Since this past August I have been off at college and just several days ago I returned to my family, and to the home of my childhood, for the Christmas holiday. For some time before I flew back I often found myself humming I'll be home for Christmas; you can count on me... Finally being back with my family has caused me to ask myself, where do I consider my home to be? Where is my home?
Home sweet home; home is where the heart is; I'll be home for Christmas; home at last. What do you think of when you hear these phrases? What do you think of when you hear the word home? Do you see your parents, or your favorite spot on the couch or at the dinner table? Do you hear your little sister's giggle, or the sound of your dad's car driving up to the house at the end of the day? Do you smell your mom's chili; can you almost taste her famous apple pie? There might be so many memories that rush to our minds when we hear the word home, but I'm sure the last thing you think of is leaving all those memories behind. When we hear the word home memories rush to our minds, not expectations, and coming "home" has caused me to see just how wrongly I've been thinking about home.
I haven't come home this past week; I haven't even come close. This living room I sit in right now is not a room in my home. This structure is not my home and never will be. It is said that home is where the heart is, and in a sense this statement is true. My heart, my soul, my very life, has been purchased by the blood of Jesus Christ. I have been joined with Him in His life, death, and resurrection and my life is now one with His. My home is not here in this temporal world; it is with Christ who is seated in heaven at the right hand of the Father. Maybe one day, in the Lord's perfect timing, I will be home, truly home for Christmas.