Have you ever wanted to be “anywhere but here?”
I remember once when I somehow got stuck babysitting all my little cousins for a few hours. One of them was from out of town and his parents had brought him to Houston to spend a week with us. He was just peachy all day long as we played around. But when the adults were all gone, as the sun began to set and give way to nightfall, as little tummies started growling for sustenance, my sweet little Abel decided he was going to throw a tantrum of epic proportions.
Let me quickly remind you that I was alone and barely a teenager at this time… tantrums weren’t something I was really equipped to handle. As I made dinner for my precious, little rugrats (Campbell’s soup warmed over the stovetop – fancy, I know), Abel started bawling his little eyes out. For what was he causing all this ruckus? Home.
Abel wanted to be with his parents in the comfort and safety of their home. But instead, the poor kid was stuck with us – for a WEEK. And oh, what a long week it seemed it would be at that time!
Sometimes I have moments like this too. Sometimes I just long for Home. And while I do love being in my earthly home, snuggled into my bed, tucked under my warm blankets, knowing my family is just down the hallway, that’s not the home I’m talking about here.
I’m talking about my Forever Home. I’m talking about that place my Jesus promised He is preparing for me. I’m talking about that place where there is only one way to spend my time:
I’m not good at life-juggling. Prioritizing happens one way in my head and another way in life. The to-do lists never end, they never seem to get shorter. I cross one thing off and suddenly there are five more tasks in its place. Then comes the frustration. Then comes the helplessness. Then comes the end of me.
And in these moments when my heart is overwhelmed by how short I fall, how unable I am, the only words I can seem to find are these:
Oh, Lord. I want to be Home.
My soul longs for Home in these moments when I simply cannot take another step further. My soul longs for Home in these moments when I feel I’m simply not “cut out” for radical, Jesus-loving, Jesus-reflecting living. My soul longs for Home when I see that I have become so distracted by the good, yet temporary things of this life. My soul longs for Home when I realize that I’m actually terrible at this whole “living for Him” thing.
I want my soul to always long for Home – not just when things are hard or complicated or stressful, not just when I wish I was “anywhere but here,” not just as an escape from the reality of this world and this life He has gifted me with. I want my soul to long for Home always.
How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord of hosts! My soul longs, yes, faints for the courts of the Lord; my heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God. Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at your altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God. | Psalm 84:1-3
Even the sparrow, even the swallow.
And if them, why not me?
If the birds of the air can find rest and a dwelling place in Him, how much more can I, whom He foreknew before the creation of the world?
Christ suffered such incomprehensible agony of body and mind for me. He did this willingly, joyfully for the sole purpose of reconciling my heart with the heart of the Father. How much more can I, whom Christ suffered for, find a rest, a dwelling place at His altars, at His feet.
Yes, my soul longs for Home. Not always, no. But praise God that I long for Home more now than before. That is the evidence of His work in my life. That is His transforming power manifested in this mortal body, in this decaying flesh.
Just as my little Abel longed for his home all those years ago, just as he longed for his parents’ embrace, I too, long for my Father’s hugs. I too, long for His protection and the security found in His arms – His arms that are not too big to hold me, His arms that are not too strong to embrace me.
In that little apartment filled with all my little rugrats, Abel flailed his arms and cried his lungs out to no avail. All that crying didn’t make his parents suddenly appear to take him home. In my room, buried under the blankets, all my crying and weeping will not make God press pause on HIS plans for me. He has gifted me this life. He has gifted me these opportunities for growth. He desires to stretch me, for His glory. And His plans are better – BEST.
So until He calls me to my Forever Home with Him, I will make my home at His feet.
For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland… 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. | Hebrews 11:14, 16
Sweet Jesus, precious Savior, may my knees fail, may my shoulders fall, may my face be brought low, leaving only feeble, outstretched hands as I make my home at Your pierced feet, as I make Your altars my dwelling place. And in the meantime, Lord, prepare my heart for Home.