Horror. Disbelief. Shock. Overwhelming sadness.
This week some of the members of my ever-growing church family, the people whom God has called my husband and I to love, to point to Jesus, and to encourage suffered a violent tragedy that is hard to comprehend. Difficult to accept. And because they are related by heart and not by blood, we are not given the stillness needed to grieve. We must carry on with our day-to-day activities while the heart and soul are in pain, and life continues with difficulty. From the messages and news articles shared, many are grieving.
What a more-often-than-not sad place earth is. Truly a valley of tears. Of confusion. Of strife. Of suffering. Is this all there is? Can’t be! Feels foreign. Like it wasn’t meant to be this way. Earth, as it is, can not be my home.
And it’s not!
In the words of a song by Building 429, I’m not home yet. This is not where I belong. Take this world and give me Jesus. This is not where I belong.
Earlier this morning as I opened the patio door to let our dog out, I was moved by the darkness outside. The morning air felt cool and refreshing stirring something within me. I turned the patio door light off and my eyes were drawn to the sky above. The full moon was reflecting beautifully the sun’s light down to us, and there were countless number of stars sparkling all around as if the sky was filled with tiny diamonds, but better. Orion, that faithful constellation, to the south. I stayed there by the open patio door with my eyes glued to the incredible beauty above me. In the midst of the ever-present sounds of this more populated area of the world, and the thoughts running through my mind trying to make sense of it all, my heart began feeling at peace. And the words of another song replaced my sad thoughts: we have this hope that burns within our hearts. Hope in the coming of the Lord.
There it is. Home!
So we’re not home yet, but one day we will be, and this assurance replaces the sadness with joy and calm.
Therefore we do not lose heart. Although things in the world are becoming worse and wasting away, inwardly we are being renewed day by day. These are light and momentary troubles, and are nothing compared to the eternal glory we will one day get to experience. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. What is seen, the mess and confusion around us, is temporary. What is unseen is eternal. (II Corinthians 4: 16-18)
We join the cloud of witnesses of Hebrews 11 and 12 and continue our journey through earth with this burning hope within our hearts, longing for a better place, a heavenly one, beyond the full moon and the Orion. We run with perseverance the path marked for us with our eyes fixed on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, so we won’t grow weary and lose heart.
Yes, we’re not home… yet. One day we will be. And that’s hope! Beautiful, joy giving, hope.
