A phrase which has resonated with me now for the last
several months continues to yield rich blessings. As I ironed this afternoon, I
thought of the meaning of home. I have understood the phrase to equate home
with heaven, and today I mulled over Jesus’ template prayer for God’s kingdom
to come to earth. His kingdom is our home. I believe we get a taste of heaven
now, every day, encountering the kingdom in each other and different situations
and hopefully bringing it into situations we encounter.
Walking each other home, then, happens all the time, when we
enable others to enter in, even for just a moment. When we carry the peace of
Christ into a frayed situation. When we live out our relationship with Jesus in
the minutiae of our days.
Home happens in relationships. Home is not necessarily a
place. ‘Home is where I hang my hat’ is an old phrase I remember from
somewhere. I have often said that I would make my home wherever Don is. So our
real home is more than a place, it is in Jesus.
I first encountered the possibility of a relationship with
Jesus in the fervent singing of choruses expressing love to Jesus, sung by
believers who inhabited their Lord. I still often find my home in Jesus in the
congregated worship of Jesus with other believers.
Walking each other into Jesus. What better description can
there be of life?
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