I sit on the bed and look out the window, watching the tree branches sway wild in the wind.
This is not my bed. Not my room, not my home. It is a guest room now; though, over a decade ago, I lit candles in the dark and strummed songs on a guitar every summer when I came home from college and called this room mine. I’ve since moved out. Got married, birthed babies, made a home of my own in a state a ways south of this one.
Yet, here I am. Thirty-five years old and living back home with my mother and two brothers. My sons and I are here for a season, and we’ll be joined by my husband at the end of summer. Wild, I know. But we moved because we’ve been following a shift and taking time to seek where the Spirit is leading us.
In this transitional season, my heart has become heavy with the idea of home. I talk and write about it all the time. I grieve the people and places I left, and I dream about where and when we will plant ourselves in a permanent, new place. Deeper still, beyond this concoction of grief and dreams, it feels like what I’m really waiting for is a home that can’t be built with brick and beams.
A lasting home — an enduring, eternal home. One that sustains and stays steady . . . can’t be shaken or taken or broken. Is immovable. Anchored.
I read my Bible on this bed that is not my own, and Matthew 8:20 tells me Jesus had no home. “Foxes have dens and birds have nests,” said Jesus, “but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head” (NIV).
And, I know. I know this world is not our home. I know that we are strangers in an even stranger land. Just passing through, only and ever looking for the city that is to come. I know that, someday, all strivings will cease, all tears will run dry, and loss will no longer be the legacy on our lips. It’s just . . . knowing that doesn’t make it any less hard to live in this world. It doesn’t magically make the waiting feel worth it. It doesn’t make the troubles disappear, or the lacking and longing evanesce into thin air.
What do we do when we can’t pray away our pining for place, for home? What do we do when we feel that pang for a permanent place of peace — of rest and relief, right in the here and now?
Maybe you didn’t move, but “home” is a hard reality. Maybe you’re still dreaming of a permanent place to call your own. Something right out of a pastoral painting — a beautiful backyard with breathtaking views.
Maybe you’re waiting for the world to change — waiting for bullets to stop breaking through bodies, waiting for the crime in the streets to cower, waiting for the cure for cancer, waiting for stability and safety in your schools, your state . . . on this whole planet.
Jesus knows what it’s like to have no home, no place to lay his head, no permanent place of peace. He knows, full well, about persecution, poverty, and placelessness. Jesus knows the transient life, living from bags and boxes, so to speak. How to be in a place and, mysteriously, how to pass through it. How to be present in the pain of this world and, yet, how to press forward for the sake of the Father’s plan.
Humbled, Jesus came. Lower than kings, lower than His own creation. Even the slyest and smallest of the animals — untrustworthy foxes and unassuming birds — have a home on this God-breathed planet. But not Jesus. Because home for Jesus was in the palm of His Father’s hand. Home for Jesus was always wherever the Father was working and moving.
Jesus lived to serve, not to stay and settle. And I wonder, am I (are we) in the world to be settled or to be servants? Are we bending with and bowing to the will of the Father? Going where He goes. Partnering with Him, place to place to place.
I am downstairs, now, sitting in a recliner passed down by my Pop, who spent most of his Sunday afternoons here in this home. Pop is home now. Home, home. And I think, what a prize it is to be settled in heaven’s home after a lifetime of following Jesus . . . living and moving and serving in His name.
I look outside the window — the whirling winds have stopped.
And, mysteriously, my yearning heart is calm now, too.
Friends — I’d love to hold space for any thoughts or aches or prayer requests you might have about home. Comment below and share a little bit about what you’re going through — I’d love to encourage you.
Rachel,
Your devotional about coming home reveals such truths and will surely touch many tender hearts,
including mine. I covet your prayers for my two adult sons that God may spur on their grieving hearts to healing. Thank you!
So glad these words met you, Kathleen. Trusting your two sons (and you) find healing in your hearts…wherever home may be.
This is so timely. As of September, I will be moving back to my adoptive home. A small town in Maine that I left 10 years ago with my husband- not my idea. He died in 2018 and I have moved from Florida, to Colorado (where my daughter lived), back to Maine but not where I wanted to be. God heard my anguished cries. They say you can’t go home, but I do not believe that. I am going where I have the most wonderful church community, friends and a support system that is beyond anything I could imagine. My 2 grown children live in different states, my only sister and her family live in another state, but family for me has always included the people in my life that I care about. I know in my heart this is where I need to be. This is where I can serve my community and make a difference. And as far as the house I bought, well let’s just say it is a bit of a fixer upper. God is GOOD.
