Broader As It Rises

God measures a house by how much wider it gets with each level, not by how high it rises, and what widens is shared, not controlled. A monument is tall and narrow and points to one man, while a family widens. The Hebrew word for “generation” pictures a pile spreading out at its base, so the question is not how much we accomplished but how much wider the pile is because we were in it. Ezekiel and Solomon both built the temple this way: each floor wider than the one below, resting on a ledge in the wall, supported but never fastened in. The wall stepped back so the room above could gain, and that is what a father does, making himself less so the next level can be more. The promise passed from one son to Isaac to Jacob to a whole nation of brothers, each blessed differently and each a custodian rather than an owner, with a blessing mighty beyond the blessings of the parents. When one generation fails to hand down what it received, the next must start over, so we tell the coming generations the deeds of the Lord, and we enlarge the tent by faith before the children come. We exist to propel those after us further, and the question is: who are you making room for? The Lord has made room for us, and we will flourish.