Last week, I was talking about my brokenness and how I feel it pretty much all the time, like having the radio on in the car turned down low.
I think I maybe – just maybe, just maybe – know what’s really going on here.
I think I’m Homesick. Deeply and genuinely longing for my one true Home.
I had this moment recently. I was taking communion. My eyes were closed. Music was playing. I had the elements in my hands. I was thanking Jesus for what he had done for me on the cross, for taking on all that I had done and thought just that week, and thanking him for the way his blood covered over all of it, and I saw myself sitting in God’s lap.
And He was rocking me. And I was crying. And I told Him I wanted to be done, that I was so tired, that I’m sick of messing up so much, of feeling the weight of all the disappointment, that I just wanted to be Home with Him. And He said He knew, He understood.
And then I opened my eyes and took the bread and the wine and went on with my day and my life. (To be ridiculously clear: I am not suicidal, I have no thoughts of ending my life. Not by a long shot.)
I live a blessed life. I am a deeply grateful woman. I have more right in my life than wrong. But there has been and there is some wrong, and it has been and is very painful. And lately I am just feeling my gaze shift a bit.
I’m sensing that this hole that I feel on a pretty consistent basis is perhaps here for a reason.
God has put eternity in their hearts… -Ecclesiastes 3:11
We already know that in this world we will have trouble, but maybe it is to remind us that there is so much more up ahead.
The settled happiness and security which we all desire, God withholds from us by the very nature of the world: but joy, pleasure, and merriment, He has scattered broadcast. We are never safe, but we have plenty of fun, and some ecstasy. It is not hard to see why. The security we crave would teach us to rest our hearts in this world and oppose an obstacle to our return to God: a few moments of happy love, a landscape, a symphony, a merry meeting with our friends, a bathe or a football match, have no such tendency. Our Father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasant inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home. -C.S. Lewis
Yes, there is so very much good in this big beautiful world. Life is an absolute gift filled with treasures. And yet…I mean, could you imagine walking through this life – with all the wars and heartache and hurricanes and cancer – and thinking this was it? This is the entire thing, what we see and touch and feel and hear and do here and now?
A huge part of what gets me through is believing that this is not my home, that there is something so much better waiting for me.
So I am letting myself sit with this eternal loneliness, this deep longing. I’m worshiping in it. I’m not shaming myself for it. I’m crying buckets of tears through it. I’m welcoming it.
And I’m trying to let it remind me to be gentle with others. Ram Dass said that “we are all just walking each other home”. How gorgeous is that?
Yes, we are supporting each other in the here and now, for sure. We desperately need connection and community and commiseration in this uphill battle we’re all in together. But as we walk, day by day, we’re pointing each other back Home, to the heart of God, to the place we started and the place we’re going back to.
If you feel that emptiness and you don’t know God, you can know Him. He already knows you. And if you feel that emptiness but you do know God, I think that’s okay. I think it’s there to nudge us, to keep us looking forward, to keep our hope up. Because sooner than we know, we’ll be face to face with the One who loves us more than we’ll ever be able to fathom. And we’ll be Home.
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