So Jesus went into The Temple and saw it being abused in a way that burnt his fuse all the way into the core. He blew up. The temple was to be a house of prayer, but it had been turned into a place of business, and dirty business at that.
Maybe what I need to understand about the temple that I am is that I am to be a house of God’s communication. I am a dwelling for His divine correspondence with me, and me with Him. But I am also the place where his communication with those He has not yet been able to inhabit takes place. (You may have to read these sentences a few times for them to make sense, sorry. And my apologies to those proficient in English who know how I should have said all that.)
I am a house of prayer; He and I in union, He and the world in touch. He in me and me in them. That sounds kind of familiar.
The next time my phone rings I’ll be reminded of this. There are times when God and I talk together in this temple. But there are times when God talks to me and I need to, have to, tell the world, “it’s for you.”