Today my heart longs for home. Maybe I’m just tired and have no energy. Maybe my inmost being longs for His kingdom to come and His will to be done. Maybe my soul just craves eternity. I really don’t know, but I’m homesick.
Tonight, I have a silent-ish moment. I’m sitting at the local diner while hubby meets his men’s step-study group for dinner. I’m not a man; I’m not invited. I’ve tucked myself away in a booth, out of sound and sight. Here I purposed to work on my mental health coaching class in this rare stolen moment. However, my laptop battery reached exhaustion with no outlet in sight. I am powerless in oh so many ways.
My world has turned a bit nuts, crazy, mentally challenging, insane–it’s a list that never ends. I’m not handling it well either; hubby would agree. My grumpies rub off on all around me. “How much of the insanity is my attitude?” That nagging thought will not go away. A lot is going on, much of which is legitimately out of my control. In a flash of honesty, I’m not surprised. Let me back up just a bit.
Staring fear straight in the face, in the climatic epicenter of the house custody battle, God said the victory was on the horizon.
**Side note, the custody battle began in March of 2017, when I decided to leave Egypt for good. The final phase, the actual transfer of title, was consummated in late March of this year and would not be over until August. Four agonizing months is an insanely long time to secure a home loan. But, as is my life, the loan process had a million moving parts, twists, and turns. It was only accomplished by the miraculous.**
At long-awaited last, years of wandering lost in the desert would come to a close. The season of my life, titled “The Exodus From Egypt,” was nearing its final act–the crossing of the Jordan.
God said it was time. “Girl, remember when you asked me for a home in 2015–a home for your children to come home to? Remember when you prayed that prayer? The wandering aimlessly is over. I prepared you a place, the first time you looked over yonder hill, you ran in fear when you saw those giants. Soon you will cross that river on dry ground. Countless miracles later, the land I promised you is yours. I went before you, I’ve set it up for you, I have prepared a place just for you. Cross, and enjoy the moment of walking on dry ground. Marvel at my miracles. One thing you need to know, there are giants (still) on the other side!! Keep your eyes on me, pray, praise, worship, and keep your eyes on me. I will fight your battles for you; keep your eyes on me.” –PS, I know with utmost confidence, He fulfilled the first half of that request (took 6 years), but He will fulfill the rest of it.
So, after years of not taking him seriously, I took him seriously. In complete trust of what I could not see, I stepped into the river Jordan and left Egypt behind to face a world and giants I knew nothing about. I enjoyed my moment in the dry river bed, paused to smell the miracles, and walked into the promised land. Just as God promised, there are giants in the land prepared for me. They are ugly. Right now, they are compounding at an increasing rate. In the back of my mind, a thought swirls that this won’t last forever. Even the Israelites had years of peace.
For now, there are giants. Just when I settle into one giant, here comes another, then another, and yet another. In the middle of these giants, I’m tired and homesick. I’ve heard of Zion, and my heart longs for home–without giants.
I’m obedient. It’s the challenge of my life. I’m looking heavenward, focusing my gaze on Christ. Mostly! See the above mention of my attitude challenge. I suppose that in and of itself is a giant as well. I genuinely love when the realization hits mid-keystroke. It’s why I write.
In the middle of right now, it’s Christmas. I recall Christmas five years ago; it was the catalyst for change. The giants then were ugly. I lived in fear and had no trust. I did most of it wrong. I say most because I lived with some significant hurt that led to some crazy hangups that brought about some nasty habits. The part I did right?? My gratitude challenge segued into baby Jesus. That one little baby changed my life forever. The magnitude of His birth nestled into my heart, and I will never ever be the same. Without a doubt that Christmas was the moment I truly believed that God loved me enough to give His only son. I heard the story all my life, literally, but that year the miracle of Christmas became real. God sent His Son as a ransom for my life. I owe Him all the glory and the honor and the adoration.
So, it’s Christmas. A wave of intentionality has overtaken me. So many giants are blocking my physical view of all things rational. However, when I close my eyes, still my breath, and seek His face, He is right there, beside me. His baby finger curled around mine, so tiny, so fragile. How can a little baby in a feeding trough calm all my fears with one slight smile?
Surrounding the giants surrounding us are a million angel armies, vast, endless. This little baby has the power in the twinkle of his eye to call out all of Heaven should those giants dare to make a move. I have nothing to fear. I have no worries staring into the cooing face of love.
So maybe I need a Christmas season. I need to sit in silence with sweet baby Jesus once again. Silent night, Holy night.
I feel like snow should be glittering the night sky as the angels softly serenade the scene. Alas, I am still at the local cafe. The world is cruel and cold, the giants glaring at me with their disgusting eyes and swampy breath permeating the air, but nestled in my heart is Christmas.
Giants are a part of life here on earth. They will always be here; there may never be a day absent of their presence. I can’t fight them. Christmas gave me a gift that says I never have to. It’s why He came. The Christmas slogans herald, “wise men still seek Him.” I’m seeking, intentionally.
So, in the land of giants, keeping the “promised land mentality,” I praise the God who gave me His son. I hold his tiny hand in the palm of my hand and inhale His peace. He gave me a home that is not this earth. Thoughts of an eternity in the presence of the one and only King Jesus keep me going. His promises are true. Time and reflection have shown me that. I believe it with all I am, I hold unswervingly–He will never leave me or forsake me.
My heart will always be homesick here on earth. I am but a pilgrim on a long journey, from here to there. The journey of a million miles.
Romans 5:2-6 The Passion Translation
“Our faith guarantees us permanent access into this marvelous kindness that has given us a perfect relationship with God. What incredible joy bursts forth within us as we keep on celebrating our hope of experiencing God’s glory! But that’s not all! Even in times of trouble we have a joyful confidence, knowing that our pressures will develop in us patient endurance. And patient endurance will refine our character, and proven character leads us back to hope. And this hope is not a disappointing fantasy, because we can now experience the endless love of God cascading into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who lives in us! For when the time was right, the Anointed Once came and died to demonstrate his love for sinners who were entirely helpless, weak, and powerless to save themselves.”