Going Home

Contrary to popular belief, I’m a homebody. I love the stability of always knowing what to expect out of tomorrow. I love the security of my routine, and to be honest, I really, really hate change. But there’s a God who has stolen my heart, and He loves me too much to leave me the way I am. He’s rearranging the little nuances of my heart and transforming them into the desires of His own. Therefore, I must let go.

So here I am, with my complacency behind me and the unknown before me. And though I never thought I would ever be “cut out” for this kind of devotion - I much preferred the Christianity that stays within my personal preferences and presents no requirement of sacrifice - there’s something comforting about this place. Perhaps it is not the comfort of normalcy that is truly home, but the uncertainty of surrender. I am NOT home yet. Therefore, I must go.

There’s something about the contentment of routine that is deceptive. We, as selfish human beings, can be so easily deceived into thinking that there is nothing more beyond our achievement of sustainable comfort. Perhaps it’s this deception that Jesus warned the disciples about:

"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it. What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?” -Mark 8:34-36

It is here, in the complacency of the homes we have boxed ourselves into, that we can so easily gain the whole world. But if we never take Him seriously - if we never go, if we never proclaim boldly, if we never deny ourselves and lose our lives for His sake and the sake of the gospel, than we will lose everything else. There is a God who has called us to radical commitment, unreasonable sacrifice, and unparalleled devotion. And there, within the uncertainty of surrender, is hope. Hope for eternity. Hope in knowing that our lives are worthwhile. Hope that in the midst of our sacrifice will be great gain, for today and for eternity. I cannot take this hope lightly. Therefore ... I can’t say no.

Am I afraid? Yes. I’m naive, inexperienced and I have no idea what lies ahead. But strangely enough, that’s not what I’m afraid of. I’m scared of staying. I’m scared of remaining here in my own complacency and never taking hold of the true purpose so graciously granted to me. I’m terrified of missing the marvelous things that He is leading me into the middle of. I am far more afraid of staying than I am afraid of going. I choose to go because I believe that a day is approaching in which my complacency will be shaken to pieces by a Kingdom that will stand forever. If I wish to overcome the power of my complacency, then I cannot shrink back. I must pursue this Kingdom with everything within me, or on that day, I will lose everything. Therefore, I cannot stay. Because great things occur in the midst of surrender.

So, here I go. And I’m not coming back, because I’m headed home. If I do return, I won’t be the same, and I won’t be back for long. I have been compelled. And so have you. Therefore, we must take hold. We must keep watch. We must pray. And we must change the world. There is no turning back. But only a coward would want to.

“There is a faith proved of more worth than gold, so refine me, Lord, through the flame ...”

“Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful. And pray for us, too, that God may open a door for our message, so that we may proclaim the mystery of Christ, for which I am in chains. Pray that I may proclaim it clearly, as I should. Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.” - Colossians 4:2-6