For many days I stood by the tomb of an adventure I led for six years. I loved the journey and the people I walked with, but it had been passed onto others. Yet I still wept.
As I remained there, with my Bible open, I read a verse that gave me direction. “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen!” (Luke 24:6)
As others take on my old adventure, Jesus is calling me to another. But I have no idea where. It is like a spiritual hide-and-seek, an anxious fun as I peer behind trees, into chests, and obscure places.
I know that I will find Jesus in the place he wants me, in the adventure he has for me.
People often ask me, “Where is home for you? Is there a place you feel like you belong?”
“Home isn’t a place for me,” I say. “I grew up with refugee parents who could never settle. Derek and I have moved a number of times. Home is about the people I love, where I am loved. It’s about where I feel safe.”
Yet, loved ones move on and my ‘home’ dwindles away. Suddenly I feel unsafe. But God steps in. The Bible says, “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust.” (Psalm 91:1-2)
God is my home. I belong with him.
Photo by Kevin Gent on Unsplash