THE GOD WHO COMES TO VISIT
There are moments in Scripture when heaven seems to lean down and touch the earth — when the eternal folds His robe and steps quietly into the dust of man. Such a moment came to Abraham beneath the oaks of Mamre. The day was hot, the air still, and the faithful patriarch sat at the door of his tent. He looked up and saw three men standing nearby (Genesis 18:1–15). Without waiting for explanation, Abraham ran to meet them, bowed to the ground, and spoke as one who knew that God Himself was near.
The scene is simple yet sacred. A tent, a meal, a promise. The Lord disguised His glory in human form, showing that grace often enters softly, not with thunder, but with tenderness. “Is anything too hard for the Lord?” was His question to Sarah when she laughed at the thought of bearing a child in her old age. And still He asks the same of us when our faith trembles at the edge of impossibility.
In that moment under the trees, Abraham learned that God is the visitor who still comes — not merely to announce blessings, but to sit down at our table and share our bread. His presence transforms the ordinary into the holy. What we think is common ground becomes the threshold of heaven.
The Word and the Child
It began with a promise: “Sarah your wife shall have a son.” Centuries later another promise came — one even greater. “Now the birth of Jesus Christ was as follows…” (Matthew 1:18). In Abraham’s tent, the Lord foretold a miracle of life from a barren womb. In Nazareth, the angel foretold life from a virgin womb. The pattern is divine — grace brings forth what nature cannot.
“All things were made through Him,” John wrote, “and without Him nothing was made that was made” (John 1:3). That same creative Word who spoke worlds into being formed Isaac in Sarah’s womb, and in the fullness of time, He Himself took flesh in Mary’s. The Maker entered His own creation, the Guest became the Host, and heaven visited earth again.
Those who receive Him are changed forever. “But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God” (John 1:12). Abraham believed the promise and became the father of many nations. We believe the greater promise and become children of grace.
The House of Prayer
Jesus once entered the temple and overturned the tables of the money changers, saying, “It is written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer,’ but you have made it a den of thieves” (Matthew 21:13). In that moment, He did in Jerusalem what He had done long ago in Mamre — He purified the place of meeting. God’s presence demands holiness. The tent of Abraham, the temple of Solomon, and the heart of every disciple must all be cleansed for the Lord to dwell there.
The same Christ who visited Abraham now visits the heart of the believer. He finds the clutter of pride and the noise of greed and begins to turn over our tables. He calls us to prayer, to simplicity, to purity. “Therefore, having these promises, beloved,” Paul writes, “let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God” (2 Corinthians 7:1).
The Gift Beyond Words
The God who visited Abraham still gives beyond measure. “Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!” (2 Corinthians 9:15). That gift is not merely the blessings of life, but Life Himself — Jesus, the Son of God, born of Mary, crucified for sinners, risen in glory.
“The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul” (Psalm 19:7). It points us to our need for this gift. The law cannot save, but it drives us to the Savior. Deuteronomy warns, “You shall not add to the word which I command you, nor take from it” (Deuteronomy 4:2). The gospel stands pure, needing no polish from man’s hands. Salvation is not for sale in the marketplace of religion; it is freely given to those who bow in faith at the feet of the Redeemer.
When Heaven Opens
Jesus told Nathanael, “Hereafter you shall see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man” (John 1:51). It is the ladder Jacob dreamed of, now fulfilled in Christ. He is the bridge between heaven and earth, between the promise to Abraham and the mercy that reached us.
Christ said of his calling of Saul of Tarsus: “I will show him how many things he must suffer for My name’s sake” (Acts 9:16). To walk with God is to share both His burden and His blessing. The true disciple knows that glory and suffering often walk hand in hand.
But how comforting to know that every step is watched by a Shepherd who reigns forever. “David My servant shall be king over them, and they shall all have one shepherd” (Ezekiel 37:24). This King is Jesus — the greater David, the eternal Shepherd, the Lord our Righteousness (Jeremiah 23:6).
The Folly of Self-Trust
Luke tells us that Jesus spoke a parable “to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous” (Luke 18:9). That spirit of self-trust is still the ruin of many. “Take heed and beware of covetousness,” He warned, “for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of the things he possesses” (Luke 12:15). The wicked “shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God” (Psalm 9:17).
The world still bows before its golden calves, still judges righteousness by wealth and influence. But Jesus turns our eyes heavenward. Micah prophesied, “It shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established on top of the mountains” (Micah 4:1). True greatness is not found in the towers of men but in the humble hearts that wait upon the Lord.
Those Who Wait Upon the Lord
Isaiah’s words ring across the centuries: “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength” (Isaiah 40:31). Abraham waited long — twenty-five years from promise to fulfillment — yet he never stopped believing. The waiting heart is the worshiping heart. Waiting is not idleness; it is faith at rest.
And those who wait find that grace has wings. “They shall mount up with wings like eagles.” The storm that breaks others lifts them higher. The same Spirit who hovered over Abraham’s tent now hovers over our lives, whispering, “Is anything too hard for the Lord?”
The House Not Made With Hands
When Jesus cleansed the temple, He was pointing to something deeper — the coming kingdom, built not of stone but of souls. The prophets foresaw it: “In the last days…the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established.” This is the Church, the bride, the living body of Christ.
We look forward to the day when “Judah will be saved and Israel will dwell safely” (Jeremiah 23:6), when there will be “one King and one Shepherd” (Ezekiel 37:24). Until then, our tents remain in the wilderness, but our hearts belong to the city whose builder and maker is God.
The Visitor Still Comes
Abraham’s story is our story. He entertained angels unaware; we entertain the Spirit who dwells within. The Lord who dined beneath Mamre’s trees now knocks at the door of every heart. “Behold, I stand at the door and knock,” He says. “If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him.”
He still visits the humble. He still speaks promises into barren hearts. He still turns laughter of disbelief into laughter of joy.
And one day, when the final tent is folded and the journey is done, we shall look up and see not three travelers in the heat of the day, but the King Himself coming in glory — the same Lord who once sat at Abraham’s table and who now invites us to His eternal feast.
O Lord, who visited Abraham in the quiet of the day and Mary in the stillness of the night, visit me also. Let my heart be a tent where You find welcome and rest. Cleanse the cluttered corners of pride and self-reliance. Teach me to wait upon You until my faith becomes sight. Remind me that You are the promise and the fulfillment, the Giver and the Gift, the Guest and the King. In Your mercy, Lord Jesus, sit with me today, and may Your presence turn the ordinary moments of this life into holy ground.
Amen.
Bryan Dewayne Dunaway
