(or why we should live like this world is not home)
Home is my favorite four-letter word. You heard me. It’s a word I say for the shock of it. A word to describe a feeling I don’t have other words for. Home. Because here’s the secret: home is a place I’ve never been. And I’ll bet something crazy you haven’t been there either.
But wait! I’ve been home, you say. I’ve been in a place with love and laughter, or at least in a place with a sticky kitchen table and scratches on the floor. Oh yes, I’ve been there too.
I don’t know when it was exactly, but sometime in the last year or so, home stopped feeling exactly like it. Maybe it was the shake-up of moving across the country, back again, and then across the other way. Or it could have been the flare-up of health problems that guillotined my normal. Either way, home as I used to know it is now like my favorite fleece that got “borrowed” from a campus dryer. It’s gone.
And I couldn’t be happier about it.
.As a creature drawn to comfort, I naturally want home to taste like candy. It’s sweet, it’s here, it’s now… Pop the idea in your mouth for a moment. Home. Roll it around… what do you taste? I know what I taste:
Nothing quite beats the shock and wonder of realizing the “home” I’m tasting isn’t the real thing at all.
Home on earth is like grape candy – whether you’ve loved it or not, it would be crazy to call the flavor better than the fruit. Home here can be sweet or bitter. At its core, it’s a beautiful thing, a place we were made to want. But home on earth isn’t meant to satisfy.
That’s why I couldn’t be happier that my comfort-candy search for home here on earth has ended in the after-taste of disappointment. Disappointment makes room for better hope.
Disappointment makes room for better hope.
.Here’s the better hope:
But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.
We can stop rummaging for the perfect satisfaction of home here on earth because there’s a promise of something greater: our home after earth. Our God is preparing a city.
If this is true, it means something radical. Something as radical as sacrificing our comfort. Radical as doing hard, faithful work without always seeing a here-right-now reward. Radical as laying aside our preferences and entitlements because there’s something greater. So hard, but so good.
Are you willing to sacrifice comfort right now for the hope of something greater?