Wednesday, November 10, 2010
I'm headed back to Virginia tonight. For four days, I will not think about my future or my past or any of the stresses that seem to weigh on me every day I'm out here. Instead, I'll hug my brothers and kiss my dad and snuggle on the couch with my mom. I'll eat barbecue and drink sweet tea and watch lots of football.
Of course, I know that when I fly back to Seattle on Monday morning, my heart will be aching and my head will be spinning with thoughts of home, and I'll still be wondering if I'll ever find my place in the world.
So what is it about home that means so much to me? I've written about this before.. but it's something I've been thinking about a lot over the past year.
I've always envied those people who've lived in the same place their whole lives. Who have all of their family in one place. Whose friends have known them since they were babies, because they're the children of parents whose friends have known them since they were babies, and so on, and so on..
But then I look at Jesus, who was essentially homeless, who was rejected by his hometown, who in Matthew 10 tells me that if I love my mother and father more than I love him, I'm not worthy of being his.
That's a hard pill to swallow.
Isn't this the same guy who just one chapter later says "Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest for your soul."
I've been stuck on these passages for a few days now, trying to sort this all out.
This is what I've got so far: I think Jesus wants to be our home, our comfort, our family. And that home can be anywhere, because he is everywhere. Not only that, but he also calls us to love others like family, to open our hearts and lay down roots with everyone, not just those we've known since birth.
Does that mean I won't cry when I step off the plane tomorrow morning and see my brothers and parents and grandparents waiting for me? Absolutely not. My family is a blessing that I've learned not to take for granted. But I'm also learning that family is not my God. So when I fly west again on Monday, maybe I'll be able to hold back the tears and trust that in Christ, home comes with me wherever I go.