On leaving home

Break my heart, take my dreams, they’re only in the way
Of what’s better than I ask or imagine
You’re my home, You’re my place, each and every word You say


It is a yellow house on a windy hill.  It is the faces of my children.  It is the gray carpet and pewter walls of my church sanctuary.  It is Wisconsin.  It is the country.  It is my bed at night, with my husband's arms wrapped around.


All of that, come October and November, is what I think about giving up.  And as the years pass, and I do it again and again, I am more and more sure that God is telling me to give it up.  Not to walk away from it, not to abandon missions here for missions elsewhere, or to forsake the responsibility of feeding and clothing my own for the compunction to feed and clothe orphans or the needy.  I think sometimes that's how we read John 12:25-26: Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. If anyone serves me, he must follow me; and where I am, there will my servant be also. If anyone serves me, the Father will honor him.  And Matthew 19:29: And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands, for my name’s sake, will receive a hundredfoldc and will inherit eternal life.  I think we read that as though we are supposed to walk away from our houses, our families, our lives, our possessions.  But what if it also applies to the value which we give these things?  How important is home to you?, God has asked me, again and again.  Can you serve me without one?  The answer, every year - through His grace - is YES.  I hold all that is dear to me loosely in these tired hands.  And when it is gone from that loose grasp, when I lay it down, and lie, stretched out on my face...and find that I am safe here, even when I am alone, under the shadow of Your wings.

The comfort washed down through the music at church this morning.  Everything about home.  In this moment, it is so sweet to remember that this world is not my home, not the yellow house on the hill, not my church, not my community, my state. The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him. (Romans 8:15-16)

Home is heaven
One day Lord, I will live
In Your courts, You'll find me
In worship at Your feet
Hide me now
In the shadow of Your wings
Where I will be
Home
~ Home, Hillsong ~

I will remember
You are the reason for my song
Blessed Redeemer
You love me as Your own
All I am
will I lay down
All I have
before Your cross Lord
~ Deep of Your Grace, Hillsong ~