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HOME.

Home.

If you are a visual person, and I quite frankly think we all are, something came to mind. And maybe along with it a smile, or honestly, maybe not. Being a student ‘’studying abroad’’
I’ve had the blessing to call several places home. Several places to love and be loved.
Five, if you want an actual number. And in Uganda; my best friend's house, my neighbour's and my parent’s house are all home. Or maybe for you home rings a very special bell and the idea of having more than one doesn’t
make sense to you, or in fact sounds like it would be great, better. You know, that’s okay too.Before I try to make everyone in some way, relate let me drive my point home. I was having a conversation with a  lady I look up to in this walk of faith, who is growing very dear to me, and we were talking about silence and solitude; a spiritual discipline that is one of the hardest and rarest, so much so that there is a big chance you have no idea what I am talking about. A discipline that entails being quiet before God. Shutting your brain down. Does that not sound almost impossible? The one time I tried it, I don’t think my mind has been louder. Plus I eventually just fell asleep. She has been doing it for over a year now and she says  it’s been one of her best spiritual disciplines and experiences up to date. Knowing that it’s just hard for us to be quiet and sometimes even harder to focus, she has a word that helps her. She says it to remind herself to be silent in the solitary time she’s spending with God. Being the in born interviewer that I am; I asked her what her word is. Want to take a guess? Home. I smiled and thought to myself, ‘’how perfect.’’ What if being where God is, is our true home? But get this, not only after we die; which is such Christian jargon, but even while we are still very alive.

Oh oh oh, you never let me go. Even when I roam your love pursues me. Calling me back home.  

The words of one of the songs that is sung by the collective Ug. His business is to call us home. He desires us to be home. I watched I Still Believe last night. Spoiler alert. Jeremy Camp’s (he’s a Christian artist) wife was sick of cancer and he was sitting by her bedside late one night. Her sister came to him and told him,’’ you should go home and get some rest.’’ I’m sure you can guess what he said. He said,’’ she is my home.’’ (referring to his wife) Cute. So very cute. Also an explicit example of how home should be attached to affection and care. Real interest. I guess I shouldn’t say should. Let me say usually is. Home is usually attached to what we are affectionate about. We are all one of two things. The prodigal son or his brother. Rebellious and proud, confident and away. Confidently away. Or obedient and ‘’good’’. Present but distant. Missing the heart of the Father. That we be close and closer. That we be home. That is the Father's heart.I suggest that as you, as I journey through life, we stay home. Such a neat paradox and oh how I love those. As we battle with questions. Doubts. Fears. Obedience and the temptation to disobey, that we stay home. And as we gaze at the Father, we will see what it looks like to be his kin. His kid. His.




   



(that's so funny that I wrote this entire thing in a state of mind that had completely forgotten that among many other phrases being said a lot right now, it's ''stay at home.'' That was in all ways coincidental and unintentional.)


Please, do in as many ways as you are able, stay home.


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