It is a strange feeling to be sitting in my room, staring at the empty walls and realising that it is no longer "my" room. I haven't actually lived in this room for too long but even in the few years that we've been here, I feel like I managed to put my stamp on it. It used to have pictures on the walls and the cupboards of loved ones, of fond memories and of good reminders of God's faithfulness. It used to be full of things that I found useful, pleasant and familiar. It was a place where I could just pop downstairs and have a good chat with mum and dad. It was a place where I could smell dad's good cooking or hear dad's favourite music floating through the air the morning. It was a place where mum would make sure I drank healthy juice in the morning and where she motherly looked after me by doing the laundry. Yup, I was suddenly really sad to leave. Really sad, and honestly, quite scared about where I'm going.
What makes this a home for me? Though I travel quite a lot, in comparison to some (not much in comparison to others), this was a place that I knew I would eventually come back to. In terms of having a place to stay, God has provided some amazingly hospitable friends (you know who you are and I certainly do praise God for you!). I was talking to a mother the other week whose family does a bit of moving around as well and she was saying that she had asked her kids where they thought home was. One was too young to say very much but the older said it was a place where they were all together. It was a place where the family could be together. So, is home for me where I am with my parents? Perhaps home is where one can be oneself or is it a place where one has roots or a definition that I have heard quite frequently is that home is a place where you feel you belong, where you are secure? I wonder that different people have different definitions for a home.
When people used to ask me where I was from, I would usually say Singapore. My citizenship is there, the majority of my family is there, my roots are from there, I do feel quite comfortable moving around there. What was funny, however, is that when I was there the last couple of months, many people didn't believe that I was local. I had not lived there for the majority of my life and apparently, I had an accent that confirmed that. It was the first time in a long time that I had stayed for such an extended period and though I was very happy to be there I didn't always feel like I belonged there. Someone else just reminded me of a song 'This World is Not My Home. I'm Just Passing Through'. So where is home?
Well, I like the definition that someone gave, "Home is where you are loved". I went to All Souls yesterday in London for church and one of the questions that was asked was, "Are you secure in the unfailing love of Christ?" Is my idea of home dependent on the comfort of the familiar? Is my idea of home dependent on the presence of my parents? If it is, there may be many many moments ahead that I will feel totally homeless. What is my happiness dependent on? What is my security dependent on? What is my sense of belonging dependent on? It is no wonder that when the Psalmist discovers that all that he has, wants and desires is in the Lord Himself that we find that ONE day in His courts is better than a thousand outside (Psalm 84:10). That our true Home is in His presence and no where else.
'How lovely are Thy dwelling places, O Lord of hosts! My soul longed and even yearned for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh sing for joy to the living God. The bird has also found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even Thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God. How blessed are those who dwell in Thy house! They are ever praising Thee.' (Psalm 84:1-4)
Is if 'home' is where the heart is, let our hearts be totally consecrated to God, our ultimate treasure. (Matthew 6:21, Luke12:34)
