We went around in a circle and were supposed to share our name, where we live, and what we do. When it came to me I didn’t know what to say about where I live. I guess this hadn’t really hit me, that I don’t live anywhere. I don’t have a place that I can call my own. I don’t have a home. I'm relying on brothers and sisters around the world, which is really encouraging. It's like everywhere I go I have family who will take care of me.
My home is made in God’s call on my life each day. My home is made in wherever He guides me. Thinking about this reminds me of the part of the New Testament where the writer of 1 Peter tells his readers to live as strangers in the world. So even if I had a “home”, a familiar place where I lived, I should not place my hope in that being my home. My home is beyond all of this and I will find myself there when I die.
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