Rooted in Grace: A Home for God’s Presence

There are few things I love more than the crisp air of autumn - the kind of cool weather that reminds us that change is here again. The trees are doing their annual work of letting go, and somehow in their release, beauty bursts forth. Autumn has this way of being both steady and startling: familiar rhythms laced with the ache of impermanence. 

In our scripture this week, Solomon is building something meant to last—the Temple of God. It’s the first permanent dwelling place for the divine presence among the people of Israel. Solomon gathers cedar from Lebanon, crafts stone foundations, and at last brings the Ark of the Covenant into a space prepared for glory. And when the people gather, God’s presence fills the Temple so fully that even the priests cannot stand. 

It’s a powerful image—a community rooted enough to build something sacred, yet humble enough to know it’s not the walls that make it holy. God’s presence still comes as cloud and mystery, refusing to be contained. 

As people of faith, I hear an invitation in this story. We, too, are builders—not of temples of stone, but of communities of grace. We bring what we have: cedar and song, prayers and casseroles, courage and laughter. We build something together not to trap God inside it, but to create space for God to dwell among us, here and now. 

It’s easy to feel like nothing is secure in this world. Yet, being rooted in grace means trusting that God’s love still takes up residence in the middle of our uncertainty. Being moved by love means we keep showing up for each other, keep building, keep letting beauty burst forth even when we’re not sure what comes next. 

This week, as you walk through fallen leaves or sip something warm, remember: we are the living temple of God’s presence. Wherever we make room for love, God moves in. 

Peace, 
PK