarperCollins, 1952/2001), 56.