The Things We Make Homes Out Of

Sometimes you don't figure out that somewhere has been home until you have left it. 

When you're driving or flying away to a place that you think is more home is often when you realize that the road or sky you're traveling through is really the home you're more familiar with. When you're somewhere else, you realize that where you are is even less home than where you came from. The problem is that even though you're always searching for the "right" answer to "where is home?" it's a question that can never be honestly answered correctly the same way twice. Home is a constantly evolving place/feeling/smell/taste/sound/memory. Fill in the blank as you please.

Sometimes home can be a person.  This is a home that is - for a moment - secure, happy, and everything you could ever dream a home to be. It has the red couches you've pictured and the bay window that looks out to the sea. It has shelves full of books you hope someday to read. But if you make a home out of a person, then you're sinking alongside the man who built his house on the sand. You're asking for it to crumble, you're asking for unsteadiness and fast sinking dreams. People change, people have needs, and people move away. If you make a home out of a person, you'll forget where you came from and who you were before you moved in. You can't cling to that kind of a home forever.

Sometimes home can be a routine. It's a place where you have a schedule and are expected to get things done on a deadline. But that's like asking home to be something you can place on a calendar for every day of the week. It's like asking home to be something consistent and predictable. But anyone who has ever tried to have a home knows that plumbing gets damaged, windows get cracked, and the creaky wooden stairs eventually drive you up the walls. Repairs are necessary, funds are hard to come across, and at times you have to decide whether you'll keep it up and work hard or pack up and move on. You can't expect this house to stand forever.

Sometimes you can make a home out of a memory. This is the kind of home that can exist in a place no matter how large or small. This kind of home exists in your heart and your mind. This home is often shared with one or more other residents, but when asked for details, the residents will remember different pictures on the fridge and varied shades of blue on the bathroom walls. It's a shared home, but not really shared at all. Time is absent in this home and the homeowner of this place really only keeps paying the rent in order to go back to smell that mix of sappy nostalgia and naive bliss. This the home that looks perfect in pictures, but when visited years later the owner realizes that it's not what it once was. Walls are rotted and colors on the walls aren't as bright as they used to be. Often this home moves on without its resident or any sort of consent. This home slowly changes and, in a bittersweet way, fades without warning. This home says goodbye long before the resident realizes it is gone. Your memory can't hold this home together forever.

But, if you make a home out of a future, out of a hope, and out of the things that God promises, you willl realize sooner or later that home is not what you previously thought it ought to be. Your definition of home will be entirely flipped around. It will be something to rejoice in, not feel bitter about. You will realize that "where is home?" and "where are you from?" are actually quite ridiculous questions, and think that perhaps we should be asking "where is your final destination?" and then pray for a heavenly answer. You will realize that when you make a home out of anything past or present that it is often not there by the time you get back to it. 

I think there is a certain kind of strength in calling more than one place "home." There's a boldness in saying, "right here is home and after I drive 500 miles across the country or fly for 32 hours, I will be home then, too." There is a willingness to grow and accept change that comes from speaking those words and knowing that a home doesn't have to be a place with four walls that boxes you in and keeps you still and contained. Rather, in allowing "home" to be more places than one, you allow yourself freedom to roam. You allow yourself opportunity to realize the blessing it is that earth was not made to be our home. And Lord willing, you will find yourself in heaven one day and never have to call anywhere else Home ever again. You were made to call heaven your permanent Home, and the heavenly Father has a room waiting for you. You can make a Home out of God's promise of forever.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father's house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me so that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going." John 14: 1 - 4 (NIV)

"But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ." Philippians 3:20 (NIV)

So That I May Live.

Have you ever thought about the cross?

Christ died a shameful death - the MOST shameful death possible for that time and culture. He died a death on a cross. Two planks of wood were stood up, nails were sent through his hands and feet and he was stuck on the cross and hung there to die. Not only did he endure that [for us], but he also endured mocking, betrayal, being stripped of his clothing, being yelled at, and being provoked. The soldiers disgraced him immensely and the disciples denied him. And what did Jesus do while they did all of that to him?  He let them move him as they pleased. He let them kick him and whip him and call him mocking names. They tried their hardest to provoke him to anger and to lashing out against them. Yet, he did nothing but pray for them.

When I read the passages about the crucifixion, I want to yell at Jesus and scream at him, "Say something! Do something! Tell them what this means! Explain who you are!" But he doesn't do that. He stays completely silent and accepts their beatings and their wretchedness. And when he finally does speak, he tells the women not to weep for him (Luke 23:28). The second time it is recorded of him speaking, he is hanging on the cross and all is he says is, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing."(Luke 23:34)

Wow. Just wow. Let that blow your mind. It blows my mind. He is so humble. I see him as absolutely overcome with grief that he can't say a single word to them. Have you ever felt that feeling? You're so upset and heartbroken about something, and then the most agitating, annoying thing that would make you lash out any other day happens and you can't even muster up the ability to respond to it. You just are so overcome with sadness that you can't respond. I imagine Christ felt that way during the crucifixion. He was so overcome with sadness. He must have thought, "they don't understand what they are doing, and they don't understand what I am going to do for them." He had pity on them. He was grieved for the sins they were committing. But he also knew that he had to do this task, dying on the cross for all sins, in order to carry out God's plan.

