Exodus 25:8 “They are to make me a sanctuary, so that I may live among them. 9 You are to make it according to everything I show you — the design of the tabernacle and the design of its furnishings. This is how you are to make it.”
There's a question that sits quietly under a lot of our spiritual lives, usually unasked because the answer feels too obvious to need saying: if God is everywhere, hears everything, and is available the instant we call on Him, why did He ever need a house?
I’d argue that this drives deep into what it means to be in relationship.
For most of the people in our lives, relationships exist through communication. Talking, sharing ideas, strategizing, arguing, texting, ignoring, and so on. But, even though the bulk of our relationships can be maintained in this way, communication alone does not imply intimacy.
A husband and wife may speak by phone from opposite sides of the world. Their voices are real. Their relationship remains real. They may express love, exchange information, and even comfort one another. But neither would pretend that a phone call is the fullness of marital presence.
Eventually, both husband and wife must converge in physical space.
The same is true for us and Abba.
Now, most people think that keeping an open line of communication is the ultimate goal in a relationship. Obviously, good communication is critical in marriage and equally necessary in our relationship with Abba. Ideally, we always seek to be in a state of prayer. Even Paul instructs us in 1 Thessalonians 5:17 to “pray without ceasing“.
But is continual communication the ultimate goal? No. Intimacy is.
So what is intimacy? A working definition would be something like this: Biblical intimacy is covenantal nearness in which two persons are increasingly known and revealed to one another through faithfulness, trust, shared life, and unashamed presence.
Several Biblical ideas build this definition:
If we look back to Eden, we see this idea open up in great detail.
Intimacy: known + uncovered + unashamed + covenantally joined.
Broken intimacy: hiding + covering + fear + blame + separation.
The New Testament continues the same theme with γινώσκω ginōskō, “to know.” Yeshua says, “I know my own, and my own know me” (John 10:14), then compares that knowing with the relationship between Himself and the Father. And John 17:3 describes eternal life in terms of knowing the Father and Yeshua. Again, salvation is presented as far more than knowing correct facts about God.
I would hesitate to define intimacy merely as “both people being fully known.” Biblically, that is part of it, but there is more. A person can be exposed without being intimate. Interrogation exposes. Pornography exposes. Gossip exposes. None of those are intimacy.
The missing Biblical ingredients are covenant, fidelity, safety, willing revelation, and shared presence.
This would sharpen our initial definition to: Intimacy is the covenantally protected place where two persons willingly draw near, increasingly reveal themselves, truly know one another, and remain faithful to one another without hiding or shame.
And with Abba there is an interesting asymmetry. He already knows us completely. Intimacy with YHVH therefore does not begin when He learns who we are. It deepens as we willingly stop hiding from Him and as He reveals Himself so that we come to truly know Him.
That is where the Tabernacle becomes incredibly powerful. Exodus 25:22 does not say merely, “There I will observe you.” It says:
“There I will meet with you.”
But isn’t He everywhere already?
Omnipresence does not mean that every person experiences YHVH’s presence in the same way. It means there is nowhere in creation outside His reach, knowledge, power, or sustaining presence.
Translation: There is nothing hidden from God.
Ask any believer and they will be quick to tell you that God is literally everywhere. But that statement can easily provoke the unbelieving hearer into questioning the goodness of God. If He is everywhere, why is there suffering? Why is there evil? Why is there division among the believers themselves?
Almost all rebukes unbelievers use fall within one of these veins. And if you press a believer on this point, they are quickly met with some unanswerable questions.
Why doesn’t He stop the human trafficker?
Why doesn’t He confront the atheist?
Why doesn’t He have the drug dealer arrested?
Why doesn’t He handcuff the hand of an abusive father?
Why doesn't He cause your computer to melt when you stray into darkness?
These questions are difficult to navigate. Worse still, the argument that a loving God sits idly by and watches this happen is difficult for an unbeliever to swallow. It should be even more difficult for the believer themself.
Now, chasing this thread on the side of evil is beyond the scope of our topic here. The problem of evil deserves far more attention than we can give it here. For our purposes, the important point is simpler: YHVH’s universal presence and awareness cannot be treated as though they were identical to covenantal intimacy. So let’s turn the question back toward the believer.
One thing we all need to understand is that divine awareness is not the same as intimacy.
YHVH sees the righteous and the wicked. He sees worship, rebellion, compassion, abuse, faithfulness, and betrayal. Yet His awareness of every person does not mean that every person enjoys the same relationship with Him. Being seen by YHVH is not the same as knowing Him. Being sustained by His power is not the same as living in covenant with Him. And being able to speak to Him is not the same as entering deeply into His presence.
