Tommy Tenney - Open Heaven: The Secret Power of a Door Keeper

Copyright 2012Tommy Tenney

All rights reserved. This book is protected by the copyright laws of the United States of America. This book may not be copied or reprinted for commercial gain or profit. The use of short quotations or occasional page copying for personal or group study is permitted and encouraged. Permission will be granted upon request. Unless otherwise identified, Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version. Scripture quotations marked NKJV are taken from the New King James Version. Copyright 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION, Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved. Scripture quotations marked AMP are taken from the Amplified Bible, Copyright 1954, 1958, 1962, 1964, 1965, 1987 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. Please note that Destiny Images publishing style capitalizes certain pronouns in Scripture that refer to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and may differ from some publishers styles. Take note that the name satan and related names are not capitalized. We choose not to acknowledge him, even to the point of violating grammatical rules.

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Previous ISBN: 978-0768422122

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I DIDNT REALIZE THAT GOD had a favorite house until the summer I took my family on a heritage tour of my childhood home. We had to go to my hometown of West Monroe, Louisiana to see my grandfather anyway. Since we were already in town, on one hot Louisiana afternoon I piled my family into our van for a tour of the neighborhood and the house where I grew up.

Some people would say that there isnt much to West Monroe, but it is special to me because it was home. We lived in a white clapboard house at 114 Slack Street. The huge magnolia tree at one end of the front yard is still there (they are the best climbing trees for little boys) but the pin oak tree at the other end is long gone (those are not so good for climbing). Every street corner seemed to hold another poignant memory that I just had to share with my fascinated family as we drove past. I pointed out the place where their daddy went to school and described everything that happened along our tour route (completely oblivious to the barely stifled yawns from my audience).

When we pulled up in front of the house, I pointed out the ditch where the neighborhood bully, Clint, and I got in a fight after he called my sister a bad name. At the time it seemed like a battle of biblical proportions, but the short version of it is that I punched Clint in the nose and he punched me in the stomach, and we both went home crying.

I loved the house where I lived and grew up, and I naturally assumed that my children would love it too. It was obvious to me that no one was home that afternoon, but in north Louisiana towns we share a close camaraderie and an unwritten code that makes room for heritage tours. I dont know who owns the home now, but I didnt really think anybody would be upset if the Tenney crew toured their former estate.

I HAD POWERFUL MEMORIES FROM MY FAVORITE HOUSE

The grand tour began in the front yard (with enough stories about the front yard to take up a good 30 minutes). I had many nostalgic memories about what happened at my favorite house at 114 Slack Street, and I wanted my children to have their own sense of heritage and historical connection to that house.

We slowly worked our way around the house while I pointed out the most important historical sites and reminisced about life in paradise. As we passed through the gate by the back porch, I told my children about the time the dog bit the delivery man. I had never seen a delivery man dance so skillfully with packages in his arms. My dog wasnt really a big dog, but he supplied just enough inspiration to motivate that man to do an award-winning high-step all the way across that backyard. Personally, I thought it was hilarious, but the delivery man wasnt too happy about it.

MY FAMILY HAD ABANDONED ME

I described the playhouse in the backyard and my homemade tree swing upon which my sister managed to fulfill my mothers prophecy by breaking her arm. I was really beginning to feel good about the tour when, about three-quarters of the way around the house, I looked behind to find that nobody was there. I thought, Well, they found something really interesting, and theyre still awestruck by it. I had just pointed out the grave site where my sister and I buried our pets, so I thought that maybe they were overcome with grief or perhaps entranced by the pansy bed where my mom taught me how to plant flowers.

When I retraced my steps, I realized that my family had abandoned me. I admit that it was the middle of a hot Louisiana day with 95 degrees outside and 100 percent humidity, but didnt they understand that that was a small price to pay to be in paradise? The truth is that they were convinced I was lost in la-la land. They had returned to the van where they had the air conditioner running full tilt. Their faces registered a state of absolute boredom while they argued over what audiotape to listen to while Dad does his little memory trip.

I was offended. No, I was more than offended. I was angry. What is the matter with you guys? I said. Im trying to show you all these things.

Were bored interrupted Andrea, my youngest daughter.

Dad, this house doesnt mean anything to us, chimed in Natasha, my middle daughter.

For a moment, I almost expected to see lightning strike our van. After all, you dont talk about sacred ground that way. It was almost sacrilegious! Then my irreverent oldest daughter said, Dad, the only reason this house means anything to you is because of the memories you have. We dont have any memories connected to that house.

Then it dawned on me that my daughter was right. My family isnt necessarily interested in the house at 114 Slack Street in the same way I am. I can tell them stories about life in that house, but those tales are more than stories to me. They are my life locked in the memories of my favorite house.

WHY DOES GOD WANT TO REBUILD THAT HOUSE?

A few days later I was looking at various verses in my Bible when my attention was drawn to this passage in Acts 15:

After this I will return and will rebuild the tabernacle of David, which has fallen down; I will rebuild its ruins, and I will set it up (Acts 15:16 NKJV).

I thought to myself, I wonder why God wants to rebuild that house? Why wouldnt He want to rebuild Mosess tabernacle in all its originality? After all, that was the first heavenly dwelling place built by earthly hands. Even grander than that, why wouldnt God want to rebuild Solomons temple in all its splendor? Why did God say He wanted to rebuild Davids tabernacle?

In that moment, it was as if I heard the voice of the Lord whisper to me, Because this is My favorite house. What a statement! Why did He say that? I wondered. God seemed to answer from my experience, Because of the memories. I believe that God has some treasured memories of events in that tabernacle that havent happened anywhere else.