Exodus 20:25 “If you make an altar of stone for Me, you shall not build it of cut stones, for if you wield your tool on it, you will profane it.”
The altar of the Old Testament was a representation of worship. It was where sacrifice was made, where the people brought the best they had to be laid out and offered to God.
Why did God command that the stones of the altar be uncut?
I had read over those words several months ago and that question seemed to jump out at me. God is looking for worship from us. Worship that is laid out on uncut stone.
I had to ask Him what that meant. How does that apply to me?
Have you ever tried to worship when you are angry? Sad? Guilty? Ashamed?
God wants you to come to him and lay out your best on top of that mess. Sacrifice your praise to Him on top of the knowledge that you yelled at your kids unnecessarily, cut someone off in traffic, ate more ice cream than you should have, lied, went to a less than edifying movie, let a cuss word fly or forgot to put deodorant on.
Before you fix it, before you run to polish yourself up, before you wipe away, cut off or disassemble the excess jagged edges of your flesh, He’s interested in hearing your best offering of praise and thanksgiving.
You don’t have to be perfect.
You don’t have to fix anything.
You don’t have to cover up, compensate or scrape away the layer of sludge you picked up in the world you live in before you let loose a cry of acknowledgement to Him. Just know who He is and say it. Just recognize what He’s done and thank Him. Just open your stained lips and sing out the awesomeness of God, because it’s only the perishing that need a Savior, it’s only the hurt that need healing, only the child that needs a Father. And if you fix it, with all your amazing abilities, talents and goodness, you’ll never really know what He can do. You’ll get a taste, you’ll appreciate the grace the acceptance and the warmth of His love, but you’ll never know for sure that you didn’t earn it somehow. It’s only when we come raw and uncut to the altar that we see grace for everything it is.
I’m learning this every day. I’m building on it. I’m practicing and failing and practicing again. I’m not perfect. I’m not perfect. I’m not perfect, not on my own, not by my abilities, not by my trying, not by a long shot. I am simply uncut stone, ready to bear the offering.
I raise my hand out of the humble heap of my own misshapen ideals and plead with Him…”say unto my soul, I am your salvation.” I know how unworthy I am, but my offering is pure, and good, and unblemished. And from this wild heap of asymmetrical humanity, my eyes are raised to the God who won’t think twice about accepting me in all my dirt and squalor. All the perfecting that needs to be done on me is in His hands, His chisel and His eye for detail. In this, as His possession, I am made perfect, and I know beyond all doubt that I am His.