He sees the human trafficker -- but that does not imply a relationship.
He sees the atheist -- but that does not imply a relationship.
He sees the drug dealer -- but that does not imply a relationship.
He sees the abusive father -- but that does not imply a relationship.
He sees you at your computer -- but that does not imply a relationship.
He sees you at church -- but that does not imply a relationship.
The fact that He knows everything and sees everything does not mean He is intimate with each and every person on earth.
A person can be physically present in a room while remaining relationally distant. A spouse may sit beside the other while withholding the heart. A father may live in the same house as his children while barely being known by them.
Likewise, YHVH’s knowledge of us does not automatically mean that we know Him deeply.
Intimacy requires a growing willingness to be known and to know the other.
He already sees the hidden heart, which means the Tabernacle was not built to allow Him to see us more clearly. It was built for us to stop hiding and stand consciously before the One who has always seen us.
Presence…in the most intimate form.
A spouse who says, “We speak consistently throughout the day, so we do not need private time together,” has misunderstood intimacy. Frequent communication can sustain connection, but it cannot replace deliberate presence.
Intimacy is a deliberate act, not a default state. And that deliberate act consists of a progressive build-up.
Notice the order of events that have brought us to the design of the Tabernacle:
Exodus 20-23: the covenant terms are given.
Exodus 24: Israel agrees.
Blood confirms the covenant.
A covenant meal is shared.
Moses goes up the mountain.
Exodus 25: YHVH gives the design for the dwelling.
This order matters.
YHVH does not first move into a house and then casually decide what the relationship will be. Covenant establishes the relationship; then the sanctuary becomes the shared dwelling of that covenant.
This really does make sense.
After a wedding, husband and wife do not normally return to separate lives as though nothing changed. Covenant creates a new household. So the Tabernacle is not primarily the architecture of religion. It is the architecture of covenantal nearness.
We aren’t merely seeking visitation. We are seeking habitation.
But too often people want YHVH to visit their lives without allowing Him to establish the order of His house. We want Him to come to ours instead.
The Tabernacle flips this on its head.
In fact, if we follow the instructions given to Moses in Exodus, we see that Abba structures things from the inside out, whereas we see things from the outside in. The incense altar and laver will be described later, but the initial construction sequence unmistakably begins at the covenantal center and works outward.
Ark.
Ark cover.
Table.
Menorah.
Inner coverings.
Structure.
Veils and screens.
Bronze altar.
Courtyard.
Gate.
This House is designed from the center outward, even though a person experiences it from the outside inward. Abba begins with the place where He wants us to arrive, and this is why there is such tremendous beauty on the interior.
Coming in from the outside, there is a serious progression that takes place. In general, the further one moved inward, the more gold, fine workmanship, and ornate beauty dominated the space. This runs in the opposite direction to what the world does.
The world decorates the exterior and keeps the interior carefully locked away. Public image appearance, reputation, possessions, platforms, and social approval always seem to take center stage in nearly everyone’s lives.
But YHVH places the greatest glory in the hidden place.
The world teaches us to make the outside impressive enough that no one asks what is inside. But Abba builds from the inside out.
This is best seen in the context of marriage.
The most meaningful dimensions of a marriage are not for public display. A couple may hold a beautiful wedding, maintain a beautiful home, and project a beautiful image while the inner chamber is cold, neglected, or defiled.
The question of intimacy is this: What does the hidden place look like when no one else is watching?
This is where we learn the truth about ourselves and our relationship with our spouse. And it seems to take a lifetime for us to fully lower our guard.
Or we don’t.
All too often we drift into a state of mutual existence and seldom push into the deeper recesses of our relationship. Although we still dwell with one another in the same home and there is likely some measure of peace, couples who have been together for many years can find themselves locked into an uncomfortable connectedness. You may enjoy one another’s company and you may in fact do a lot of things together. But that push to the deeper place is nearly (if not totally) missing.
Now, this isn’t just about having a sexual encounter, but that most certainly is a telling point for a lot of couples. Physical intimacy is certainly not the whole of marital intimacy, but it can be one revealing indicator of the relationship beneath it. When the deeper connection is chronically neglected, couples may gradually resign themselves to distance, grow resentful, or become increasingly vulnerable to seeking connection outside the covenant. None of those outcomes should be treated as inevitable, but neither should persistent distance be ignored. The idea that only young or newly married couples share in an exciting physical exchange is widely accepted, but poorly questioned.
Much like our relationship with Abba.
There is often an unmistakable excitement in a new believer -- an eagerness to learn, a zeal to worship, and a boldness to ask questions. Yet something strange can happen with time: familiarity begins to replace pursuit, and what once felt alive gradually becomes routine.
