There is no place like home! Vacations are usually nice; traveling to other cities and countries can be very interesting and exciting; but there is no place like home.
The ‘prodigal son’ came to realize that it is much better to be ‘home’, than on his own, doing his own thing, in rebellion against his father, family, and home. One does not necessarily need be physically away from ‘home’ to be ‘not home’. Although Abraham was in the land which God promised him for an everlasting possession, he, nonetheless, looked for a permanent home, an eternal dwelling place with God, where he would no longer be a stranger and sojourner in the land, in the world, but forever home.
When my wife and I married, we considered moving away from my hometown city of Richmond, Virginia, where we also met. At that time, it did not matter that much to me where I lived, and my wife thought she would prefer somewhere else after having lived there for about five years already. We took a bicycle trip after our wedding — a cyclelogical odyssey — looking for a ‘home’. As we considered other cities as possibilities, we became more aware that each one had its own pros and cons, and Richmond began looking better to my wife. While on the U.S. west coast, we saw for the first time coffee shop bookstores. (This was back in 1980.) That struck a chord with me, and where better to open one if not in my own city where I was familiar with the neighborhoods, and I would at least have some initial customers: family members and friends!
Psalm 137 speaks of the heart of the Israeli Jew: it needed/needs to be in Jerusalem , the physical and spiritual center for the home land of the children of Israel. One may be in physical exile, but the heart needs to know where it’s home is, if the soul is to know any hope and joy. The Lord Jesus says that where our treasure is, there will our heart be also. I had come twice to Israel in my early 20’s: once as a tourist; once as a volunteer on a kibbutz in the afternmath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War. Israel was important to me; it was “our” country. But. . .I still felt that the U.S. was my home: my family was there; my friends; my comforts; my freedom to travel. I was at ‘home’ in exile, but, praise God, He was also working on that!
While still on our cycling journey, in the first nano-seconds of being born again by the Holy Spirit, the Word of God spoke to me, “Go to Israel.” Jesus made Israel HOME on Earth for me! Not Richmond; not the U.S. We arrived seven months later. I have a Palestinian pastor friend, who thinks that ‘the occupation’ began in 1948 (!). I told him that Jesus brought me home. These are obviously two opposing ‘worldviews’ for the present age. What we do agree on, though, is what the Holy Spirit needed to do to convict me that I was a sinner: Yeshua died for me, and because of me and my sins, and has brought me home to my Father in Heaven.
May we all, who know God the Father and Yeshua, whom He sent, earnestly look for that eternal day of great joy in the Father’s house when all His children are rejoicing together at home in His love.