It’s so hard having roots in so many places, missing people and hometowns and such. But perhaps we’re the ones whose capacity to love and hold has been stretched in good ways. Hoping you find this as you visit Maine (a place I love) and fix up this new (to you) house.
Rachel,
We sold our farm and home, then one month later my husband died in an accident. I know that it was God’s timing, but it still was a shock. Having a place, a home, is not going to happen, and I too feel the yearning for that city to come. Thank you for sharing about this topic of servants and service, and not to be settled in this world.
Janette, my heart goes out to you. Home isn’t just a house, it’s the people we know and love, so in a sense you’ve lost two homes at once. Grace to you as you walk this road of grief. May you find unexpected pockets of joy in the weeks and months to come.
Rachel,
I shared your devotion x3 on all platforms because I think it’s so relatable. As women sometimes our lives take detours. If we were to write our story, we would edit those chapters out!
It’s so wise of you too take comfort from scripture, knowing that the best is yet to come in our home in heaven!
Sending summer Joy,
Lisa Wilt
So very grateful for you, Lisa—for YOU and for how you spread and scatter the seeds of our words here. Trusting this encouragement to be a balm to many heavy hearts.
Rachel thank you for sharing your heart. Beautiful words. Perfect scripture. Yesterday a sister in Christ went home. So I’m kinda of feeling a bit different about home today. At peace yet…. a tender heart.
It is true, house to house is not home. Some houses feel more like home. Some not so much. We have moved so many times! My heart misses old neighbors and close adventures and beautiful views. God puts us where He wants us and if we “push the river” as we have done, He pulls us out (thank you God gracefully) and replaces us where we were supposed to be before our decision!!!
God is good \0/
Have a blessed day sisters
Yes, so many ways this word “home” tugs at our hearts. May you feel the presence and peace of God in all the places your heart stings, especially at the loss of your sister in Christ. Grace to you today, Janet.
Awww, what a beautiful summary of how God moves us, Janet. Thank you!
In light of so much happening in this world around us, there is this longing in me for my heavenly home. I know that all of this would stop and I could be at rest. The world feels so chaotic at times here and my heart feels heavy for all the things occurring in our world. As we approach another election in the months to come, it seems like we forget who really has all the power in his hands. This all feels unstable and shaky but, I keep trying to take every thought or worry right back to the safety of Jesus hands. I would love your prayers.
When I wrote this piece, I had the tension of current events (especially the election and recent shootings) in my heart. It’s such a big mix of sorrow and longing, and yet wanting to trust God that the ending will all work itself out. Through it all, Lora, may we lift our eyes and look to the one who holds the world and all power in His hands. Grace to you.
Dear Rachael…………..This story of yours touched my heart. With all the problems I have faced in the last 55 years, now the season I am in is unclear. My husband has dementia and is in a facility. He is very violent and almost killed me. I had to sell our home of 40 years that I loved, but we both needed money. I moved to a different facility which turned out to be horrible and moved again to another similar place. Thought is was better, but 2 months after I moved in, they were sold to another company and everything here changed and not for the better. Sometimes I do forget that Jesus was a human being and went through many things, which kind of calms me as my Holy Spirit is with me always and guides me; however, I still miss my home so very much and all the things I had to donate as we lived in a very large home and I was moving to a 1 bedroom apartment. WOW is all I can say about that. The women in the incourage community are like Angels to me as you always help me in some way to relate to what I am concerned or sad about. The other thing is I was married for 55 years and find it hard to live by myself in a place that most all people are in their 80’s, 90’s and even 100’s so they all have physical problems or mental issues and I try to make friends with everyone as that is the way I have always been, but so many people can’t hear almost anything, but we don’t know that just moving in. Thank you Rachael for your story I will read it again this afternoon. I always do that as the second time I read all of your stories I gleen something more than the first time. Prayers and love to you and your family and if you can tell me anymore about all my moves and my house that I can’t even bear to drive by as I know they will probably completely change things. Again I thank you for your wisdom and for helping older people like me. When I was 50 and had a great job that I loved, I never thought about how things would be in my 70’s and higher if the Lord keeps me on Earth…………………………..Betsy Basile
Betsy, I hope you allow yourself moment to grieve the many little and big losses you know in terms of home. The losses are no small thing. Homes matter. Homes are so important. (I wrote about this in my book). Though the Lord is our comfort, it’s okay to acknowledge we’ve lost little comforts along the way. Sometimes I just want a “home” that makes my life easy—no stress or strain. Just ease. In due time, that will all come in a heavenly home. For now, though, we acknowledge that we don’t have that…and find comfort in knowing Jesus surely felt the same. Thank God we’re all ever on the way.
