Bethel: It's the Entryway, Not the Living Room

Bethel Camp is a tiny camp set in the mountains of eastern Kentucky. It is a collection of old houses-turned-into-dorms/offices, a playground area, a ball field, a creek, and lots of trails into the hills around it. The Bethel Camp of my childhood housed a chapel and a rec hall in an ancient chicken house, renovated just enough to sport a tiny stage and several hard wooden pews. The dining hall was the first floor of the house in the picture, which had been cleared out to cram in eight or nine tables. Fire rings dotted the property, which served as places for picnics, worship sessions, and testimony times. There in that place was where the mosquito dwelt eternally.

The presence of the Lord was there, always. The chicken house-turned-chapel shook with the praises of children, the hills rang with the worship of teenagers. 

I spent several summers at Bethel, first as a camper, then as a counselor. Though the face of it has changed a little (check out their beautiful new-ish chapel/dining hall/rec room/all-purpose building), the thing that hasn't changed is the purpose. The camp itself is a meeting place, a significant experience in the lives of hundreds, even thousands over the generations, of young people. It lives up to its Biblical meaning: "House of God."

Jacob's Bethel shows up in Genesis 28. After his great deception of his father, and after claiming God's covenant promise made to his father Isaac and his grandfather Abraham, Jacob leaves home, heading for Paddan Aram where his mother's family lives. He intends to take a wife from there, and someday... he'll come back. But he's going to let his brother cool off a bit. Esau's ready to kill him for what he did.

I love to travel at night; I hate squinting against the sun for hours on end. Eye strain and tension usually end up giving me a headache. Also, the highways are significantly less crowded at one o'clock in the morning. Jacob has a long way to travel, and there's no such thing as driving through the night. Predators are a noteworthy concern for a person alone and outside, as well as the fact that he doesn't have headlights. 

He stops for the night and makes camp. He grabs the nearest rock and cuddles with it for his pillow (ouch). When he falls asleep, he has a dream, and in this dream, he sees a stairway that reaches from the earth up to heaven. On the stairs, he sees angels ascending and descending the stairway, and at the very top, he sees God. If you're familiar with what a ziggurat looked like, it sounds fairly similar to what Jacob saw in his dream.

God, as He did many times over with Abraham, as He continued to do many times over with Isaac, and as He does now for the first time with Jacob, reiterates His covenant promise: "I will give you and your descendants the land on which you are lying. Your descendants will be like the dust of the earth, and you will spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All peoples on earth will be blessed through you and your offspring."

It's important to note here: Jacob has yet to acknowledge God as his God. In the chapter before, he told Isaac when he served him the meal to receive the inheritance blessing: "The Lord your God gave me success."

So... why is God acknowledging Jacob as His inheritor when Jacob hasn't yet claimed Him as his God?

I think God's a little bigger than the boxes we often cram Him into, right? We strive to pigeonhole Him into our expectations, but oddly enough, God never fits there. Huh. How about that. 

Isaiah 45:4-7 says about Cyrus of Babylon: "For the sake of Jacob my servant, of Israel my chosen, I summon you by name and bestow on you a title of honor, though you do not acknowledge me. I am the Lord, and there is no other; apart from me there is no God. I will strengthen you, though you have not acknowledged me, so that from the rising of the sun to the place of its setting, men may know there is none besides Me. I am the Lord, and there is no other."

God summoned Cyrus, though Cyrus did not acknowledge Him. God used the sovereign of a nation to complete His purpose and desire, even though that sovereign refused to give Him credence. Who does that? Who has the authority to orchestrate on such a level? Only God Himself can order the affairs of nations, even when its leaders do not acknowledge Him.

Can we see just a hint of application to current events happening here? I mean... *mind blown.*

So, back in Genesis 28:15, God keeps talking to Jacob, the One Who Deceives (see my rant about name meanings in yesterday's blog post), the one who does not acknowledge God as his God. "I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you."

Y'all, here's the thing: we can push back against God all we want. We can deny His existence, we can make all the claims to glory and know-it-all-ness that we feel like doing. In the end, God still has the last word, and His presence is still going to be there. All the pushing, shoving, and denial in the world is not going to make Him less present, less real.

This camping spot that Jacob picked is where he finally understands this. This is his first real encounter with the God of heaven, with - as Hagar put it years before this - "the God who sees me." 

When Jacob woke up the next morning, he says in verse 17: "How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven!" He sets up the rock he'd used as a pillow the night before, pours oil on it, and calls the campsite Bethel, which means: House of God.

Bethel, the meeting place with God.
Bethel, the entryway into the place where God lived.
Bethel, the place where the master of the house greets His guests and washes their feet (I'll get into foot-washing in some far-distant blog post; for now, just know that this hospitable, service-oriented action is super significant).

"How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord of hosts!" (Psalm 84:1). This is the place where Jacob first acknowledges God as his God. The chrysalis has begun to crack; the transformation is taking place. He still holds the name One Who Deceives, but now he realizes his deception. He realizes his sin. 

He conditionally accepts his new role. "If God will be with me and will watch over me on this journey I am taking and will give me food to eat and clothes to wear so that I return safely to my father's house, then the Lord will be my God and this stone that I have set up as a pillar will be God's house, and of all that You give me I will give you a tenth."

Jacob's journey isn't done. His transformation isn't complete. I would love to have seen him leap up from his rocky pillow and fall on his knees and claim the promises that God just got done reminding him of a few minutes ago. I wanted to see him shout to the heavens: "God, you are my God!" as his descendant does generations following him in Psalm 64:1.

There at Bethel, Jacob found the gates of heaven. But he's still in the entryway. He still has to trek on into the house, the dwelling place of the Lord where he will sit in communion, in back-and-forth fellowship with God. God still has to change his name. Here's your cliffhanger: Jacob's journey isn't done.