Home

It is good to be home. I was traveling this past week, something that I don’t do all that often anymore. But it did get me to thinking about all of the places that I’ve called “home” over the years. The first one to jump on the list would be my house growing up; 5280 Tabor St., Arvada Colorado, 80002. So beginning with that one and Google maps, I just took a quick trip down Memory Lane. House in Arvada, dorm rooms in Irvine, parent’s house in Maryland, dorm rooms in St. Louis, apartment in Florida, house in Nebraska and 2 houses back in Colorado.

All of the sudden it stuck me that not every house was a home to me. And this made me think of, not the song or the book, but way back to my confirmation days. When I was in 8th grade we were required to memorize a lot of stuff and one of the things we memorized was Martin Luther’s Small Catechism. I can still hear it echoing in my head, the explanation to the Apostles’ Creed: “I believe that God… also gives me clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and home…” And most of those pairs seemed to make sense, clothing is great and even better with shoes, food is necessary but so is drink. Yet for the life of me I could never figure out the difference between house and home.

It is not just how long you lived someplace, I lived on a couple of campuses for years but they were not home. It is not just who else is there. My college roommates where some of the greatest friends with which God ever blessed me. In Nebraska I lived alone (except for the dog) and that somehow was home. House and home now is simple. It hasn’t been this simple since I lived in my childhood home. Now days I come home from a trip and the dog is excited to see me (still), my wife is excited (still?) and my daughters knock me over with hugs and questions. The house is never the same as I left it (as it was in the bachelor days) and there is always something new to fix. But there is no question, this is home.

There are also times when I come back to an empty house, everyone at school, work, gymnastics – whatever. So I’m at my house but it doesn’t seem like home. To be honest all the peace and quiet makes it seem better than home! But that only lasts a moment and I wish “home” would come back home.

So it is not just the building and it is not just the people. It is some rare, some unique combination of things that put my soul at ease. I’m home… Is there any other way to say it? I know I’m home.

It has made me wonder if perhaps that is why God seems to have such a hard time describing what “home” is like. It would be like me describing to you what my home is like. It is a place, a location which is extremely important. But no amount of pictures or architectural plans or fabric swatches or paint palates will really convey to you what makes my house home. And so too with the home of which God speaks. It is, I believe, a place. But to focus on the what of that place largely misses the point.

I think that is why Jesus uses the picture of returning home so often. One of my favorite chapters of the Bible is Luke 15. In it we get three quick stories, lost sheep, coin and son who all end up “home” at the end. Especially vivid to me is when the son “comes to his senses” and realizes “hey, this place sucks I should go home.” And he does. He goes back to his Father’s house and more importantly he goes to his Father’s home. And in my mind I can see it. I can see the peace that comes over the son as he realizes it, “I’m home. I’m the place where I’m always welcomed, always loved, always forgiven. I am home.”

So while I didn’t click my heals together yesterday and say, “there’s no place like home” I did lay down in my bed on my pillow and say a little prayer of thanks for being home. Because the only thing that is better than being home, is being Home. It is great to be home.