Holy Neighboring | Make Your Mark
Then the Lord appeared to Abram and said, “To your offspring I will give this land.” So he built there an altar to the Lord, who had appeared to him.
GENESIS 12:7
It is natural for us to want to leave our mark. The child doodling on the wall is leaving her mark. The adolescent writing his name on the sidewalk with chalk is leaving his mark. The teenage boy in “love” is leaving his mark when he carves his and his lover’s name into the tree in his backyard. It’s natural for us to want to leave impressions on others like our God placed His impression on us. We want to leave a mark of ourselves.
Noah left a mark, but of a different kind. He spent 120 years building an ark God told him to make. His obedience left a mark: He came to be a hero of faith (Hebrews 7:11). And his ark also made a mark: We wouldn’t have humans and animals without it. His ark saved his family and the animals. They could make a mark because of his (m)ark. Noah left a mark of others.
Abraham’s mark was different still. The Lord called Abraham, and Abraham moved as the Lord dictated. He moved his family hundreds of miles, by foot, throughout his lifetime. From Ur to Haran, Haran to Canaan, then to Negev, then Egypt, then Gerar, then Hebron, Mount Moriah, and then back to Hebron. Wherever Abraham was told to go, he went. And wherever he went, he built an altar.
He built altars to offer sacrifices to the Lord. But we must understand that these altars were not only tables for sacrifices; they also served as symbols to commemorate what God had done. They were monuments. They served as pointers to God’s activity. It was as if everywhere he went, Abraham left a permanent announcement: “God was here!” “God did something!” He left a mark for others.
The “cultural mandate” is used to refer to God’s command to human beings to take care of creation and make stuff. It was given to Adam and Eve Genesis 1:26-31; 2:15). Though we are no longer in the garden, and sin has entered the equation, the cultural mandate is not rendered obsolete, though. God still wants us to make hammers, paint, and clean our floors. To organize, adorn, and advance what he’s made.
The lives of Noah and Abraham call into question the nature of our production, though. We make things, and that’s good. But do we mark creation with symbols that point explicitly to God and His redemptive acts? We make automobiles, but these automobiles aren’t altars. We make useful and beautiful things, but when do we make religious things? Do we leave markers that lead others to say, “surely the living God was here?”
With whatever we make, or with anything we make, do we point to God, our Original and Greatest Neighbor—the one who draws near and appears? Do we create places for Him who made the greatest amount of space for us? Are the artifacts we make not only excellent and useful, but symbols that say, “Jesus Christ did something here?” Are our productions places of praise like they were for Abraham?
Loving our Original and Greatest Neighbor means remembering Him, acknowledging Him, and leaving a tangible commemoration for others to see His works. Making artifacts that are altars is loving Him. As is drawing attention to His presence and activity in the world. Make altars. Write devotional poems. Write songs infused with Bible verses. Paint the cross on a canvass. Carve ichthus into the hammer handle. Leave a mark for Him.
Loving our human neighbors is giving them reasons to believe that the Lord could appear to them at any time. It’s also reminding them that they live in His world. We do this by leaving altars around that point to His deeds. We need to not only make great things but things that point to saving grace. For in both we are participating in the triune God’s project of knitting creation back together in communion.
