Home, a Definition; or Home is Where the Obedie Dances

I’m writing from London Heathrow, en route to Lisbon, and then on to Christian Associates’ annual staff conference. I can’t wait to return to Portugal. I have that excited/exhausted nausea from skipping across time zones during the night. I feel a bit like a little girl on those groggy mornings when I knew I was going over to play at a friend’s house that afternoon, and so awoke too early on account of happy nerves. My body is happily confused with an excited lack of sleep.

On the flight over from Baltimore, my next door seat neighbor asked me whether I was going home, or going on vacation. I said I didn’t quite know how to answer his nice question. I lived in Portugal for a little over three years, so it is like going home. But then again, I just left home, and already miss my family. These home questions are strange. (TCKs know so well.)

Not long ago, someone much smarter than I said that we’re only really “at home” when we’ve pitched a tent in the center of obedience. I think that might be the most accurate definition of “home” that I’ve ever heard. What do you think? I’ve always liked the image of our bodies as tents. I think the metaphor stretches out nicely.

(Photo of Warwick Castle by Jedi58)

7 Responses to “Home, a Definition; or Home is Where the Obedie Dances”
  1. elizabeth says:

    home is relative. it’s a fluid concept. i’ve been learning a lot about how it’s so comfortable to find my home in sin. it’s an easy, familiar place…and trusting Jesus isn’t easy or familiar. I have to find my home in Him.

    i love how the verse in Hebrews (11:9) talks about faith, and living in tents, and i think it’s safe to say that we can’t live a life of faith if we stay in our own tents.

    Faith. Trust. Yikes.

  2. dom. says:

    Hmmmm. Home.

    I’ve been asking this question in one way or another for a long time, but most concentratedly over the past 15 months.

    Home was where my friends were. Then home was going to be where God was sending me. Then I was unsure that God was sending me anywhere and I wasn’t newar my friends…

    The notion of pitching my tent at the center of obedience…I think that’s where I’ve arrived. Its not so much that, for me, making one place home and not another is obedience. Rather, it is a heart that desires to be obedient and ears open to hearing my Daddy’s voice, and then doing something with the talents which he has entrusted to me. A heart of obedience coupled with some action. That’s where my home is.

    In a few weeks, I will make Portland, OR, my new geographical home. As I look forward to it I have that little girl excited feeling too, Nelly. 🙂

    Give Portugal a hug for me. And take some photos. I miss her. Maybe someday obedience will mean Portugal for me…

  3. Sue says:

    You are lovely, Nelly! Never a dull settling for the ordinary yuck of life..yet pushing forward in what the here and now can be in Christ. Home. I will be thinking on that one and will get back to you…one of my lovelies is calling me …

  4. Jenelle says:

    You are good to point out how much we tend to find our home in the muck. I think it says in Proverbs that even a dog returns to its own vomit. I’m afraid I find myself in that passage far too often.

    Faith, trust, yikes, is right. But without the fright I think we’d die of terminal boredom. That scares me just as much.

  5. Jenelle says:

    I’m so glad you stopped by. You are a wise and honest lady. “Home was where my friends were” is one of the most honest things I’ve heard in a while.

    I’d like it, too, if obedience meant Portugal for you. And maybe, again for me…

  6. Jenelle says:

    I like it that, as you’re contemplating pitching a tent for obedience, you are obediently being a supermom and listening well to your lovelies. Isn’t that cute? And it’s all captured here on film in the blogosphere.

  7. Jenelle's Mama Rosa says:

    Home…hum…interesting subject.
    I lived 30 years in New York and never really felt it was my home. Guess deep down I always had a sense that I would someday move away. Over 20 years ago now , God moved me to Maryland. I still don’t feel its my home. I thought that maybe it was because I did not actually own a home. But after becoming a home owner my feelings never changed. What would alleviate my on-going feelings of displacement? And what does this all mean? If “Home is where your heart is” then the question is of course “Where is your heart?” One could have many answers to this. My heart is with our Lord. My heart is not in this world. My heart is with loved ones, family and friends. My heart is in Peace listening to God’s whispers telling me his Perfect Will for my life and walking in it. My heart is in Obedience, Faith, Hope and Trust. All things that keep me close to our Father God. This, I believe is truly Home for me. I strive daily to be HOME!!!

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