Weary From the Road?
JUSTIN CAMP
4 min read ⭑
I love San Francisco International Airport. It’s strange to say that about an impersonal, less-than-peaceful public infrastructure complex. But my affection isn’t about what the place is but what it means. You see, whenever I reach the departures level at SFO, it means some sort of adventure is afoot. And then, after some predetermined interval, as I glide in low over the Bay and touch down on runway 28L or 28R, it means I’m home — or soon will be.
Home.
Jenn and I love going. Seeing places. Meeting people. Experiencing things, for work or R&R. But we also love returning to our Northern California home. And lately, we’ve been doing a lot of both, primarily due to end-of-the-year activities for our adult and nearly-adult children: two graduations, one athletic event, all requiring cross-country travel. Over the past month, we’ve logged some serious miles. But we got back last night. And standing by myself, waiting for bags, I started thinking about the concept of home. I asked myself, “Do I know where or what home actually is?”
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I mean, does the word simply refer to the physical structure where we live most of the time — that thing I was looking forward to walking into soon after those minutes at baggage claim?
Or is home something else entirely? Something much bigger.
A. W. Tozer thought it was bigger. “Home is that sacred space,” he wrote, “where we don’t have to be afraid; where we are confident of hospitality and love.” According to his definition, home is characterized less by walls or floors or roofs, stoves or sinks or refrigerators, tables or chairs or beds, and more by the people in our lives — because only people can offer things like intimacy and kindness and warmth.
Perhaps we tend to associate home with wood and stucco, glass and steel because, when fastened together, they sometimes house the things mentioned by the old preacher in his definition. In them, under them, love and hospitality and security often happen or become manifest. But such associations mistake inanimate things for thething. They mistake the places and spaces where home can materialize for home itself.
Come to think of it, for the same reason, considering even a person or group of them as home is wrong, too. No human being could meet a strict reading of Tozer’s definition, not by himself or herself, at least. Even the warmest, most loving homes are inhabited by fallen people. And such people betray us sooner or later — and to some degree. At some point, mistakes are made. At some point, careless words are spoken. At some point, promises are broken. At some point, we let each other down.
We all do. Well, all but one.
Only one person never messes up, miscalculates, breaks promises, or speaks anything but tenderness and devotion. Only one is perfectly good and trustworthy. And only in his presence can we be wholly unafraid and absolutely confident of hospitality and love.
So, the truest definition of home actually has less to do even with parents, spouses and children and much more to do with this adoring God of ours, who is himself love (1 John 4:8).
“We remain wayfarers right up until we discover what home truly is. Until we attune our ears to the voice calling, leading us there — to the voice calling out to his beloved.”
Our human hearts ache so dearly for home. We pour out our lives looking and looking for it, trying to locate a place we know in our hearts we’re made for. We try to reach it by obtaining the right jobs with the right titles. Or the right houses in the right neighborhoods and the right number of kids with their own right accomplishments. Or the right vacations and the right images on the right social networks. But our hearts are larger than any of that; they require more than anything these can ever provide. So, we remain vagabonds. Wayfarers — searching but never discovering home.
We remain vagabonds until we begin to view even our physical abodes as no more than temporary refuges providing respite from the pilgrim’s road—guest houses along the way—places where we live for a while and love a lot but are never our final destinations.
“Our Father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasant inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home.” —C. S. Lewis
We remain wayfarers right up until we discover what home truly is. Until we attune our ears to the voice calling, leading us there — to the voice calling out to his beloved.
If you are weary from the road and long for home, we’ve got you. That’s what Rapt’s all about. So, take a moment to pray and consider. How would your heart most like to connect with God today? If you need an idea or two, peruse some of Rapt’s many “primers” on effective spiritual practices — then try out one you’ve never tried before.
Justin Camp is the editor-in-chief of Rapt Interviews. He also created the WiRE for Men devotional and wrote the WiRE Series for Men. His writing has also been featured and seen on Charisma, Moody Radio, Focus on the Family, GOD TV, The Christian Post, Crosswalk, Belief.net, LifeWay Men and other media outlets.
