June 25, 2013

when you long for home

"I want to go back to Jude's house", he says as we drive to the grocery store.

He wants to go home.  His sweet little heart longs for a home and stability and it breaks my heart.

It's not that he doesn't have a home. We're just in-between.  Our home is listing for sale tomorrow, and the boys had been staying at my parents as we finished painting and projects and detailed cleaning.

Truly.  I don't know how people get their home ready to sell while kids and pets are in the house.

This time of transition has left my spirit in turmoil.  Emotions I didn't expect rising up as I prepare myself to say goodbye to a house that holds 6 years of memories.  The home my babies were brought into and nursed in and grew in.  Yet, also the home where we complained and grumbled and grew frustrated over our lack of space to cook a meal together, have people for dinner, or host our house church.

The stress of it all makes me want to run.  To say, forget it.  But everything is lining up for now to be the time to move.  The funds are there.  The mortgage interest rates.  And the timing in our family.  But I'm having such a difficult time detaching form my home when I don't have a home to look forward to.

I feel like Jude.  I want to go home.

As he repeated that from the back seat, my mind drifted to home.  In the sense of our kingdom home.  This in-between stage has reminded me of how temporary and fleeting the things of this world are.  And my attachment and need for home has convicted me that I might be holding to tightly.  I might put too much on where we live and the building and the space we are in.  But really, when I'm run dry from exhaustion and stress, my longing for home is probably really longing for Jesus.

So, this morning, I have a to-do list a mile long, but I'm putting it on the back burner.  Me time.  Spending time reading and remembering that he cares for the birds of the air and I have no need to worry.  Remembering that the things of this world pass away, but he who abides remains forever.


Why is it, when things get crazy, the thing that I need most desperately is the thing that is the first to go?

I feel so weak these days.  Sometimes I'm overwhelmed with my need for Jesus and my lack of discipline to carve out the space I need.  And then I remember that he is here.  Now.  Even if my carved out time is 10 minutes before my feet hit the floor, he is still here with me now.  Always.  Regardless of if I feel crazy or feel shalom.  But Jesus, we need more Shalom.

I'm tempted to put too much weight into the worldly things I can touch.  Where should we live?  What house?  What part of the city?  What neighborhood will become our new mission field?

And I'm reminded of something I read at one time, although I can't remember where.  I read once that maybe God doesn't care as much about who you marry, as he does about your heart in the process (not talking about being unequally yolked, but rather the idea that you are waiting for "the one").  Surrendering to Him.  Wanting to serve.  Becoming the least, so that your spouse can be made greater (something I fail at daily).  I think the same is probably true about where we live.  I can spin and spin in my mind about where and how big and what's God's will.  Truth is, I know he is most concerned about my heart.  We will serve where we live.  We will choose a home that is intended to serve and have an open door to ministry and breaking bread and loving our neighbor near and far.

None of that has much to do with the house itself.  It's about us, being God's kingdom here on earth.  Loving our neighbors well, because we know that out of all the things, love is the greatest.

Lord, help me to not put too much worth into a house and to put all of myself into your kingdom.  Wherever you take us.  Whomever we come into contact with.  First Your kingdom.