Come Home: Tracing God's Promise of Home Through Scriptureনমুনা

Preparing a Place Pre-motherhood, I thought pregnant people were being dramatic about the nesting thing. But the day I found myself hauling an 8x10 rug out of the nursery by myself at thirty-nine weeks pregnant, I had to take a hard look in the mirror. Inexplicably and suddenly, my brain insisted, “Rug is disgusting! I forbid Rug to be in the presence of Baby!” Then, to the dismay and alarm of Husband, I wielded my surprising pregnant lady strength to haul Rug downstairs. (Upon reflection, I think we put the rug back, and the baby was fine with it.) I was so deeply compelled to PREPARE A PLACE FOR THIS BABY. It was as if a radioactive spider had bitten me. Every time I’ve anticipated a child (both through pregnancy and through adoption), my internal affection for the child longs to express itself through my physical surroundings. You’re probably familiar with what I’m talking about, whether through motherhood, preparing for a houseguest, or creating a shared space with roommates. Perhaps you’ve also been the recipient of such affection—entering a place where it was clear you were prepared for, that your presence was anticipated with great joy. Sometimes, we’re tempted to dismiss such preparations as superficial or silly—and of course, it could become either of those things, but at the core, “preparing a place” is image-bearer stuff. We saw this on display in Genesis 1–2 (think, for example, about how God filled Eden with every tree with fruit that was good to eat and beautiful to look at!), and we learn this from Jesus Himself. Jesus spoke these comforting words to His disciples the night before His violent departure from them. The beautiful togetherness Jesus’s disciples enjoyed with Him was about to be severed—first through betrayal, then through abandonment, then through ridicule and torment, and finally through death on a cross. Jesus bore the full experience of separation, but His disciples experienced a measure of it, too. The cross was the ultimate act of hospitality. Jesus’s death defeated the enemy of sin and made the way for anyone who looked to Him to be welcomed home. However, as we study God’s promises of home, I don’t want to deceive you into thinking that everyone who follows Jesus experiences a perfect home here and now. When we follow Jesus, our feet are placed solidly and permanently on the journey home. We also experience a “deposit” of true home through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. But we’re not fully home yet. As such, we experience a measure of separation that can be deeply painful in a number of ways. And so, like Jesus’s disciples, we find comfort and strength in Jesus’s promises of home. Let me offer you a bit of wording that has been a comfort to me during my “homesick” moments—those moments when I feel lonely, confused, overwhelmed, or exhausted by the impact of sin in my life and on the world. It’s two phrases: “Christ in” and “in Christ.” Sister, if you are a Jesus follower, Christ is in you, and you are in Christ. Christ dwells in you through God the Spirit. He is with you always. You are never alone, never forsaken. Moreover, because you are in Christ, when God looks at you, He sees Jesus. That means He looks at you as His true child. You are never unloved, never despised, never unwanted. You always belong. “Christ in” and “in Christ”: May these truths wrap around you like a blanket and warm you from within like a cup of coffee! It’s all true: A precious deposit of home belongs to you, your true home is being prepared with you in mind, and Jesus will return so that you can be with Him. Thank you, God! Read John 14:1-7 and spend a few minutes thanking God for His gift of salvation.