Granite Walls

We put our roots down in this home 33 years ago and haven’t thought of moving since. It is very easy, in such circumstances, to feel rooted and grounded in a place, rather than in a Person. It is very easy to base your sense of security on the granite walls of this home, rather than in the love of Jesus.

I’ve just been thinking about some people close to me who are in a period of transition, having heard the call of God yet being in a holding pattern, waiting to see what exactly he has for them. It’s a case of waiting in hope, and my Bible reading this morning was from a letter someone (possibly Paul) wrote to the Hebrew followers of Jesus. He encouraged them: ‘Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.’ 

There is something exhilarating about living on the edge. It is something life-enhancing, I think. But that’s easy for me to say as I sit back surrounded by stability. I’ve settled back into a comfort zone which actually has nothing to do with where I live, but everything to do with how I live. 

The next line in that passage in Hebrews says ‘Let us consider how we may spur one another on towards love and good deeds.’ It’s easy to become lazy and comfortable; it’s easy to find excuses for not going the extra mile to help someone, to visit someone, to show God’s love to someone who is hurting. 

We know a couple who, at retirement age, sold up everything – not just their home but everything in it – soft furnishings, dishes, the lot. They each kept one thing which was special to them: she kept a rocking chair; he kept a desk. For a year or two they lived a nomadic lifestyle, helping with elderly parents and aunties, helping with grandchildren. They took temporary jobs wherever they were: she as a nurse, he as an IT professional. Eventually they bought a small home in Arizona, where they live during the hottest time of the year, and when the weather improves, they rent it out to those seeking to escape colder northern climates, and live a few months of nomadic existence again.

It is a powerful reminder of the journey of life. We aren’t going to be in this home on the hillock forever. We may one day move out to somewhere easier to manage, closer to a bus route. We will one day certainly pass from this life to the next. It’s a journey, and we’re not meant to plump up the pillows and relax.

So today I’m thinking of those things for which I’ve been hoping, some over long years. And I’m holding unswervingly to the hope I profess, for Jesus, who promised, is faithful. 

And in the meantime, while I’m holding on to my hopes, I’m going to show my love to some others in practical ways.

Time to get moving.