Home is Where God Is
I rang in the new year of 2019 lying on a hospital bed, wondering if I would survive the night. My eight-year-old daughter sat beside me, and I did my best to prepare her for the possibility that I might not make it. You can never truly prepare for the enormity of losing someone that precious, but in those tender moments, God gave us a peace that passes all understanding (Philippians 4:7).
After ten hours in the emergency room, I was admitted for observation. I can think of a thousand better places to celebrate the start of a new year, but in that moment, I wanted only one thing—to go home.
Between the needle pokes and the unfamiliar ultrasound images, I prayed over and over: Lord, please bring me home.
Obedience in Sickness
I trusted that God’s will would prevail, so I endured each step of the process. A radiologist explained the next procedure—a contrast dye that would rush through my veins, creating a warm wave that would feel like I had wet myself. “Don’t worry,” she added gently, “that’s just how it will feel.”
Like a lamb led to slaughter, I lay still, closed my eyes, and let the machine do its work. To quiet the noise in my mind, I whispered the same prayer again and again: I love You, Jesus. Please, Father, bring me home.
Longing for Home
That night, “home” simply meant my own bed, my own space. But I’ve learned that longing for home isn’t always about my eternal Home—it’s often about wanting safety and rest in the moment.
Weeks later, driving my daughter through a snowstorm on icy roads, I prayed the same prayer: Lord, bring us home. The blinding mix of snow and rain left me unable to see ahead. All that mattered was reaching the place where I felt safe.
Yet, more often than not, when I finally get home, I find a comfortable familiarity—but not contentment. After the hospital, the undone chores, the barking puppy, my daughter’s impatience, and the weight of upcoming responsibilities quickly pushed me back into weariness.
The place I longed for left me longing for more.
So Easily Pleased
Most people want happiness. Few know where to find it. Some chase it through money, success, relationships, pleasure, or distraction. But these pursuits become idols if they take the place of God.
While signing my hospital discharge papers, I asked the nurse if he knew Jesus. He told me about times God had spared his life, and how sad it was that so many people didn’t know Him. He also said that before a multimillion-dollar renovation, patients’ biggest complaint was small rooms. After the upgrade—private rooms, modern décor, even family sleeping areas—complaints didn’t stop. Now, they just wished for a waterfront view.
It reminded me of C. S. Lewis’s piercing words:
“We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us… We are far too easily pleased.”—C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
Exile-Bound Hearts
Our restless longing is nothing new. From Genesis to Revelation, the Bible tells the story of humanity’s exile—beginning in Eden and echoing through Israel’s Babylonian captivity. We are sojourners, longing for our true homeland.
I’ve lived that feeling. Years ago, I was an expatriate in Europe, never quite fitting in. I missed home—yet, when I returned, I still felt incomplete. I was home, but not Home.
Lewis captured this mystery well:
“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”—C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
I know this truth deep in my soul: I will not be fully content until I am with God forever. Yet the wondrous gift is this—God is with me here and now.
The Already and the Not Yet
Paul writes, “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21). I walk each day in that tension—the joy of knowing God here on earth and the hope of being with Him for eternity.
One day, “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore” (Revelation 21:4). Until that day, I will love God above all, love the people He places in my life, and walk in humble obedience, knowing He carries me through it all.
Immanuel—God With Us
Jesus said, “It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by his own authority” (Acts 1:7). I don’t know when He will call me to my eternal Home. But I know this: here on earth, I have Immanuel—God with us (Matthew 1:23). And when that day comes, I will have God my Father forever.
Either way, I’m home.
Because home is where God is.