He knew the purpose for which he was to suffer, and he knew he would rise up again, defeating death for ever. He makes a statement toward this during the Last Supper as he ate with the disciples. "When the hour came, Jesus and his apostles reclined at the table. And he said to them, 'I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I tell you, I will not eat it again until it finds fulfillment in the kingdom of God...This is my body, given for you; do this in remembrance of me...this cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you,'" (Luke 22:14, 19, 20). I imagine the disciples thought Jesus was talking crazy talk. Body? Blood? Kingdom? Jesus, where are you going? How long will you be gone? Suffer?

But you know what else I believe he felt alongside all the grief? Joy. I genuinely believe with all my heart that through all of this, Jesus felt inexplicable joy for what was coming. He knew that the people would gradually begin to understand who he is and what his purpose is for being there. They would see him die, and three days later they would find an empty tomb. And that empty tomb would mean that this man that they learned to love, follow, and admire for years was back and he was going to be with them for a much longer time.

This is not a simple concept to take in. Here we are thousands of years later and we still can't completely fathom that God sent his son to become a man, live this human life, be tempted beyond what most of us can bare, teach boldly to people who wanted nothing to do with him, and then be crucified for something he was not even guilty of doing. Those who knew Jesus and saw all of this first-hand could hardly believe it. And yet, it is historical truth. We believe it because we have faith that God is a good God and that he loves us so much that he did do exactly what I just spoke of. This is nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed of believing. Our Savior is risen! He defeated death! Because he lives, we too can have life and have it to the full.

Christ died on the cross so that I may live. He wore those chains and took the mocking because he knew that someday I would be sitting on the bleachers in the rain, in the middle of the night, and I would look up at the Wilmore water tank cross as it glows in the sky, and I would tell him the story of his crucifixion and it would compel me to write this to you as I freeze. (And a year later, to finally write the rest of this and actually post it for you to read!) He died so that I may live a life that leads others to him. If he had never done that, none of us would be here today, and none of us would see the true glory of God's incredible all-encompassing love.

"'Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?' The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."

1 Corinthians 15: 55-57 (NIV)

God bless & Happy Easter to you all :) 

Pain: Not as Useless as you Think

I think the moment you can truly realize that a bad relationship had something good about it, is the moment when you can see it bring something good from it. When you can learn something about yourself, life, love, or all of the above, through that past relationship, I believe you have taken a step in allowing pain and the shattered glass pieces in your heart turn into a beautiful new creation; a heart in the process of being repaired. If you can learn something now, because of something before,  you have done something right in the process.

A painful memory, a painful relationship (and I mean romantic or just friendships) should not be something that shuts doors in your heart and your life. I know that is probably the first thing you want to do when you're hurt. I know it is the first thing I want to do when I get hurt. I admit I have done it many times, with many doors, with many relationships. But what good does shutting that door actually do for you? Does it keep out the pain? Sure. Does it stop others from being able to get in and hurt you again? Sure. Does it protect you from ever feeling that horrible feeling again? Sure. It seems like a sure-fire way to stay away from pain, away from feelings, and away from being vulnerable, right? But does shutting doors and putting up walls also keep you from love? Absolutely. Does it keep you from having relationships that benefit and heal you? Absolutely. Does it keep you from being able to fully love others? Absolutely.

The point I am trying to get at here is that pain is horrible, but it is worth it if you handle it properly.
Heartache and pain are real and they need careful attention. Closing your eyes to a bad situation does not make it go away. Ignoring the fact that something or someone hurt you, does not make it all better. Pain needs to be accepted and it needs to be tenderly cared for.
I sincerely believe that when we accept the fact that we have been hurt, betrayed, toyed with, abused, struck down, or stabbed in the back is when we can truly begin to understand the purpose that pain holds in our lives. Do you hear that? Pain has a purpose. Pain does not exist to merely "ruin our lives" or make us miserable. Romans 5:3-4 says, "Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope." That could not be more true. God carries us through painful suffering so that we can produce perseverance, character, and hope. He brings us through this pain so that we can become better people with better hope.

I have been hearing a lot of stories from friends and going through a lot of personal revelations lately with this in mind. In the moment of its origin, pain seems utterly useless, but when you can accept the pain, offer it up to God, and try to allow it to have its way through your life, pain can really have a wonderful outcome. Pain has made me the strongest in certain areas of my life where I am so thankful I am strong in. There have been a lot of relationships in my life where I have experienced "person-hurt" and there have been deep wounds that have affected a lot of my future decisions and relationships. I did not understand it at the time, but those wounds would slowly fill up with flowers. Allowing myself to talk about these wounds and the pain I felt, has allowed me to process what went on and to see myself and my actions in a different perspective. In this, I have found new understanding to my reactions to certain personalities and situations. Most recently, I have seen where I fear, and now understand why. And suddenly those painful memories don't seem as useless as they once felt.

I hope that my words make sense to someone reading this. And I pray that my readers would be able to grasp what I have begun to learn: that pain is not useless, and, when treated and understood properly, can even grow flowers where things were once completely dried up and closed off from the sun.