Ken and I were cleaning out the garage the other day and we came across our old tent, our canvas tent we used to use when we first got married, when we really enjoyed tent camping—can you believe that, I can’t believe I did that—we used to go up in the Sierras or down to Carpinteria Beach. He kind of looked at me, you know this big old tent with spider webs all over it, and he asked, “Do we want to keep this?” I looked at it, frowned, and shook my head. No way; I do not want to go beach camping in a tent anymore. I am in my late 50s and I am done with that kind of stuff!
Speaking of our tent, you probably already know that the apostle Paul was a missionary by calling, but a tentmaker by trade. During his ministry in Corinth, he stayed with a fellow tentmaker named Aquila. So the two men would ply their craftsmanship in the tent shop during the week – can’t you just picture it – and then Paul would go into the synagogue on Sabbath days, and reason with the Jews and Greeks.
Years later, when he was writing to the church at Corinth, he must have been reminded of those tent-making days with Aquila, because he wove some tent metaphors into his letter. Speaking of the contrast between this earthly life and the life in heaven to come, he wrote in 2 Corinthians: “Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.”
Boy, do I like that passage. Because like Ken and I used to enjoy our tent, when I was a little girl we went beach camping as kids; and I thought living in a tent was the ultimate adventure. Man, I loved the sand on the canvas floor. Mosquitoes? Who cares! Just get out the mosquito netting. Rain? Break out the tarps and pull down the canvas flaps. Hey, a little dirt never hurt anybody. Living in a tent (we thought back then) was such great fun!
Now, many years later, like I said, it’s a different story. Ken and I agree that tent camping became a little more strenuous with each passing year. And we don’t like the sand, or the mosquitoes, or the dirt, or the rain. You can have it.
Maybe that’s why Paul the tentmaker likened living in these bodies of ours to occupying a tent. Unless you happen to be a Bedouin out in the Arabian desert, a tent is only meant to be temporary housing. You can only take it for so long. And with each passing year, we find living in these bodies of ours more strenuous than the year before. Paul says, “We groan.” And the older we get, the more we groan. I'm not complaining, I'm just stating the facts, it’s hard. But aren’t you glad we won’t always be “groaning” with these patchwork tents of ours? Oh, I'll live with this old tent with faith in God for the meantime. But, hey, soon it’ll be time to break camp, roll up the tent, and go on home to my house in heaven. Yippee!
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JONI AND FRIENDS
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