And that's amazing and all- and believe me, no one is more psyched than me that my time in Stafford is coming to a close (since I'll go straight to Gordon after my time at Base Camp ends), but I realized something. Though several beautiful and terrible revelations have come to me this summer that are worth writing about, I've recorded all but none of them. Sure, I've journaled and talked with a few dear friends, but I've almost stopped using the one cathartic method that's always been my standby, and it makes me sad because I probably won't be able to for a while.
What's with me? Is it because the powerful, awe-inspiring truths that God has revealed about His character this summer are just too intimidating to try and capture on this measly page? Because deep down, I don't really believe anyone out here would want to know what's happening in my heart and mind? Because I still doubt every day whether my life is worth writing about?
Yes. Yes. And yes. Unfortunately.
But inspiration struck! In a lovely twist of fate, I read something (duh) that reminded me of a sweet truth that always strums a strong chord within me, and cried because I hadn't felt it in a while.
I don't belong here in Virginia. Or at Gordon. Or in Okinawa, or California, or anywhere. I've never had a place I steadfastly called home, and it's been this dull sorrow that never really goes away. But in those moments, I remember that awesome, mind-blowing truth that- neither does anyone else, because God tells us that our kingdom is not of this world. We're never really home... until we're with Him.
But it doesn't stop there. For the past ten days, I visited my family in California for the first time in two years, and guess what? I've never lived there in my life, but I was home. It was this rich, loving moment when I felt surrounded by the people I love and connect with most and thinking, these are my people; this is what I've been missing. They're home to me. My parents and brother are home.
When I think about marriage, I think about having a home in my husband. I think about how every time he walks into a room, I might not necessarily always feel butterflies, but I'll feel safety and comfort and belonging and... home.
Jesus is my home. He's all those things. He's safety and belonging and unconditional love and utter knowledge and understanding of my inner being. I long to be understood, sought-after, and cared for, and He perfectly fulfills all those desires like the true Prince He is.
Which is probably why, when this song by Bethel Music comes on in my car, I instinctively blast the volume, belt the bridge with all of my vocal strength, and get shivers down my spine (and occasionally cry) when I remember how perfect and complete my Home already is.
It will not, it will never be enough
just to know about You Jesus, and never call You my own
For my heart was made for love, I can't live without You Jesus
