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22 December 2017

Home for Christmas

Home. The word itself evokes vivid associations, timeless clichés, and artistic expressions. Yet home—the real thing—always outpaces those associations, clichés, and artistic expressions. "Home is where the heart is," is easy to say, but home is even where the heart is not yet. "Home is where the Internet automatically connects," is true, but home is also where Google's algorithms eerily know that we are considering a new refrigerator purchase. Home is where we hang our favorite photos, but home is also where we realize that we have virtually stopped hanging anything on any wall because it usually means having to repaint before the next move. Home is a mixed bag; sometimes, a mixed drink.

More than a house, or an apartment, or a room in which we might temporarily stay; home is Shellie. Home is counting five coats that never get hung-up in the closet after school—even if two of those five coats now lie on the floors of college dorms. Home is discussing the sermon at Sunday dinner. Home is falling asleep watching the game that I have been anticipating all week. Home goes with us everywhere we happen to be. Those who have never moved, or rarely moved, don't know this rather liberating truth—home is not a place at all.

This year, as in several other years of our journey, we have a new mailing address. Our neighbors are nice, but all their names have melded together. Our house needs a lot of TLC and is not exactly comfortable yet. Our dog barks at a whole new stream of stimulation. Our toes have been stubbed while midnight-searching for the bathroom in this new-to-us labyrinth. But home is more than where we live.

People often ask if we actually like to move; if we prefer not to "put down roots." But in reality, it is exactly the opposite. We want nothing nearly as much! Always we have tried to put down roots, wherever we have gone. But we have given up to God the prerogative of deciding where we receive our mail, and as such, "putting down roots" has not been our lot. Not yet at least. We would love to live long enough in one place, for instance, to find "our spot" to go to on date nights where everything on the menu becomes a favorite. However, as it now stands, we have learned to recognize and sometimes appreciate the steady tension within the concept of "home" that keeps our sails full. Through it all, we find an enduring connection with the patriarchs who, though they lived a nomadic life marked out by tent-stakes, were nevertheless, "looking forward to a city that has foundations whose designer and builder is God" (Hebrews 11:10).

But with all this inconclusive talk of home, our conversation turns to worship at the Incarnation. Jesus knew the subject of home comprehensively, perfectly, and eternally. Yet, He came to our neighborhood, so to speak, where He was never welcome (John 1:11). Although He was owner of it all, He had no home among us—not even a place to lay His head (Matthew 8:20). He left His home in order to open a way home for those who would believe/receive Him (John 1:12). Jesus knew more about home than any of us because He knew home to be primarily a nexus of relationships. In that way He was uniquely free to surrender home without losing home because His relationships with the Father and the Spirit were still intact. In fact, Jesus expanded home; He brought it with Him. We offered Him no room at the inn, but He offered us His kingdom; He offered us Himself. Jesus truly is our home. Home came here to bring us home.




1 comment:

Dr. John said...

Fabulous. Glad to see you "blogging" again. This was very well constructed and heartfelt. It spoke to me/ Keep it up and share with the congregation at G&T