Ezra 3:12 But many of the priests and Levites and chief of the fathers, who were ancient men, that had seen the first house, when the foundation of this house was laid before their eyes, wept with a loud voice; and many shouted aloud for joy.
Israel's captivity had ended, and God moved the King of Persia to build a house for the Lord in Jerusalem. Over 43,000 Jews returned to the ruins of Jerusalem. The Levites were gathered, the priests played their trumpets, and the sons of Asaph sounded their cymbals as the foundation stone for the new temple was laid. It was a time of revival, joy, and celebration—God had visited His people again and was doing something new.
Most of the Jews present had only heard stories of the "good old days," when God’s glory resided in the temple in Jerusalem. This generation had only known life in Babylon under God’s judgment. They had never seen a temple, and to them, this was the greatest thing that had ever happened. But in the crowd was a less enthusiastic group—the "ancient men, that had seen the first house." Their response wasn’t joy, but heartbreak.
These men had witnessed the glory of the former house, not just its majestic structure, but the presence of the God whose glory filled it. They had something this new generation didn’t—the Ark of God, the eternal flame on the altar. I don’t condemn these men for their tears; I believe they were justified. Building the house of God without His glory is indeed something to weep about. A temple? For what—or rather, for who? The ark was lost, and without it, the blood couldn’t be applied to the altar for atonement. Without the eternal flame from heaven, they had to create their own fire. Truly, there was reason for sorrow.
We face a similar situation today. This generation builds churches that lack the power and presence of God. We rely on marketing campaigns, entertainment, and various techniques to grow them. My generation seems content when these kinds of churches arise—it’s the best they’ve ever known. Perhaps they’re so immersed in the world they don’t realize what makes a church a church. It’s not the sign outside or the number of people inside. It’s not even the pastor’s personality. If our churches lack God’s power and presence, we ought to weep, no matter who’s rejoicing or why.
In Revelation, the churches in Asia Minor were in danger of losing their candlestick—the light, the manifest presence of Jesus Christ. Today, many churches aren’t in danger of losing it—they’ve never had it. Just like the temple in Ezra’s time, they follow the forms, go through the motions, but the glory of God never fills them. We may have programs and buildings, but none of it matters unless He shows up to consume the sacrifice.
After this moment in Ezra, Israel headed into 400 years of silence. For the next four centuries, they perfected their dead religion. That’s what happens when the life of God departs from a church that continues to play-act. They become whitewashed sepulchers—beautiful on the outside but filled with dead men’s bones. No matter the fanfare at your church, don’t get swept up in the excitement of new things. If the Ancient of Days is missing—weep. If God’s power to convict and draw sinners is missing—weep. If the gospel that is the power of God is absent—weep. If the members are more excited about a new building than the foundation stone, Jesus Christ—weep. I believe while some of the younger Christians are rejoicing, the older ones ought to be weeping.
While today may call for weeping, and admittedly the future of the church in this age doesn’t seem hopeful, we won’t weep forever. In the days to come, the Lord will return and set all these human issues in order. Four hundred years after Ezra’s time, the One who truly makes the house of God the house of God would first be carried into the temple as a child and for the next thirty-three years, Jesus would visit the temple, and at the end of His life, He died, rose again, and gave us the promise of a new kind of temple—our bodies. Now, the fire that once burned on the altar in the Old Testament burns in our hearts, and the glory of the Lord abides within us. That is something no one can take away.
Our local assemblies may lose His manifest power and presence, but to the believer, He says, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.” Weep for your church, but rejoice that He abides within our hearts, not just the houses we build for Him.
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