My brain is a pendulum.
Within the last couple of weeks I have gone from camping in the mountains of Colorado to lounging on the beaches of California to singing in front of the undisturbed British while the rain pours down and water seeps into everything, making the hills of Cornwall, in the UK, even greener (which barely seems possible). It is interesting to see how, just as the landscape of these destinations have varied drastically, so have my emotions and comfort level. On the camping trip, I was struck by the extreme level of comfort and ease I have around my family. My family meaning, for a moment, not just my husband and daughter but also my mother and siblings and grandmother and cousins, etc. They are Texans, just as I am (and will always be!), as well as being of hispanic descent (gracias a mi abuela), as well as adventurous, laughers, huggers, sit-in-a-circle-and-talk-ers…I will actually just stop the description here because I could go on and on. There is a strange melting of history and people that has made my family the way it is and I sat, nightly, and thought about how comfortable it was/is. The way they talk, some with more of a Texan drawl than others, the way they joke with each other, the way they serve each other and the way they can sit quietly alongside each other, whether while fishing or just looking at the children playing, all feels like home to me because they are the people I was raised with. They are the voices that filled my childhood. Theirs are the arms that wrapped around me when I was hurt or cold, the ears that listened, the hands that helped, the laps that rocked, the eyes that warned and the throats that giggled alongside mine for as long as I can remember and it is because of this that I feel such comfort around them. Such ease.
I would imagine that most people feel the same way about their families. There is something a bit intangible that makes your family the safest, easiest place. The place where you can be most yourself. The place where you can be most relaxed. The place that you feel the most known and understood and supported and loved.
As often is the case, I, while cozy-ing up with these thoughts about my family, began to think about God and my relationship with Him. Do I have the same sense of comfort and ‘at home-ness’ with Him? Do I find ease when I spend time reading the Bible? Do I speak of Him as if He is someone I know or someone who knows me? Do I live the relaxed life of someone who is understood and supported and loved…
OR Does He feel far off? Do I feel uncomfortable because I don’t know Him well enough or understand Him? Are His ways so foreign to me that I am constantly on edge, unable to find peace?
I am sitting in the UK in a warm house, with a lovely family who is hosting me while I am here and they are constantly eager to serve me, providing meals, a sightseeing trip, a place on their couch as we watch the Olympics, etc. I look out the window, seeing a lush English garden shadowed by the most beautiful clouds. I have people nearby at the festival that I am a part of, who are friends, some of whom I have known for years BUT they aren’t my family. They aren’t my daughters laugh or the warmth of my husbands hand.
They aren’t home.
I want to have a relationship with the Lord that isn’t just manageable, but, one that is a place of comfort. A relationship that I fall into, finding rest and peace. A relationship where I lean for support, knowing I will undoubtably find it there. A relationship that I constantly turn to in joy or pain.
I don’t want to settle for an acquaintance God.
I need a Father God.
And He is just that, already. I don’t have to swing, like a pendulum, uncomfortably, through vague ideas of who I think He is, because He wants to be known by me.
Jeremiah 29:12-14 says:
“Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart. I will be found by you”
So I will be calling and praying and listening and seeking and searching…
I am on the hunt for home.