Shouldn’t this bother you? It sure bothers me.
What do you think the root cause of this decay truly is? I’d argue that it comes from us being comfortable with merely talking with God. We pray, and pray some more, which is absolutely necessary. But we rarely get those moments where we are immersed in His presence. Perhaps at a conference or during a special worship session, but not on a set schedule. It seems to be almost random. Much like those deep and sweet moments with your spouse.
But what if YHVH has already given us a pattern for resisting that drift -- a way of deliberately returning again and again to the place of pursuit?
It is important that husbands and wives date one another. Not just go on dates, but enter back into that inquisitive period of learning all you can about the other person.
You may recall the times when there were countless late nights on the phone, endless flirty texts, and a strong desire to just see the other person. Your entire day was filled with thoughts of only them and it seemed the rest of your life would simply have to take a backseat to the priority that now filled your heart. And when the two of you came together there was a joy and giddiness that was difficult to explain.
This is what dating feels like for a lot of people. This is also what many new believers experience as well.
Praying and talking with Abba was new but exciting. Digging into His Word and listening to teachings and insights seemed to fill your time. But greatest of all was when you had those moments of deep worship because it felt as if His Spirit was literally there with you.
Now perhaps you never had experiences like this. Your journey into your relationship may have been down a different path and that’s ok. You can obviously still be deeply committed to your spouse and/or Abba without the dramatic backstory.
But what if that intentional pursuit did not have to belong only to the beginning of the relationship? What if husband and wife continued preparing for one another, pursuing one another, and discovering one another long after the novelty had faded?
Imagine your spouse prepared the marriage chamber by clearing out any and all clutter, clothes were put away, new furnishings and fresh lighting were installed, and the finest fabrics covered the bed. Gold accents were all over the room and the aroma was the most inviting you’ve ever experienced. And best of all, your spouse did this all for you. Then your spouse waits for your arrival, and when you finally enter, their full attention is on you.
How excited would you be to come into this place?
Hold that image in your mind, because something remarkably similar is revealed in the design of the Tabernacle.
The Tabernacle can be understood through the familiar architecture of a home. (Or maybe it’s the other way around?)
You have a fenced yard with a front gate, an interior dwelling place, and within that dwelling is a set-apart room reserved for the deepest union of husband and wife.
While these details are not the case for every home on the earth, some variant does apply to a large portion of the population. So you may not have a fenced courtyard with a gate, but you very well may have an interior dwelling place with a set-apart room for the husband and wife.
The layers of the Tabernacle serve very distinct purposes:
Outside the fence and gate you find the world. It’s where you work, shop, play, visit, etc. Anyone is legally allowed to occupy this space and you likely have little authority to tell people what to do.
The same is true of the Tabernacle. Outside the gate is the common world. There is nothing necessarily wrong with working, buying, selling, building, or interacting with others there. But the outside is not the place of intimacy. It is where your attention is divided among countless people and responsibilities.
To move toward Abba, you must eventually leave the field and intentionally turn toward His house. You can speak with Him while you work -- just as you can speak with your spouse on the phone from anywhere -- but intimacy requires you to come home.
Coming inside the gate puts you on the grounds of the Tabernacle. This is like the yard around your home. You have the authority to allow visitors and equal authority to ask people to leave.
Crossing the gate changes something. You have moved from common space into a place that has been set apart. Yet you have not reached the house itself.
The courtyard is where what you carried from the outside begins to be dealt with. Sacrifice takes place here, and the laver -- described later in Exodus 30 -- provides the washing required before priestly service deeper within. Before moving deeper, the residue of the field cannot simply be dragged into the dwelling.
This is much like arriving home at the end of a long day. You may be home, but you are not yet prepared for the deepest intimacy the house can offer. There are things to lay down, things to wash away, and a deliberate transition that must occur before going further.
Coming behind the curtain marks another dramatic narrowing of access. In Israel, the Holy Place was not open to every worshipper; priestly service took place there. In the language of our household analogy, this is no longer the yard where invited guests may gather. We have entered the house itself.
The Holy Place moves us beyond preparation and into shared life. Here we find bread, light, and eventually the fragrance of incense -- nourishment, illumination, and prayer.
Think about the progression within a healthy marriage. You come inside, clean yourself up, sit at the table, eat together, talk, listen, and allow the other person to reveal what is within them. This is where intimacy begins to deepen because attention is no longer scattered among everyone outside.
But even this is not the deepest place. Fellowship prepares us for intimacy; it is not intimacy's final destination. Beyond the next veil is a place where almost everything else disappears and only the covenant remains.
