The search for home

'I am calling you home' He whispered to me over and over again, ' I am calling you home.'

Home. A safe place, a place of fullness, a place in which the very reason I have been created is uncovered, where all those pieces, those things, longings and desires within me that don't make sense, that don't fit, those things that don't even have words, that are misunderstood all find a place to rest. 

Gillingham was my home. The place where I was called, my purpose, my place of satisfaction, my place that whispered things that set my heart alight, the place whose brokeness made parts of me come alive, the place of safety and knowledge of my call. 

But maybe there were aspects of Gillingham that spoke of a greater sense of being at home, maybe the people I met and the things that I saw pointed to a greater meaning of this concept of being at home. Maybe the things that made my heart come alive, the conversations that fitted, the people that knew me, knew those broken and whole pieces within me and embraced me - maybe they spoke of a larger and more maginificent meaning of the word 'home'

As I spent the last few days in England saying goodbye to people and places - there was a sense of leaving home behind, of being pulled away from those people and places that were home for me. 

There are pieces of me find home in people, in places, in situations, in conversations.  

As I came off the plane and saw my mum, I found aspects of home in her arms, in the familiarity, in the knowledge of being known and accepted. 

There are pieces of me find home in people, in places, in situations, in conversations.  

We feel at home with our closest friends, kindred spirits, whose conversations and cuddles bring something out in us that makes us feel like things are as they should be. 

We feel at home in the closeness of that one we truly love that makes our heart want to explode and in whose arms we feel the fullness of who we were meant to be. 

We feel at home when we look at the sea, the stars, when a child puts their hand in ours, when we sit with those we love, being fully known, and hear grace.

We find home in those people whose hearts sing the same tune as ours, when we walk the streets of somewhere we know we are meant to be. 

Maybe, just maybe, all these things speak of a bigger home - a home where we can be fully at rest and peace, a home where our hearts are known as they are and where everything in us feels alive and well. 

My heart is on the search for the wider meaning of being at home - wholly and fully at peace and rest. Wholly and fully working at something that makes my whole self come alive. That thing that brings out those bits within me that are otherwise hidden, that calls into being those things that are truly and magnificently me, that place where everything becomes clear, comes into line and my body can breathe a sigh of relief. Where the harshness and broken-ness of this world is gone.

He called me home, to Hamilton to begin my search for home. He has brought me back to where I first began. He led me here in search of a wider meaning of home. A wider search for purpose and calling. A deeper knowledge of what it means to have my home in him. It will be raw and dissatisfying. 

I catch glimpses of being home.

But there is still a feeling of homelessness. 

“If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” C.S Lewis

Maybe, just maybe, the glimpses of being home that I find in people, places and situations, where my heart is fully alive but fully at rest speak of a wider sense of being home - the being at home that can only happen when I am with Jesus - when I am fully at rest in a place where wholeness and fullness is possible, where goodbyes and sadness are no longer there, where my heart is at home and alive. Maybe, just maybe, heaven is what my heart longs for. 

Even Jesus speaks of having no place to lay his head. This tells me that in this world he had no home, he had no feeling of home - he felt he had no place to rest. Jesus even had the feeling of homelessness. We homeless lot are in good company.

But when he healed people, when he met with ordinary people, when he saw people come to fullness and wholeness, when he was having banter with his disciples, when he met with the Lord quietly on his own, poured out his heart to the father, there is no doubt in my mind that he would have felt or seen glimpses of being at home. But he would have seen glimpses of being at home in heaven, that peace that comes from seeing the peace that his father brought him, that perfectness of heaven - where broken-ness, turmoil, sadness and the uncomfortable will no longer exist.

Jesus is kind enough to give us glimpses of being at home, in the brokeness and harshness of this world.

We catch glimpses of being home.

But there is still a feeling of homelessness. 

But whilst on this earth the feeling of homelessness may be a lasting one, as I battle out what it means to have a home that is not of this earth, to sit in the uncomfortable place of no answers and long for home I long for the final homecoming, where Jesus will come and take me to a place where I will be at home, my body will be at rest, those glimpses of home we see in people and places will all join together and our brokeness will be made whole as we get to sit in the gloriousness of meeting Jesus in wholeness and fullness. Where He will wipe every tear from our eyes, where mourning will be no more and pain will cease. Where joy, peace and wholeness will reign.  

But even as I write, dissatisfaction rises within me. I dont want to have to wait to find home. I want to be able to feel at home here, to feel satisfied and for the longings of my heart to be met. Its easier that way. It's much easier than sitting with dissatisfaction.
I don't want the answer to be to sit and wait in the uncomfortable. 

And even as I write he whispers, 'I haven't called you to take the easy road.'
I hear this as truth. But as uncomfortable truth. 

I am always so hesitant to hear that whilst on this not so easy road, I will find home in the eyes of Jesus. My edges, my lack of answers, my dissatisfaction, my rough bits, my desires and longings, my need for safety and security will be put to rest as I sit with him and allow him to be home for me in a place that does not feel like home. 

He has told me this journey of home will be raw, dissatisfying and uncomfortable. But for now, I will take the glimpses, I will long for more, but I will thank him for the glimpses of a place and a time where my heart will be fully at home in Him. 
I will continue to wrestle, but I will take the glimpses.