Almost Home (but not yet home)

After nearly five months of looking on-line at hundreds of houses, visiting in person over 30 different domiciles, and putting an offer on two places (the first one had a little mold problem), tomorrow (finally oh so finally) we will gain possession of our home. 

In the last five months, we have sold our home in Kansas; moved across the country leaving behind a great church, many friends and our son; put most of our earthly possessions in a storage facility; lived for over four months in a borrowed condo of a former letter earner in two sports at Michigan State University and a week in the basement of another MSU fan (Sparties are good people, but I’m ready to wake up and holler, “This is Wolverine Country!”); endured with the rest of the brave and hardiest Michiganders the worst (or next to worst) winter on record; officiated at my own mother’s funeral and also said “Rest in Peace” to our dog;   involved in a fender bender (not my fault) and possibly hit a stop sign (my fault); dealt with health issues of Karla’s folks and released, Chronic Pain, my first book on my own health issues; all the while I have tried to learn the ropes, the faces and the rhythms of a brand new church.

I think it is safe to say we are ready to be settled in our own home.  In fact, I can’t wait. I’m anxious, nervous, expectant, and hope-filled.  Every morning I’ve been counting down the days (even hours) until we can call 6415 Wailea Court “home.” 

I think in some ways that’s how the Apostle Paul felt about heaven.  He couldn’t wait. Anxious. Nervous. Expectant. Hope-filled—Paul wrote: For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling   (2 Corinthians 5:1-2).   

Sometimes I groan for that too. The last words of the Bible express my heart on many days, “Come, Lord Jesus come!” (Revelation 22:20) 

I long for Jesus’ return. 

I long for the day when all things will be made new.

I get so tired of the current cultural wars that exist in and outside of the church.  I am increasingly finding myself on the opposite side of popular opinion. I find myself more and more labeled a hater when, in fact, I want to known as simply a follow the One who called us to love our neighbor.  I’ve grown weary of being characterized as intolerant (at best) and ignorant (at worst) because I refuse to rationalize what I believe are godly biblical standards. I want to be fighting for the things I am “for” not known for what I am “against.” I want to be an authentically hope-filled person who exemplifies what theologian Jurgen Moltman described:  “Genuine hope is not blind optimism. It is hope with open eyes, which sees the suffering and yet believes in the future.”  As I see it– our hope-filled future is in the one and only God who can make all things new. 

And so like I’ve been counting the days to get in my home, I’m counting the days for Jesus to re-create us and do a beautiful work through us.  I’m anxious, nervous, expectant and hope-filled for that day!  I can’t wait to see His Kingdom come in Flint as it is in Heaven. 

Come Lord Jesus, come!

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