Home

Where I consider home has never really changed in my life.  I was born in West Allis, Wisconsin, grew up in West Allis, lived in the same house, etc.  If someone asked me, "Where's home for you?"  Without any hesitation I'd say West Allis.  This past week, I spent four days in Madison where I lived for five years catching up with friends and setting up support meetings.  As I walked down familiar streets and into familiar buildings and houses, it felt as if I'd never left.  Recognizable sights and smells (unfortunately) filled my senses.  What is it about visiting a memory that makes our reality clearer, forces time into existence?  College students looked like little children to me, walking to classes like robots programmed to pursue the American Dream without a second thought.  This part of my life has past away and I left that graveyard of broken dreams with bittersweet feelings.  I would not be who or where I am today if I hadn't gone to UW-Madison and met the people I met.  For that, I praise God!

While in Madison, I met with a friend who brought up a new idea of the word "home."  He told me that he wants to live life as if his "home" is one where he is walking closely with Jesus, whether that's in prayer or reading the Bible, this home is not one built by bricks and wood, but rather by his relationship with Christ.  I really liked his idea of what home was to him.  If that were my definition of where my home is, it wouldn't be limited to where I was geographically but rather where my heart was spiritually.

While I was spending some time at the MOB (mansion of brothers, the house I lived in for 3 years in Madison), I found a book called The Treasure Principle written by Randy Alcorn.  As I had some time in between meetings, I started reading the first chapter.  It described the parable in Matthew 13:44.  A man is traveling on a journey, sandals are the only comfort for his tired and scraped feet, hot sun is beating down on his sweaty face, he walks through a strangers field on a worn path to cut the distance like other travelers before him, his staff in hand is the only support for his every step.  As he takes another step, his big stick hits something metal.  He looks down, wipes the dirt off the shiny surface, and digs it up.  His weak body is fueled with excitement and he lifts up a golden chest, probably buried by a king who is hundreds of years dead and left no notice about this treasure.  The traveler opens it up and there shines golden coins, jewels of all kinds, worth more than he can even imagine.  Filled with excitement, he reburies the chest and instead of hobbling down the path, there is now a skip in his step.  He must do anything he can to buy this field.  He goes home and sells everything he owns and in the world's eyes, makes a foolish investment.  Alcorn is not condoning greed or the deceitfulness towards the original field owner, but he wanted to portray how Jesus and the kingdom of heaven ought to be our objects of treasure where we are filled with such anticipation to be with him in heaven that everything else that our heart possesses ought to be thrown off, sold, eliminated, of lesser value than the beautiful gift of salvation and grace that Jesus offers.

Have you ever watched someone die?  A few days ago, Nik Wallenda (a stunt man from a long line of daredevil relatives) walked along a tightrope across the Niagara Falls.  As I watched a short special on his life, they showed his grandfather Karl's last ever tightrope walk.  The line wobbled, his balancing pole aid was tilting, and he fell to his death.  Probably the most intense feeling I had was the few seconds before he fell.  I was told he was going to fall and die in the next few seconds.  Life would quickly turn to death.  I was reminded of the same feeling I had when I saw an olympic luger at the Vancouver games get thrown from his sled into a pillar, dying.  When in 8th grade, I saw people jump to their deaths off of the Twin Towers on September 11th.  There's something haunting about death, knowing someone is going to die.  I don't want to be presumptuous but sometimes I feel that watching movies and shows with killing and death in them helps us to numb and desensitize the pain of thinking of our own deaths.  Thinking of our own death makes people question life.  Why is it?  What is it?  Walking around thinking of death all the time might not seem like the best idea, but man, think of how many things we consider important would change into what they actually are, stupid and pointless.

Each of us has a countdown to our death, each second of your life disappears and in a sense, dies.  Clock is ticking.  If you have accepted Jesus as your Lord and Savior, he offers you forgiveness (1 John 1:9 "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness."), and also salvation (John 3:16 "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son that whoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.").  We are guaranteed to be with Jesus and go to our eventual home in heaven when we die (not because of what we do, but because Jesus died for us).  This treasure that we have, despite not visibly seeing it now, should completely take over every thought and word and action in our lives, much like the weary traveler in Matthew 13.  Where is your final destination?  The thing you are working towards?  What are you striving for?  What defines whether or not you have a good day?  These are things I, too, need to ask myself and take before the Lord.