all my life i have searched, and hunted, and tried to find a place called home, a place to be loved, and all my actions were spent seeking that place - that love.
my house is not my home, and neither is any building.
my friends have never showed me home, and neither does my heart offer any home.
i am an incomplete person - by myself.
when the pharisees asked jesus what the kingdom of heaven looked like he told the story of a young man who asks his father for his inheritance:
the young man goes to his father and asks for his inheritance, and so his father complies, and the young man leaves home and goes to the city and spends his inheritance on prostitutes and crazy parties. when his money runs out and he finds himself broke, and without food, he realizes the pigs he's feeding have a better life than him. he leaves his job, and decides to go back to his father and ask to be a slave. when his father sees him he runs out to meet him, and invites him back to the house for a great celebration.
when i was searching for a home, i was seeking love, and i found no love in others, or in any building.
i was looking for a father to embrace me and show me home. and when i was eight and accepted jesus, i caught an 8-year-old's glimpse of that home, and when i had some kind of spiritual experience on retreat throughout my youth i also caught brief glimpses of my home, but none of it stuck because i wasn't aware of what i was experiencing.
knowing God is going home.
the reason i never felt at home all around me, the reason i experienced such loneliness all throughout my teenage years was because i wasn't home. i wasn't where i belong because of one thing: heaven is my home, and i have been taken away from that place by a nasty thing called sin - the very thing that builds walls to keep me from my home.
and seeing this my jesus died to bring me home, and show me the kingdom of God can live in my heart.