I’m always amazed when I hear that someone has worked for the same company for 25, 30, 40 years. It really amazes me. That someone could stay with the same company for such a long time, growing up, of sorts, in the same environment, to me, is quite an accomplishment. Of course, the longest I’ve ever worked for a company is six years and that’s my current place of employment. In fact, I’m going on seven years with the same company and the same position. It’s weird to me. Not that working for the same company is bad. It’s just so foreign to me. Before this job, I was, at most, in the same company for no more than three years.
I’ve also been fascinated by people who were born, grew up and live and work in the same area as well. I’m fascinated when I find generations of the same family who have grown up in the same area. The kids may have gone off to college, but they come back home to work and raise their families.
I think it is a wonderful thing to have such roots. I don’t have those kinds of roots, though. Now, I was born and lived in the same area for the first nineteen years of my life. I lived in the same house for most of that time as well. I went to school from first through twelfth at the same school. But then we (my parents, brother and one sister and I) moved to California shortly after I graduated from high school and I’ve never lived in the same place for that long since.
There have been times when I longed for such roots, being able to call a place home with all the trappings and accouterments. After all these years, I am coming to the understanding it is not to be for me. I may call a place home for a while, but there will be no roots attached there. Call me nomad, wanderer, drifter, possibly.
I used to wonder why I seemed destined to never have a place to really call my own, a place where my roots could go deep. So many people I knew had places like that, places they called home and meant it. I would visit and enjoy their establishments. And they were established, settled into their community. I would visit and then leave. Temporary, just a memory.
I’m beginning to understand, now, though. And I am coming to accept that I am just a traveler here. I really am a nomad. I’m only passing through here; here being this world, this time. When Christ made me his own, He made me a foreigner to this land, this world. My citizenship changed. As such, there is no establishing of roots here for me.
That is not to say that all who follow Christ will not be able to settle down here. Jeremiah 29:4-7 says “Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”
We, too, are exiled here, until Christ returns. There will be some who He leads to settle, become rooted and established. There will be some, of which I am one, who will be destined to wander, to roam, never having roots. And that’s OK. I’m learning to find my home wherever I may be, because my home is with Christ, in Christ.
It hasn’t been easy. There have been times I wanted to settle down, find a little corner of the world and stay there, hidden away, particularly with all the madness in the world. But Christ reminds me that is not to be my way and He helps me to pick up and move on. And it’s not without purpose. He has purpose in my wanderings, just as He has purpose in some settling down. I may not always understand or know the purpose, but that’s not important. What’s important is realizing that I’m at home with Christ wherever I may find myself, wherever He may lead me. Whether I have a small apartment or house, or just a room with a cot where I can lay my head, it will be sufficient, it will be home.
My journey isn’t over yet, either. I’ve not reached my destination, so I remain the nomad. Interesting, when I said I would “go”, I never realized my whole life has actually been one of “going.” That changes my concept of missionary considerably.
I saw “The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian” recently. I loved the movie, the rich symbolism, the message, and, as is often the case, was enthralled by the music. I downloaded the soundtrack and play it on my ipod now. One song, in particular, spoke to me and maybe even prompted this whole train of thought. In any case, it seemed appropriate for this post and so I found the video and I hope you can enjoy it here as well. Until we are all finally home.
…And now after all
My searching
After all my questions
I’m gonna call it home
I got a brand new mindset
I can finally see
The sunset
I’m gonna call it homeThis is home
Now I’m finally
Where I belong
Where I belong
Yeah, this is home
I’ve been searching
For a place of my own
Now I’ve found it
Maybe this is home
Yeah, this is home.
Switchfoot – This Is Home – Chronicle of Narnia:Prince Caspian Soundtrack
All Things Elda 