This was such a timely message for me. After my husbands death in 2023 so many decisions have been made. I now live in another state, staying with family until I find a place to live, I am 76 years old and trying to adjust to the new. I know that home is wherever God is, and your statement about being settled vs. serving is true. I want what God has for me because His plan is always best. He is faithful and trustworthy.
Brenda, though our stories are different, you and I are both learning how to live in news spaces…spaces that belong mainly to someone else. May you know and sense your deep belonging and security comes from One only. Grace to you, as you navigate this season ahead. You are held.
I was just talking with God about this very thing this morning. I, too, long for a home that is perfect, where I will be completely known, and free to love and serve my Lord in all the ways He intends for me!
Our home right now is changing at breakneck speed with our oldest daughter getting married over the weekend and our youngest daughter heading to college next week. I also care for my mom who has a long list of health issues and an even longer list of opinions. Life truly is a concoction of grief and dreams right now. My head knows many things: that greater things are to come with my daughter and new son, that my youngest will grow in incredible ways at college, and that God will bring exciting new opportunities my way to serve Him that I can’t even imagine. But right now, my heart’s just a little sad. And I am grateful that in the palm of His hand, I am home, no matter the changing landscape of that earth-side.
I feel every word of this—home changing at a breakneck pace. Wishing you the faith to believe you have permission to grieve these things…and permission to slow down and soak it all up. I think that is one thing I’m learning. One month from now, I may miss where and who I am now. But if I slow down now to savor it, at least I’ll know I held it while I had it. Wishing the same for you through all these changes.
Hello Rachel,
I’m glad you are visiting with your Mom. I enjoy talking with my Mom who is 83 years wise.
I’m the Mom of three daughters and it warms my heart to see them grow mature.
My husband and I are quite different. He is a small businessman and I am his secretary. It’s not easy to say no to your spouse who is your supervisor. We are not on the same page financially. I have several loans that I pay on my own. I would like to Pray for generosity from my spouse.
Thank you for listening.
Brenda
Your writing is what I need to help calm my jarring and unfocused thoughts about home. In a stage of grief, my days are spent yearning and praying for God’s relief. I find myself thinking of the past, of my home when life was seen through the eyes of my younger self. My heart is pulling me towards His comfort. I need the newness that comes after grief has changed my mind and soul. Thank you for your beautiful gift of writing what my heart feels.
thank you for your post. my mom lived with dementia for 10 years. the last year or so of her life she would always say she wanted to go home. at first i used to respond you are home. but then it occurred to me she wanted to go HOME. i always felt she could go HOME any time she wanted but her earthly body seemed to want to stay here longer. after 12 mths of hospice care she went HOME. i like to think she is once again dancing in her bobby socks and saddle shoes.
I think it is time for my mom to go home to Jesus. I pray that it’s a peaceful journey and that I can let her know that it’s OK to go and I will be OK.
I desperately miss our previous home (our first home together) – it was a place of healing, fellowship. We’d never lived in a neighborhood like it. We had beautiful small lakes throughout the community. I loved driving in the front entrance, down cobblestone roads. I loved the sound it make under the tires, the peace that I felt entering our neighborhood, home. I loved watching the birds, seeing the children play, feeding the fish, walking the neighborhood, seeing fireworks from the hill, praying over the children walking to school as I drove to work, driving past my favorite house with the teal door. Spending slow time with our neighbors in the culdesac. We were only there 14 months but it’ll probably be the best 14 months of our lives. I’m so immensely blessed and thankful for that time!!!
