Not Home Yet

Where do you call home?

As I'm writing this, I'm back where I used to call "home."  I've taken a much-needed break from my responsibilities in Cincinnati in order to visit my family in Topeka, Kansas, where I grew up. It's been a great trip so far--I've gotten to eat some delicious cheeseburgers, I've gotten to meet my two new nephews, and this afternoon I enjoyed Sonic's Happy Hour for the first time in ages. Many would say that on this trip, I've gone back home, but as I think about it, I realize that I'm not really home.

Don't get me wrong. It's nice to be back in Topeka, and I've loved getting to spend time with my family. But this isn't my home anymore. I don't live here. I'm a guest. I'm sleeping in a room decorated with a cat-theme. I've this were my home, it wouldn't be decorated with cats. And again, I don't mean that since I've moved away from Topeka, I feel that I'm not part of this family or anything like that. But this house isn't my home anymore. I've moved on, and things here have moved on as well.

So where is my home? If not Topeka, it must be Cincinnati, right? That's where all my stuff is. That's where I pay my bills. That's where the CIA would come looking for me if they needed me for a top-secret mission. And yet, Cincinnati doesn't feel very "homey" to me either. It's a temporary residence, and I know that when I graduate from grad school next year, I'll likely be leaving it behind.

I'm in an awkward place in life, where there is no place that I can really call home.

All of this has reminded me of my favorite few verses of Hebrews 11. This is a famous chapter that outlines the lives of the Old Testament heroes who lived "by faith." The list includes the likes of Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, and Moses. In the middle of this chapter, the author writes in verses 13-16:

These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. 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.

 The faithful life is one characterized by a desire to find a home. The Old Testament saints described in Hebrews 11 never felt settled in their life. They realized that they were journeyers. And while they had families and flocks and tents and houses, they were always looking forward to something much grander. They never felt quite at home.

The old adage states that "Home is where the heart is." I think that's true. But for these people, their hearts weren't in anything that the world could offer them. They had given their hearts to God, so their home was where God is. They lived with a continual restlessness, awaiting the city that God had prepared for them.

We weren't made for what the world as it exists now has to offer us. We were made for much more. And when we lose focus and forget that truth, and when we fix our thoughts and hearts on what the world can give me right now rather than how we can use our lives for the sake of God's kingdom, we're selling ourselves far short of the plans God has for us.