When anyone ever asks me where I’m from, I start to get really awkward because I don’t really know what to say. Honestly, I’ve lost count of how many places I’ve lived - I think I’m up to 12 places?! And no place has ever felt like home. I can’t tell you how jealous I am of the people who have been friends with their best friend since kindergarten or who have memories of being a kid in their same house when they come home to see their parents. I don’t have anything like that. I’ve always felt like a gypsy.

And with the gypsy life also comes no sports loyalty. How can you root for the home team if you’ve never had a home?! But all that changed when I decided to get my Masters degree from Duke University. I decided that I was going to call the Blue Devils my home team (and yes, that is all sorts of ironic to root for the Blue Devils while studying theology!). 

One evening while I was having a drink at Tennessee Brewworks, my “home” team was playing basketball against their biggest rival on the TV (and I’m such a fan that this took me by surprise and I had no idea they were playing beforehand…). The game was amazing. There were so many last-second three-pointers (is that the right term?!) and it came down to overtime where Duke scored another three points as the clock hit zero to win. I was hooping and hollering, standing from my seat, so excited to be rooting for the team that had just played an incredible game. I was so into it, that even after the game, the employees came over to me and asked me if it was OK to change the channel. I graciously and magnanimously told them that was OK. 

For a small moment, I finally felt what it was like to have a home. I felt like I had a connection to something bigger than myself. I felt like I had loyalty. I felt like I had camaraderie with the community of fans who were watching the game. I felt like I belonged. 

And that small moment of feeling like I belonged is what I hold onto when I think of what all eternity will feel like, because that is what God’s presence brings us—a home. Psalm 68 tells us that God gives those who feel lost or empty or abandoned a place to call home. God is a parent-figure to those who have no parents. God is a protector to those who have no protection. God is the mother-hen who lets her chicks nestle up to her warm feathers and protects them from danger.

...that is what God’s presence brings us—a home.

We all have a need to belong. But so often, the world can make us feel like we don’t belong. Sometimes we feel like no one understands us. Sometimes we are abandoned by those who were supposed to protect us. Some of us have been deeply betrayed by the ones we love. And sometimes, we just feel like the odd-one-out while everyone else has a place to belong. 

No matter where you find yourself today, know that you have a place in God’s home. And I can’t wait to live there with you forever.

Let's pray: Holy God, Thank you for loving us so much that your presence gives us a home. Help us to be reminded of that home today as we hold onto the hope of having that home for eternity. Amen.

Reflect: Have you ever experienced finding home in prayer with God? How can you cultivate this sense of home now? Can you make a sacred space in your home? Carry something to remind you of your eternal home?

One day a while back, I volunteered at a coat drive with my church. It was a wintery Saturday morning and I pulled up to a local middle school to help give away coats to local families who came to the coat drive. I was of course, wearing my favorite coat that day. It wasn’t an expensive coat, it came from Sam’s Club, but nevertheless, it was my favorite shade of royal purple with the perfect puffer size that fit me perfectly. 

As I walked into the middle school auditorium, it was significantly warmer than it was outside and I realized I would need to take off my coat. Not wanting to give away my coat that I was wearing that day, I set it aside, away from the tables with all the other coats on them, on the bleachers in the auditorium.

After a couple hours of hanging out and helping people pick out coats, it was time for us to wrap up. So I helped clean up and went to go grab my coat to head home. If I’m being honest, I probably walked to go get my coat with some sort of satisfaction and a “I spent my Saturday volunteering” kind of saunter. And as soon as I walked proudly to the bleachers I realized my coat had been taken. Someone must have mistaken my coat on the bleachers for one of the coats being given away and someone left that day wearing my favorite purple coat. And I will not lie to you, I was really sad. And cold.

And it’s as if God hit me over the head that day (OK, so maybe more like a tender hug before dropping a truth bomb) and I heard a voice that said, “You want to serve? This is how you serve. Take the coat off your back.”

Taking the literal clothes off my back to clothe someone else reminded me of a quote by Bruce Waltke, author of The Book of Proverbs, that says, “The righteous are willing to disadvantage themselves to advantage the community; the wicked are willing to disadvantage the community to advantage themselves” (1). 

Romans 15:30-33 (NIV)
​
"...so that I may come to you with joy, by God’s will, and in your company be refreshed.
(Rom. 15:32, NIV)."

After a long shelter in place period and having to miss my scheduled hair appointment, I was finally able to go get my haircut. It was great seeing my hairdresser, someone who I’ve known for 7 years (which is a long time for someone who moves around a lot). We commiserated together about how even though aging makes us more introverted each year, we still really wanted to see people during this time of forced separation and isolation. 

This pandemic has opened our eyes to how much we want to be with people and how sometimes video conferencing just doesn’t cut it. This pandemic has forced many of us to unveil the pretense that we’re fine alone. We don’t need anyone. And this pretense is so understandable. Sometimes, people do really hurtful things and we’ve learned that we have to protect ourselves from steamrollers, users, and abusers for the safety of our selves and our self-worth.

And the truth is, no matter how introverted we are, how hurt we’ve been, or how annoying people can be, we were made to live in community with one another. Why? Because the source of our being is always in community with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Our God is always in a mutually loving and perfect community, and we have a yearning to be in that perfect community, too.

