Not long ago, I wrote a post about the travel bug. That is definitely a common symptom that pops up in our lives, and a healthy dose of "seeing the world" is certainly great. This week, however, I want to write about home.
What does home mean to someone? A place you retire to when not at work? A place where your family lives? A place where you feel loved and secure? I think in a general sense "home" fits all of these definitions. To me, no matter where you travel or how long or short you are gone, there is nothing like that feeling of arriving at your "home sweet home." For unless you are a true nomad or your living conditions are less than ideal, there will always be somewhere special to which you return.
The word home seems to resonate a sense of peace. That in that place is somewhere you can find joy, comfort, security, love . . . all intangibles that reflect God, meaning He should be the center of the home. I like that phrase: "Christ is the Head of this house, the unseen Guest at every meal, the silent Listener to every conversation."
Since the state of one's physical home can vary, it presents us with the idea that earth is not our final home. We are always traveling as pilgrims to our permanent abode in Heaven. It is a nice thought, is it not? To think of the concept of eternity. Home with all its ups and downs reminds us of this. When home is a place that brings contentment, we want to hold onto that forever. When home brings misunderstandings and frustrations, we want to escape from it. Meaning we all long for that place--for Heaven--where there is no suffering and our peace knows no bounds.
We should thank God every day for our home--somewhere that we have worked for and built up by all our efforts to create a place that you can sit by the hearth and breath a sigh of relief at the end of a long day.