I wonder why I don't feel more adrift.
The acreage that has been my home since my sixth month of life is drifting away as Daddy nears retirements. The thought of losing that place used to strike a note of feral fear within me. Now, I see God gently shaking its soil from my roots.
I am in my last thirty days of living with Grandma, this place of Grandma's care and cooking which carved a home amongst the stress and pleasure of learning.
I am headed to a place that is not guaranteed to me and my husband-to-be; it could be yanked away upon the whims of others.
Yet, among the uncertainties, there is peace. The peace originating in a God who knows, who sees, who understands. His comfort to me is that He already sees what lies ahead, and He is handling it even now.
The place He has for me in this moment is my home: this is where He loves me and where He has asked me to serve.
Forgive a rant, but that's one reason I don't like the song, "All I know is I am not home yet/ This is not where I belong . . ." I understand the general sentiment behind the words; I've felt it. The problem is that it is bad theology. The Bible promises a time and place for all things in out lives (Ecc. 3:1). Just because things are rough doesn't mean we get to ignore them. We Christians have to engage. Jesus spent time warning His disciples of things to come on earth, but He never told them to pull away or to "hang in there" until better things arrived. He told them so they could have peace in Him right in the middle of all the craziness (John 16:33)! Paul hit it right on the head: we don't have to be afraid of anything this earth can dish out - even death - because it all belongs to Christ (Philippians 1:21)! He gets it all in the end! We aren't chasing pie in the sky. We have it. We have Him. His name is Jesus, and His presence is my home.
Right here.
Right now.
And wherever tomorrow finds me.
