Home

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The word home, like the word freedom, is easy to say and it fills most hearers with positive images. However, try to pin it down and it becomes strangely elusive. Is it just where you take off your boots at night or where you don't always have to close the bathroom door? For some it is. But prison cells fill both those requirements. Is it where your loved ones are? For some it is. But what if your loved ones are scattered all over? I called Dallas home for the entirety of my formative years but after two years living in Mexico, I have felt like a visitor here ever since. A passage from the Scriptures keeps coming back to my head and try as I might I cannot shake it

“And he went out, not knowing where he was going. By faith he went to live in the land of promise, as in a foreign land…for he was looking for the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God.”

And continuing in regards to the other saints listed in Hebrews 11 it says:

(they) “acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear they are seeking a homeland.”

For the next nine months or so, a yellow/orange vintage VW van is where I will take off my boots at night and it is where my closest loved one will also be. However neither the van nor the territory under the 18 or so flags flying over us on this trip will be home. The place I am seeking is not on any map. However, Lord willing, the roads we will travel will take us closer to that place we will truly call home.

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Photos

Leaving Dallas
Leaving home or finding it?