One of the things I grew to appreciate about my parents was their commitment to consistently discipline my sister and me when we did things that we weren’t supposed to do. As a child, though, I can’t say I had the same type of warm, fuzzy feelings to the ramifications of punishment. Often time, when my dad would send me to my room as he pondered what those consequences would be, I would start crying even before I knew the outcome. I knew I had done something wrong, I knew that my behavior was going to be corrected, and amidst the tears and clutching my pillow, I would sometimes find myself uttering, “I want to go home.” I never knew why I said that while I was sitting in the relative comfort of my own my room until I was older and understood that while I was at my house, nothing in this world is truly home. Even though as a child I couldn’t make sense of my words, my soul longed for the place where sin was no more; my soul longed for my heavenly home.
This is an important thing to remember. Despite what Aerosmith may have told us, life is not a journey, it is a destination. What really matters in this life are the things that will matter for eternity. The sweet promises of our Heavenly home should be what prompt us to make the hard choices, go the distance and sacrifice our comfort in order to bring Christ glory. We’re going home. A home where there will be no more tears, no more pain, and where we will finally be at peace.
As anyone who has been on a long journey knows, the process of going home after an arduous trip is something that is joyfully anticipated. May the same be true of the journey to our true Home.