When God Goes Home

I climb out of the car after driving home from a week away. It's hard to be so close, yet so far.

The evening settles in. I am home. And I couldn't be happier.

We talk and we laugh and we share. 

We are family. 

Yet my mind begins to wander. 

I picture God in an empty heaven. 

(One person can make a place empty, you know.)

His Son has been thirty-three years away from home.
(I hope I never have to experience that.) 

Yet when Christ ascends and steps through that portal, excitement rebounds off of every galaxy, every constellation. 

He is home. 

But He wants me to experience His home too. For me to call it my own.
Because when God goes home, He says He cannot be completely content until I'm there too.

He watches me down here. 

I'm so close, yet so far. His heart yearns. 

And I ask myself, How earnestly do I long for that home?

Fire Dweller

Fire.

It seems to be a common theme when discussing the Christian journey. 

I have frequently experienced it in various forms in my life.

But of course, my "fires" are all relative. 

I'm not suffering from cancer.

I'm not in a dysfunctional, abusive family.

I'm not malnourished, neglected or unloved.   

And I don't take those things for granted. 

I am very grateful. 

To me, "fires" always punctuate life. 

It's just something to expect. They come and they go. 

I had a change of perspective this week though in that regard. 

I was reading through Isaiah 33.

"Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire?"

Dwell? Really? Not someone who just experiences fire every once in awhile?
Someone who dwells in the fire?

The description continues…

Walk righteously. 

Speak uprightly. 

Despise oppression. 

Hate bribes. 

Avoid hearing of bloodshed. 

Close your eyes from seeing evil. 

Sounds pretty saintly to me. 

Sounds like a description of perfection. A description of God. 

Then the familiar promise is given.

"He shall dwell on high: his place of defense shall be the munitions of rocks: bread shall be given him; his water shall be sure."

And you will see the King in His beauty. 

Wait, this promise is for the fire dweller?

How did I not realize this before?

In order to receive the promise, I must hold my half of the bargain. 

Fire must become my lifestyle. 

I must become a fire dweller. 

Then I shall see the King in His beauty and be fed from His hand.

Gift for the Minion Girl

"Therefore [because I am to be a beacon on a hill] the Lord is waiting to bestow kindness and favor on me despite the fact that I am His inferior. He arises to shower compassionate love and mercy upon me. He is a God of justice. If I wait for Him, I will find happiness." {Isaiah 30:18, my paraphrase}

I blink twice, trying to absorb Hebrew meanings.

Hello? This is me He's talking about.
Me. His little minion girl.

The girl who falls and makes mistakes.
The girl who gets herself into trouble with her choices
The girl who is trying but so often falls short of God's ideal.

Yes. The very one.

God is waiting — patiently, anxiously, longingly waiting.
Waiting to give me every good thing, every kindness, every favor that heaven could bestow.

Yet it's a two-sided agreement.
He waits for me. I wait for Him.

Waiting is best rewarded in solitude.
"Quietness and confidence shall be your strength." {Isaiah 30:15}

I must wait more.