I’ll Be Home for Christmas

I am a self-professed homebody. Give me pajamas, a warm fire, cozy blankets, creamy coffee, and a good book (or, even better, my laptop so I can write a blog post).

We all crave security. A place to belong. Permanence. We want – and need – the comfort and emotional release that come from having a place where we can let down our guard and escape the pressures of life while being surrounded by people, pets, or things we hold dear.

In other words, we’re all born wanting Home.

Tragically, for so many, their version of home is not a safe haven. The very idea of home can become tainted and marred by violence, sickness, and turmoil. In reality, very few people will have a “Norman Rockwell” Christmas this year.

Though the details are foggy, I recently read about a museum (the Tenement Museum in New York City, perhaps?) that features to-scale replicas of living conditions inside refugee camps. Of all places to call home, it would be hard to imagine a spot more inhospitable than a makeshift village where residents are exposed to the elements and displaced from their homes while facing uncertain futures after unimaginable physical and/or psychological trauma. The very definition of such a place – temporary accommodation for people who have been forced to flee their home because of violence and persecution – reveals it’s temporary. Transient. Unstable. It lacks almost everything we look for in a home.

And yet, the author noted that a common feature inside most refugee camp tents was neatness and order. Beds are made, clothes and other belongings are folded neatly. There is a deep-seated human longing to make wherever we land feel as much like Home as possible.

Every time I come to write a post about my faith, I wait nervously for divine inspiration. There is much to say and I am no theologian or scholar. Yet, without fail, a theme naturally emerges. This Christmas, home is on my mind.

Home has not always felt like a secure place for our family the last few years, so my heart is especially sensitive to evaluating the role of home in our lives – both the physical structure and the relationships within and without.

One evening last week Indy and I headed to the final choir rehearsal for Christmas Eve services. Music is a big part of our family culture and the kids generally love car rides because they have an opportunity to make specific Spotify requests. Before we had even pulled out of the driveway, he asked to play Church (Take Me Back) by Cochren & Co; this sounds very pious for a 10-year-old but he has an extremely broad and eclectic mix of music tastes.

So en route to church, we listened to a poignant song about…church.

I was running, I was searching
But every place I turned for healing
Left me more broken than the last

Take me back
To the place that feels like home
To the people I can depend on
To the faith that’s in my bones
Take me back
To a preacher and a verse
Where they’ve seen me at my worst
To the love I had at first
Oh, I want to go to church

Tried to walk on my own but I wound up lost
Now I’m making my way to the foot of the cross
It’s not a trophy for the winners
It’s a shelter for the sinners
And it’s right where I belong

And the journey to that cross started in a cave in Bethlehem.

This Christmas I’m thankful for the gift of three special homes.

HOME (PHYSICAL)

What a blessing to have a home. Both a tangible space to call my own, and the relational comfort of knowing I am loved and have people to love.

HOME (SPIRITUAL)

Church. For those with different (or no) faith backgrounds or for those who grew up in legalistic or abusive church environments, it might be impossible to think of church as a second home. I consider myself to be infinitely blessed to have a church that really and truly feels like home.

As lovelytheband would say: These are my people, these are my friends. And we’re better together.

This little fella really makes himself at home at church!

HOME (ETERNAL)

This world is not my home
I’m just a-passing through
My treasures are laid up
Somewhere beyond the blue

The angels beckon me
From heaven’s open door
And I can’t feel at home
In this world anymore

Jim Reeves, anyone?

Earth doesn’t feel like home. As a Christ-follower I believe we will live on after death and the longer I live and the more news reports I read, the less I’m able to “think to myself what a wonderful world.” (Sorry, Louis).

I’m ready to go Home with a capital “H”. This is not a death wish or some morbid fascination to be rid of the encumbrances of life. I care for my body and mind and do all that I can to stay healthy. But I can’t deny the unshakeable feeling that I was created for something more and that something better awaits. That, as Blaise Pascal referenced, there is a God shaped hole in my soul and regardless of how and what I try to fill it with, it will never be perfectly matched until I reach Heaven.

Everything I’ve written above was swirling in my head during choir practice (yes, I still managed to sing…parenting hasn’t taught me how to multitask for nothing) and I felt like I couldn’t possibly come up with the “right” words to share in this space.

And then I realized: I don’t need to say any more words this Christmas. I can simply live out my faith. In how I think and act and talk. Maybe, someday, someone will see something unique about my life and will ask about what has made all the difference.

And until I go to my final Home, the answer will always the same. Jesus.

Wherever you are, however you’re celebrating – Merry Christmas. I hope you are surrounded by people you love, in a home that is safe and warm. If that’s not your reality this Christmas, I hope joy finds you in a myriad of unexpected ways and that the New Year brings healing and hope.

*If you’re interested in having a Christmas Eve service to watch tonight, please send me an e-mail and I’ll pass along the information for the live stream of our church concert (Indy and I are both singing!).

Header photo by Nathan Anderson on Unsplash