Going Home

I got word this morning that my Uncle Pete passed away last night. I grew up across the road from him and his family, so I can't remember a time when he wasn't an integral part of my life.

I've been thinking a lot this summer and fall about the phrase, "going home." Because he knew Jesus, Pete's death was in the best sense a going home. Now I am changing some plans so that in a couple days I can be going home to Faaberg Lutheran and the farm where I grew up, to an amazing collection of siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles and more.

There's a lot wrapped up in those two words. How important to be able to go someplace that is "home". How tragic for those who -- wherever they may live, under a bridge or in a mansion -- have no place to call home.

Jesus-followers have no permanent home in this world. The Bible says our citizenship is in heaven, and we're waiting for the king from there to set up his kingdom here as well. Until then we live as strangers and aliens in this place.

It's worth pondering, what exactly it means to live as a stranger and an alien here. And what will it mean to go home?

Pete, I have to confess that I am just a tinge jealous. You are experiencing things now that I've longed to see for years. Peace, until we see you again!