I am 77 and will soon be 78. I am very lonely. My husband and I live in a home that is not our’s. He is a good Christian man, but never really talks to me. My two good friends never check on me. I know they have their own lives and problems, but I do miss them. I suffer seasons of depression and anxiety and have a debilitating back condition which forces me to spend most of my days on my back for relief. I was always so strong and healthy most of my life. I have no children of my own, but my husband has 3 grown ones, two of whom lived with us for 20 years. I never hear from them. My husband and I served faithfully in our church for 25 years but had to leave when it became very condemning and controlling. My husband and I live on a very limited fixed income from social security and have no savings. I don’t even know who or how would take care of our final expenses or do our funerals when one or both of us pass on. I pray for our families, friends and neighbors daily. I look to the Lord Jesus for His ever present help. I know He is with us and hears our prayers. In the meantime I trust in Him. But would appreciate your prayers as well. God bless you all!
I pray for healing as I have been going through some health struggles over the past few years with symptoms that are all over the place and don’t seem to add up to anything definite.
Rachel…those who love God, follow God, and, with all their might, attempt to live their life pleasing to God, faces a (inner) world of persecution. You see, persecution is a deliberate act, a purposeful mistreatment aimed at someone for their beliefs, such as Stephen’s persecution imprinted permanently in Scripture as an instructional aid. What we fail to realize, Stephen’s name in Hebrew, “tsaphirah,” definitionally means diadem — a wreath, or garland, encircling the head of a ruler.
Now, from mankind’s Fall, when a bite of the wrong fruit, that is, a juicy, scrumptious, tasteful crunch of a lie, was immensely enjoyed; subjectively, our hearts became separated between good and evil — two opposing sides facing off at the Space (battleground) of the Parallel, and, ever since, we’ve been left fighting to fill in the empty blank. What I have discovered in my search to fill in the empty blank is this space of nothingness is actually a void where God, who built His home directly in the middle of my heart, should live. As I diligently studied the workings of our hearts, I discovered our hearts, directly in their center beings, house a tiny brain, made up of thousands upon thousands of cognitive cells, which thinks independently from our actual brains. This is exactly why God informs us in Psalm 4:23, ‘Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it springs the issues of life.’
With this being said, God created us in the image of Himself, passionate hearts endowed with many emotions, and believe you me, our emotions speak volumes, and, without a doubt, they are our own worst enemies. Our emotions are the voices inside our heads which we listen to over God. At the moment of our births, that is, our Fall to earth, untrustworthy voices, internally and externally, intervene, breaking the sound barriers of our righteous hearts which He created in His image. Words, as such, create thoughts, and these thoughts, whether righteous or unrighteous, move up to our minds and encircle our heads like a leafy vine. Our vine, if you will, our crown of many jewels (wisdom) signets Who/who produces the thoughts inside our hearts, God, or self. Sadly, akin to Stephen, the people (emotions) of our hearts stone us unto spiritual death (black depression), until we lie unfeelingly inside the tomb of our hearts; smothered under the blackness of dark days, dark thoughts, and dark feelings.
God has a home this side of heaven in which we can go, and this home is deep inside our inner beings where He resides amidst the many rooms of buried treasures. In order to unearth Him and His mysteries, we have a large battle to win; specifically, known as the battle of our warring emotions. You see, there are twelve gates of blood flow in and out of our hearts, akin to Jerusalem’s gates, and our emotions are the divided nations warring at the city’s gates. Now, this does not mean God wants us to destroy our emotions, for He is a God of feelings, and, as such, without feelings we are rendered spiritually dead (depressed). Submissively, God desires for us to train our emotions, moving the evil ones over to the side of goodness. In doing so, we build a strong platoon of righteous warriors who are able to overcome the evil darkness, thus, externally, our countenance is lifted, and our faces reflect our mighty God. Once we’ve won this battle, we are at home with our God, and the rivers of our heartlands can flow peacefully this side of heaven.
Rachel,
My dad moved us 8 times while I was growing up. Never really got to have a “hometown” of sorts. For the last twenty years my hubby & I have lived in the same house & town. It feels like home to us. Family is in different states. I don’t get to see my sisters at all. Like most women here my family is my church home.
As I age I’m starting to feel homesick for Heaven. Can’t wait to see Jesus, my parents, pets & friends. Living with & Praising God forever,
Blessings 🙂