Yesterday I saw this on Twitter: I just wanna go home, wherever it is … The writer was a young Indian woman and an author with over 21K followers. But her age, background, and success at her vocation fades into irrelevancy beside the plaintive cry of her heart.
Those simple words struck through the heart of me because I remember as a child, sometimes, out of nowhere would come an inexplicable longing, and wherever I was, even if with my family at home, I too would say aloud to no one in particular: “I wanna go home.” And the moment I said it sadness would flood my soul and I would be reminded of the absence of something or someone vital to my well-being. But I couldn’t define what it was. Or who it was.
The feeling would recur throughout my young adulthood too, but with one difference. I began to understand what that longing was all about. Home. The place where I am welcome. The place where I’m not a stranger to anyone. The place where I belong. The place where I am loved. Completely. Unconditionally.
I understood that this home would never be found in the world around me were I to travel to the ends of the earth. I also felt this home could never be found, that I would live with this emptiness, this sense of hopelessness at never entering this undiscoverable place. It seemed I would die never having found it.
Until the day Jesus found me. Yes. He found me. I had stopped looking. He had not stopped looking for me. And in the instant He found me, I found my home. He was my home. I don’t think I understood the full import of that realization in that moment.
But over time I did.
Over time I discovered that not only had I come home but Jesus, my God and my Savior, had made Himself at home within me. Wherever I am, whatever my circumstances, He is here to stay. He will never leave me or forsake me even when I wander away from Him.
That is not to say that I don’t long for the day when He returns or that I don’t recognize that heaven is my ultimate home when I will see Him with my own eyes and not by faith as I do now. But home is here and now because He is with me at the same time that home is a destination, the end of my pilgrimage here on earth. My parents are at home at that destination in that place, heaven.
Yet for now, Jesus is my home and He has made His home in me. The presence of the Holy Spirit unites me to Him who sits on the throne at the right hand of God the Father, and before Him stand my mother and my father and the countless saints who have reached the end of their pilgrimage on earth.
I never say I wanna go home anymore. That longing is gone, replaced by a longing to tell others of Jesus, especially when I can hear their heart’s cry for home. And sometimes you can hear this cry among those who worship in church with you.
Has Jesus found you? Have you heard His voice and found your home in Him? Then tell the world of Jesus. Listen for that low cry of longing hearts. And respond in His love, with the compassion and the eagerness of someone who has come home.
“For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.”