Most of us have filled that yearning with a false sense of community, thinking we’ll feel it if we just constantly surround ourselves with people, if we fill our social media accounts with pictures of friends and good times, if we always have plans on Friday night. And even still, we have a deep yearning for the perfect community we were created to inhabit. And while we may not experience that perfect, mutually loving community until the Kingdom to come, we can have authentic community that refreshes and rejuvenates us today.

Paul as he was writing to the church in Romans, asks for prayer as he’s about to embark in a difficult mission where he may face adversity. He’s honest about his fear that he’ll be confronted by those who don’t agree with him and could endanger his life (Rom 15:30-31). And it’s after he faces this struggle and challenging situation that he says he will come to be in community with the Romans to be rested and refreshed. 

True, refreshing community comes from those who know our struggles. That means, like Paul, we have to be open about our difficulties with one another. We need to summon the courage of vulnerability to tell others when we’re afraid, when we’re hurt, and when we’re not OK. It means we have to bring down the walls of having to look strong and put together and share the real pain and losses of life.

And one interesting thing to note in the context of this scripture passage, is that Paul is writing to a church he’s never met before(1). Yet, he still knows he will be refreshed in their company. How can he be sure he’ll be refreshed by people he’s never met? Surely he doesn’t know all the ins and the outs of this group’s drama. He doesn’t know who’s saving seats at the potluck or who’s talking behind so-and-so’s back. But no matter the brokenness that is inevitably present in any group of people here on earth, Paul knows he’ll be refreshed by their company because they share the same hope. When we live in authentic community with one another, holding each other’s pain and hurt, we also hold on to the hope that anything and everything can be redeemed for good. 

And this hope doesn’t mean that we gloss over each other’s pain or belittle what someone’s going through. Horrific things do happen and we need to acknowledge that. What hope does mean is that we are not left to the darkness of despair. There is always light at the end of the tunnel, no matter the situation, no matter how difficult the circumstance, no matter how painful it feels.  

And as we live through these experiences with one another, sharing in challenges and grasping on to hope, we’ll catch a glimpse of the perfect community to come. 

Let’s pray. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, who dance together in perfect love, unity, and community, thank you for creating us to live in community. Help us to be vulnerable with one another, sharing in our challenges and holding on to your sustaining hope. Help us to be refreshed and rejuvenated by one another until you bring us home. Amen. 

Work Referenced
​(1) Powell, Mark Allan. “Romans” in Introducing the New Testament: A Historical, Literary, and Theological Survey, Second Edition. 271. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2018.

My husband and I just bought a new grill last week, so of course, we wanted to cook everything on our new grill. Our house smells super smoky right now. One evening we started up the grill and heard thunder in the distance. But the sky looked clear, my trusty weather app said there was no rain predicted for that night, so I thought, you know what, let’s just keep going, I’m sure it’s going to be fine. It’s not gonna rain here. But sure enough, the rains came apouring. All of a sudden, we were not worried with our safety or dryness as much as our new grill’s safety. We just bought it, so we didn’t want it sitting out in the rain hot with cold water on it. It might crack, it might get rusty. And the grill was too hot and smoky to put the cover on it. So, at first, my husband tried to position our huge patio table umbrella next to the grill so that the grill would stay dry in the rain. But the winds were too intense and it kept falling. So as my husband kept nursing the coals of the grill to finish our dinner, I stood next to the grill holding the patio table umbrella in place over the grill.

As the wind was blowing, the rain was coming down sideways, and I was holding that oversized patio umbrella upright, it reminded me of the precious moment of Moses, Aaron and Hur in Exodus. During the battle against the Amalekites, it was only when the staff of God was raised in Moses’ hands that the Israelites were winning. When Moses had his staff lowered, the enemy was winning. And when Moses’ arms got so tired from holding the staff, his right-hand men had to put a stone under him and held his hands up, one on each side (Ex 17:12).

I don’t know what tough time you are going through or what challenge you may be facing, but I do know that you can’t make it alone. And sometimes, we feel pressured to do it alone. Sometimes we feel like we can't bring our baggage to the church, to our family, or even to our friends, because we’re worried we’ll be judged if we don’t measure up. And some of us have felt the sting of rejection from confiding in people we thought would care about us. And if that’s happened to you, I am so sorry. Our experiences may have reinforced us to hide our challenges inside, resigning to the fact that we just have to deal with it all on our own. And haven’t we all tried to make it on our own at some point? We think if we can just try harder, work longer, read the right book, go cold turkey, we can stop our bad habits, our bad thoughts, or our pain for good. But every time we try to do something on our own, it fails. We go back to our coping mechanism, we keep spiraling in our unhealed wounds, and, like Moses, our arms get tired from carrying the weight of the world in our hands. 

No, we can’t do it alone. We need help. Just like my husband needed me to hold the umbrella steady during the storm, we need help keeping ourselves steady in the storm. We need something to prop us up when we’re too tired to keep going. We need the power of God to lift us up, the sustaining power that the Holy Spirit gives. And sometimes, this power of God comes through the vehicle of others. Just like Aaron and Hur had to lift Moses’ hands up, sometimes God’s power works through the people who help lift us up: a timely word from a friend, encouragement from a partner, a discovery from a trusted counselor, and yes, sometimes, help from our medication (gasp!). ​