Home Again

We enter this world as strangers in a strange land. From the moment the umbilical cord is cut, and our lungs are cleared to breathe, we cry out instinctively because we already live in a vacuum.
To be tended to by loving parents will surely help keep the innate pain to a bare minimum. Being held close to a mother’s breast and receiving the utmost of care by a strong father will meet many of the deepest needs of that child, but there will still always be that one canyon-size hole in the soul that no amount of tender loving attention will be able to cure.
God created within us an unconquerable restlessness that will only be fully satisfied by discovering our home in Him. If one examines the address of origin written in an indelible ink upon our hearts, he or she will soon discover that if we are ever found in the dead letter office of humanity, the instructions are clear to please return us to the sender.
Only the one who made us can properly place us in the position where we were destined to shine. Eventually, all of us need to go home again.
How do we get there? First, we have to make sure that our parcel is not purposely sabotaged and buried in a pile of forgotten presents.
Second, we need people who are passionate about seeing lost packages properly delivered to the right party.
Third, we have to be perfectly positioned with our eyes wide open so that we don’t miss the magic.
Finally, there are a plethora of memories to be made for those who are willing to come together and put a priority on the lives of the people we need to be partnering with rather than wasting away our precious moments on projects that just don’t amount to much.
We can’t be signed, sealed and delivered without a committed effort. There are way too many naysayers who are content to let the living letters of life be left unread.
When there is not the proper value placed upon the masterpiece that every individual is, the population buys into the lie that people are nothing more than junk mail rather than special delivery. It takes a need for a hero to be called.
It takes faith for someone to rise and accept the risk. It takes humility to work together as a united team.
It takes a little divine chemistry for all the diverse character traits to operate in true unity and harmony. But when it happens, history is altered for the better.
If we surrender our tendency always to have to be in a hurry, and if we learn how to pray in such the way that we will trust the timing, and if we are willing to be patient enough to listen before we leap, miracles may be there for us right on the horizon.
But we have to stop treating this race as one where only those who come in first win the prize. It’s not about a position that determines a winner, but about partnering together so that all will cross the finished line in a victorious fashion.
We need the deep thinkers and the technologically savvy. We need those who are wise as serpents and yet as innocent as doves. We need those who aren’t afraid to exhibit the wonder of children while still being mature in their total behavior.
We need to come together and break bread while sharing a kombucha smoothie and a bottle of Yoo Hoo.
Some days we need to resist the temptation to email or text and break out the pen and paper and sit right down and write ourselves a note that contains our blood, sweat, smiles, and tears. We won’t write the memoirs that realize the fullness of our hope and our future without being willing to let the ink of our souls sink in deep.
If you want it easy, apply elsewhere. If you want to witness the view from what the world looks like from higher ground, then roll the dice and see if it doesn’t bring you to the threshold of that one in a million adventure.
I am not settling for a tomorrow that only plays it safe. How do we genuinely ever know if we would be lost without another if we aren’t willing to let them go so we can give them a legitimate chance to allow their love to lead them back where they belong?
We all have enough excuses to never get out of bed again. We have all been burned, bruised, broken and busted. Nobody would blame us if we settled for the cushy position of status quo.
Yet when the noise of this world’s volume is finally on mute, we can still hear the music of our native tongue. God has put eternity in our beings.
Life is like an obstacle course, but when we are willing to suit up rather than space out, we discover that everything we have been looking for is right before our very eyes. And so it goes for those who are willing to dance.
And if I can prevent you from putting down roots in a ground that bears no fruit, then I am game if it stops you from pulling up lame. I have seen the joy of a beloved homecoming. I have cried the tears that have fallen because of tasting the complete satisfaction of reunion. I am greedy for more.
What some have deemed not fit for the system still need to know the sweet grace of salvation. So stop, oh yes, wait a minute Mr. Postman, and check and see one more time for me, if there’s a letter in your bag not only for me, but from me. The next letter may be the right letter that leads us all home where we belong.    
ED. NOTE: The author is the senior pastor of The Lighthouse Church, 1248 Route 9 South, Court House.