I was gone 13 hours yesterday. I got home from working on campus today hoping maybe someone would be home, but no one’s here yet.

I could have gone grocery shopping. The only food I have is a box of cookies, beef jerky from the trip, and tons of leftovers from lunch and dinner meetings the past few days.

There are dozens of other things I should probably be doing. There is nothing on my walls. Half of my stuff is still in boxes. There is a spoon on my desk. So naturally, I felt like I needed to write.

I’m doing this partly for you, but mainly for me. A lot of stuff has gone down in the past week and it wouldn’t hurt to reflect a bit.

It’s amazing how many times in life something drastic, sudden, or even traumatic can happen to us and we just kind of… move along. We refuse to think and to feel and to seek.

I think it’s time to reflect on reality and meditate on truth. That way I can figure out how truth fits into this specific part of reality that is my experience this past week. For there is no piece of our experience that does not find its significance within a framework of higher truth. Right?

Moving across the country isn’t traumatic, but it’s drastic. I left behind my parents, my dog, my room, my church family. Circumstances I consider familiar. People I consider safe. People who bring joy to my life and draw me out of a place of shame and into a place where I can reveal something of beauty to the world around me. There is something to be said for “staying strong” and moving forward, but I want to give space to rightfully grieve the fact that, although I can speak with these people, it will be much less often. And it won’t be the same. And I won’t be able to experience the embrace of these people like I could when I was back home. I just won’t.

I told my friends back home that it’s like my family is just expanding. I truly believe that. I’m not losing friends or family. I’m losing time with them. But you know what? Everyone else’s life is going on, too. I have two friends who are getting married. One who just had a baby. Today. One whose parents just moved back in with her and her husband and kid.

Life goes on.

But this is more of a practical reality than anything. I will still think of my friends and family all the time. Little things will remind me of them. Or I will give one of them a call every once in a while. But most of all, I know we’re running the same race. We’re all pursuing the same goal together: to glorify God and tell the world how much he freaking loves every single person on this earth.

Don’t you kind of HAVE to be scattered to accomplish that goal?

We are strong when we are scattered. Because we are united. 

We are
one.

I left my home for a new one. A new state. A new region. A new culture. A new house, a new rhythm, new responsibilities.

This will soon feel like home in many ways.

But I have to keep in mind that that is always an illusion.

There is a band my brother and I loved growing up. We got to see them perform. Twice. I have a signed poster of theirs. I got to talk to the members, and the drummer, who was actually acquiring carpal tunnel, which can destroy you’re career if you’re a drummer.

The song was called, “It’s Not Home.” It goes like this.

Time is like a grain of sand on the beaches
of eternity.
But here we’re toiling, planning
like we’ll never leave.
Yeah I know Your fire is coming…
What will stand the flames?
Will Your return find me running,
or blind and lame?

I’ve gotta say that I’ve lived
too many days like I belong here
(It’s not home)
I’m shocked to see the measure
Of where I’ve been storing treasure
(It’s not home)

I’m not home here
I’m not home here

The question’s calling louder:
“Who do you believe?”
The answer lies upon the things to which we cleave
But I know You’ve gone ahead
To build a place for me
So I’ll trust the things You said
Trust though I can’t see

Have we believed the fiction
authored by the world’s depiction
of how it is?

Let’s not forget the story…
We’re living for His glory now.

You laid it down, for me
So I lay it down, for You

___

Maybe you’re in a stage of life where you’re moving around a lot. Maybe you’re about to move. Maybe you just moved. Maybe you’ve felt stuck. Maybe you even feel a little too settled…

It’s not home.

Don’t ever fall into the illusion that this is your home.

God himself is your home.
Nothing and no one else.

Check out these passages about what that means:
(Don’t skip over these! I know you want to but you really actually don’t, so don’t miss them!)

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser.
Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away,
and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes,
that it may bear more fruit.
Already you are clean
because of the word that I
have spoken to you.

Abide in me, and I in you.
As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself,
unless it abides in the vine,
neither can you, unless you abide in me.
I am the vine;
you are the branches.
Whoever abides in me and I in him,
he it is that bears much fruit,
for apart from me you can do nothing.

If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers;
and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.

If you abide in me,
and my words abide in you,
ask whatever you wish,
and it will be done for you.

By this my Father is glorified,

that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples.
As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you.
Abide in my love.
If you keep my commandments,
you will abide in my love,
just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love.

These things I have spoken to you,
that my joy may be in you,
and that your joy may be
full.”

// Jesus, recorded in John 15:1-11,
English Standard Version
(spacing and emphasis added)

Here is another one from Paul:

“When I think of all this, I fall to my knees
and pray to the Father, the Creator of everything
in heaven and on earth. I pray that from
his glorious, unlimited resources
he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit.

Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him.
Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong.

And may you have the power to understand,
as all God’s people should,
how wide,
how long, how high,
and how deep
his love is.

May you experience the love of Christ,
though it is too great to understand fully.

Then you will be made complete
with all the fullness of life and power
that comes from God.

// Paul of Tarsus, Ephesians 3:14-19,
New Living Translation
(spacing and emphasis added)

And here’s another from Jesus:

“Jesus answered,
‘If anyone [really] loves Me,
he will keep My word (teaching);
and My Father will love him,
and We will come to him
and make Our dwelling place with him.'”

// Jesus, recorded in John 14:23,
Amplified Bible
(spacing and emphasis added)

We build homes on quicksand.
That is, unless we build our home on Christ,
the solid rock (See Matthew 7:24-29).

My new home was built in 1792. Well, the second floor was. Here’s what happened: that floor was actually lifted, and then a basement was dug out from under it, and then a new floor was built, and the second floor was placed on top! This renovation took place in 1844. I now live on the second floor. But I use this illustration to say this: just as the house I’m living in was uprooted, so your house will be uprooted if you’re building on any foundation other than Christ.

So what is it in your life you’re building your foundation on? It could be a very good thing… but a thing other than Christ. Too bad — even this is quicksand. Even the BEST things are things that could change at any moment. Will you be left in pieces? Or will you stand strong, still living with joy and hope?

What are you calling your “rock” that is really just quicksand? It could be your town. Your family. Your church. Maybe something you aren’t even consciously aware of: your physical or mental ability. Your reputation. Your performance at work or school. A certain talent you have that makes everybody like you. What would you be without these things?

Listen. Thank God for the time He has given you to enjoy these people and these things. But He never intended for you to find your ultimate security and dwelling in them. Even if it’s your own spouse — it honors God to lean on your spouse in some sense, but unless you’re both leaning on Him even more, as separate individuals, your marriage is just as subject to sinking as anything else!

Thank God for sand. Because sand is made up of pieces of rock, and those pieces all reflect qualities of the Rock we long for, and they remind us of how Christ the Rock was broken for us. They remind us that when grains of sand are scattered about the earth, they produce something beautiful, like a beach.

Thank God for sand. But thank him as you abide in Him. Don’t thank him and then wander off and go live in the quicksand. Dwell in him, even as He dwells in you. This thing you have with God, this relationship, is more precious than anything anyone has ever found on any beach.

And when you have a solid rock to stand on, you not only don’t sink; you have the power to pull other people out from the mire — even as the ground around you is shifting.

This is where I want to live. Whether I’m in Denver or Boston, this is where I want to abide: in Him. In a place of strength. Where I’m not living in this lack of fulfilling relationships or joy, but where I’m living in an overflow. Even this week!

And this is where I want you to live, friend. Stand on the rock. No one said you had to be a stick in the mud. You are called to be out of the mud, free, and to pull other people out of their own mud.

That’s my prayer for you this week.

Know your home…
…and lead them there.