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A message to the New Creation…
There is a line that few dare to cross—because once crossed, everything changes. It’s the line between believing in God and hosting Him. Between being a recipient of grace and becoming a carrier of glory. Between attending church and being the tabernacle. The moment a believer becomes fully aware that the living God—Father, Word, and Spirit—has taken residence within their body, nothing is casual anymore. Everything becomes holy. Every breath becomes sacred. Every step becomes dangerous. Because to house the Godhead is to carry the weight of heaven on earth.
The old covenant had the Ark of the Covenant—a golden chest that held the tablets of the Law, Aaron’s rod that budded, and a jar of manna. But its greatest feature was not its contents. It was the Presence that rested upon it. The ark was untouchable, holy, deadly to the impure. Only one man, once a year, could approach the mercy seat—and not without blood (Leviticus 16). Uzzah reached out to steady it and dropped dead (2 Samuel 6:6–7). The ark was sacred because it hosted God.
Now consider this terrifying truth: the new creation is not a golden box. It is you. You are the ark now.
“Do you not know that you are a temple of God and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?” (1 Corinthians 3:16 NASB)
“What agreement does the temple of God have with idols? For we are the temple of the living God, just as God said: ‘I will dwell among them and walk among them; and I will be their God, and they shall be My people.’” (2 Corinthians 6:16 NASB)
The Spirit that once hovered over the mercy seat now hovers over your ribcage. The Word that once thundered from Sinai now whispers from within your heart. The Breath that raised Jesus from the grave now flows through your lungs. This isn’t poetry. This is architecture. You are His dwelling place now. And that truth should shake the soul.
Hebrews 12:28–29 declares, “Therefore, since we receive a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let’s show gratitude, by which we may offer to God an acceptable service with reverence and awe; for our God is a consuming fire.” Reverence and awe are the only acceptable responses. Anything less is a mockery of the Presence.
The modern church has reduced God to a friend, a buddy, a cosmic therapist. But the new creation must rediscover what Israel learned at the foot of Sinai: the Presence is not safe. It is not manageable. It is holy. It is weighty. It is not to be worn like a T-shirt or plastered on a bumper sticker. It is to be hosted with fear and trembling.
Philippians 2:12 exhorts the reborn to “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.” Not because it is fragile, but because it is sacred. The reborn are not juggling emotions—they are carrying glory. Not symbolic glory—actual Presence. The same Spirit that descended on Jesus like a dove now rests upon those who bear His name in truth.
This is why sin is such a violation for the new creation—not because of legalism, but because of hosting. The temple cannot be desecrated without consequence. The vessel cannot be divided without collapse. The same hand that holds miracles cannot also reach for idols. The same mouth that speaks in tongues cannot curse a brother (James 3:9–10). The vessel is not a dual residence. It is the throne room of the Most High.
To walk as the living ark is to carry the awe of Moses before the burning bush. To remove your shoes because the ground itself has changed under your feet. It is to live in such alignment that everything you touch becomes consecrated, everything you speak becomes warfare, and everything you breathe becomes a carrier of divine life.
You are not just filled with the Spirit. You are the container. You are the carrier. You are the collision point between heaven and earth. You are the threshold where divine presence spills into fallen creation. When you walk into a room, the atmosphere should shift—not because of who you are, but because of Who is in you.
Isaiah trembled when he saw the throne. Ezekiel fell on his face. John collapsed like a dead man. And yet the Presence that caused them to tremble now lives in you. Do you feel the weight of that? You should. Because the weight is the glory. And the glory is not light.
The Hebrew word for glory—kabod—means “weight,” “heaviness,” “substance.” The new creation is not a feather blown by spiritual winds. It is a pillar of divine mass. A walking monument to the reality of the Most High. The sons of the fullness are not emotional enthusiasts—they are thunder in human form. Glory (kavod) is the weighty, tangible presence of God that rests in authority (Kaf), dwells among His people (Bet), connects heaven and earth (Vav), and becomes the doorway of access to Him (Dalet). It is not abstract—glory is substance. It brings heaviness in a spiritual sense because it carries God’s essence into physical reality. Glory is literally Devine Power.
This is not about earning holiness—it’s about reverencing what you now carry. The blood of Christ cleansed you. The Spirit filled you. The Word defined you. And now you host the Godhead. You are not your own (1 Corinthians 6:19). You were bought. And now you are inhabited.
The analogy is chilling: if the priests of old had to purify themselves before entering the holy place, how much more should the reborn walk in purity, knowing the holy place is now inside them? They didn’t just visit the temple. They became the temple. The veil was torn, and the new creation was formed behind it.
This is the terror of the holy. Not fear of punishment. Fear of dishonor. Fear of treating casually what is weighty. Fear of leaking glory through compromise. The new creation doesn’t live trying to avoid hell—it lives trying to be a worthy vessel of the flame it already carries.
The world doesn’t need louder Christians. It needs sons and daughters who walk with fire in their bones and silence in their ego. Who don’t need to be seen, but need to be clean. Who understand that the Presence is not a feeling—it is a Person. And He is watching from within.
So walk differently. Speak differently. Think differently. Not out of performance, but out of presence. You are the ark now. And He who sits enthroned above the cherubim now rides upon your life.
Let every word be worthy of His echo.
Let every breath honor His residence.
Let every movement reflect the One you carry.
Because the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.
And hosting the Lord is the beginning of glory.