This is the one room in the house where guests dare not enter. It seems everyone understands the limits of the hosts’ bedroom and does not casually make their way into that space. The same is true in the Holy of Holies.
Under the Levitical priesthood, access to the Holiest Place was restricted to the high priest on Yom Kippur, and even then only according to the prescribed sacrifices and preparation. Through Yeshua, however, Hebrews describes a radically different access: we are invited to draw near through the new and living way He opened for us.
So the invitation is set, and yet many believers never make the journey into the Holiest Place. Why is that?
Perhaps the greatest barrier to intimacy is not access at all. It is the fear of being known.
True covenantal intimacy requires vulnerability. At some point we must allow another person to move beyond the version of ourselves that we carefully present to the world. The strengths are easy to reveal. The difficult things are the fears, insecurities, wounds, desires, disappointments, failures, and thoughts we would rather keep behind a locked door.
This is why deep intimacy in marriage usually develops slowly. A husband and wife may live together for years while still carefully protecting certain rooms within themselves. They can be faithful, enjoy one another, raise children, travel together, and share a perfectly functional life while quietly agreeing never to venture into the places where either one feels truly exposed. At some point, a couple either continues pushing deeper into knowing and being known, or they settle for peaceful coexistence.
But intimacy cannot continue deepening wherever hiding is continually protected.
The beautiful picture in Eden was not simply that Adam and Eve were naked. It was that they were naked and unashamed. Nothing needed to be concealed because exposure existed inside covenant. After sin, the first instinct was to cover, hide, and withdraw. Shame turned exposure from something safe into something frightening.
We still carry that instinct.
We hide from our spouse because we fear what will happen if they see what is actually there. Will they think less of me? Will they reject me? Will they use this against me later? Will they still desire me once they know everything?
And then we carry the same instinct into our relationship with Abba.
The difference is that hiding from Him is an illusion. He already knows every room we have locked. He knows what is underneath the coverings before we remove them. The invitation into His presence is therefore not an invitation for Him to discover us. It is an invitation for us to stop hiding from the One who already knows us completely.
But intimacy moves in both directions.
Abba knows us, yet we know remarkably little about Him. We know statements about Him. We know doctrines about Him. We know stories about Him. But covenant intimacy invites us deeper -- into His character, His heart, His holiness, His mercy, His grief, His faithfulness, and His love.
The Holiest Place therefore becomes the meeting of two movements: we willingly allow ourselves to be known, and He reveals Himself to us.
That is why the invitation is so extraordinary. The One who already sees everything within you is inviting you into the hidden place so that you can begin seeing His heart as He reveals Himself to you.
And this may explain why YHVH placed the greatest beauty where almost no one could see it.
We normally think beauty is something meant to be displayed. We decorate the places guests will see. We dress carefully when others are watching. We polish the public parts of our lives while allowing the hidden places to receive far less attention.
Intimacy reverses this.
Some of the most beautiful things a husband or wife possesses are not offered to the world at all. They are reserved for one person. Words, expressions, vulnerability, affection, touch, desire, and parts of the heart that no outsider will ever experience are intentionally kept within covenant.
Their hiddenness does not make them less beautiful. It makes them deeply precious.
Contrary to the ways of the world, the deepest beauty is not necessarily what we put on display for others. Some of the most precious beauty is that which covenant reserves for the beloved.
The Tabernacle follows the same pattern. From the outside it was comparatively modest. But the further one moved inward, the more extraordinary the environment became. Fine linen, intricate workmanship, gold, light, fragrance, and the ark itself were hidden from the eyes of the world.
The greatest beauty was not placed where the crowds could admire it.
It was placed where covenant met presence.
The innermost beauty was not designed for the camp to admire. It belonged to the most restricted sphere of covenantal meeting. No crowd applauded. No outsider was impressed. There was no reputation to build and no image to maintain.
There was only the meeting.
Perhaps this is one of the deepest lessons of the Tabernacle. We spend enormous effort making the outside of our lives beautiful enough for everyone else to admire while Abba is drawing our attention to the room no one else sees.
The question is not simply whether your life looks beautiful from outside the fence, but rather what you have prepared is for the One waiting for you inside.
And perhaps that finally answers the question with which we began. YHVH did not need Israel to build Him a house because He lacked somewhere to exist. He gave them the Tabernacle because they needed to learn how to come near. The gate, the sacrifice, the washing, the bread, the light, the veil, and finally the ark all teach the same lesson: there is a difference between knowing that God is everywhere and learning to dwell in His presence.
He had already seen Israel. Now He was inviting Israel to come inside and know Him. He even tells us plainly:
Exodus 25:22 “There I will meet with you.”
So what are you waiting for?