I'm sitting in bed as I write this, my bed, in my home. But I'm not home. This isn't home. Even the center of my world, the gorgeous, mysterious, and mesmerizing Chapel by the Lake isn't home. And I so long to go home.
I yearn for home in a way I don't have words for. It is a deep and joyous ache, for it is a longing that will be fulfilled. It is a desire that is filled with hope. And a very non-morbid impatience. I will never chase death, but when it comes for me I will greet it like the friend it is. For it will take me home.
Earlier this week I had a conversation with a friend that challenged me. He asked so many questions about faith, truth, and perception. After having that conversation and thinking on it for a few days, I would highly recommend he read Miracles by C.S. Lewis. Everyone should read that book, but him especially. "But how do you know?" He asked, speaking of my faith. "Because it's just your perception."
But it's not. And this is where the Rabbit Hole stops bleeding into reality and replaces it. I know myself, I know what I am capable of, I know the deepest longings of my heart, and I know when I cease and another begins. I'm rather ashamed to admit that this journey with Christianity started about 12 years ago, but my journey with Christ started about three years ago. And yes, there is a huge difference. But even three years ago, when my heart burned with passion, I couldn't understand those who embraced death. I was a 'rage rage against the dying of the light' sort of girl. There was so much life to be lived! So much to be done! So much to see and experience, to taste and touch, to feel. Even in the midst of depression, some part of me raged for life. For living. It is only as I have overcome, as He has overcome through me, that this desire has taken root in my heart. My desire to be home. It is a desire my humanness renders me incapable of. I cannot desire a mystery that I do not grasp, unless it is Him in me drawing me near.
To put it another way, you cannot want something you don't know exists. Not in the 'I doubt there is a heaven' sort of not knowing it exists, but in the 'if we had been made without eyes, we would never desire to see, for it would be so entirely out of our comprehension what on earth sight would be' sort of not knowing it exists. In this world, there are hints of incomprehensible joy of God. A child's laughter, the meaning behind the words 'I love you', the comfort in a parent's arms, bacon. But only hints. Only shadows. Meant to draw us in, to pull us behind the curtain. Even so, I've only glimpsed what is behind the curtain, the true reality. And it completely, unchangingly, unbendingly, consumed my heart.
To go home, to be completely with Him is my only desire. All others have become secondary. To marry and have children, so that I might know a deeper love and be able to love Him and know Him more. To live out my life serving Him, only to show Him to the world so that more may know Him before He calls me home. And with each passing day, the desire only grows. My face has been set. On Him.
Everything else fades. He must become more, I must become less. For as this life goes on, as I surrender more and more of myself to Him, my desire to go home, to be with Him will only grow stronger. What a blessing to know that each step, each day, pulls me closer to fulfillment.
"When the hands of time wind fully down and the earth is rolled up like a scroll, the trumpets will sound and the world will bow to it's knees as we go home singing blessing and honor, glory and power, forever to our God."
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