Almost Home

I love going on trips with my family. Sometimes I get the urge to just pack everyone up into the car and start driving in no particular direction.  My wife thinks I am crazy…she is probably right. This would probably become a regular occurrence for our family if that pesky money issue would not get in the way. Over the years, I have learned something about myself; I enjoy change. I like living in a climate where the weather changes four times a year. I prefer to have different meals and like coming up with new palatable concoctions. I like to have rooms painted different colors every so often. People often ask me what my favorite food or restaurant is, but I can’t say because I like to try a variety of restaurants (except sushi…that’s disgusting). I am certain that this roaming, changing, dance around impatiently-behavior is a real nuisance to my family, but it is me none the less. I resist this urge regarding some of the more important things of life. For example, I get the urge every four to five years to relocate my family. I realize that this is an area of change that I cannot be so flippant about, as God’s will and God’s direction must take precedents over my intemperate spirit. However much I may resist the careless desire for change in some of these more important areas, it is inevitable that ever several years, these strange feelings come over me.

This desire for persistent change has to be tempered with reality and God’s direction, and I recognize this clearly. However, I am looking forward to a change that is going to take place unlike any other. I am looking forward to that time when I will take an eternal trip to the heavens. Oh, how I long for that eternal change. But why is it that we, redeemed Christians, can become so enamored with the glamor and glitz of this temporary existence that we allow the pains, joys, successes, and failures of this life to occupy our minds and hearts? Why do we stop looking for a city which has foundations whose builder and maker is God? Why are we tossed back and forth by the circumstances of this life when we know that we are not home yet? Is it because we have forgotten that this life is not our end game? Is it because we seek satisfaction and comfort in the thrills and delights of a passing planet? Saints whose minds are not set upon the the eternal city of God are very little eternal good while in this temporary abode. But we persist, we continue to forget that a great change is coming, and we begin to look at the wind and waves around us and our eyes move further from the tender gaze of our Savior, the one who died for us. And thus we begin to sink. We sink beneath the pressures of our ever-changing feelings. We bow to the pressures of this passing age. We allow our minds and hearts to be trodden down under the tyrannical rule of circumstances of life.

Oh that God would give us the eyes of Abraham, to look for that city, to seek after the eternal habitation of God. To yearn for the presence of our dear Lord and God. Thinking back to my strange desire to get into a car with my family and just drive. We have done that at times, and as we are going home later in the evening, I look back in the back seat and I see three beautiful, little ones, fast asleep. They are unaware of the dangers of other drivers, the storms that may be raging, or the reliability of the automobile. Daddy is going to get them home, nothing else has entered their minds, and so the rest. And in my heart, I think, “Almost home, we’re almost home.” Praise God, that we are almost home.