Home is where the heart is

"Home" means something different to everyone. It certainly takes on a variety of physical appearances. And some people say they come from a certain place, because they were born there, or they spent the majority of their childhood there, so that place is home because it played a significant part in their growing up. But I have been reflecting on the transience of home, in light of the characters of the Bible that struggled to find a place to stay: Moses and the Israelites, Abraham, Joseph, Ruth, David, Jesus, his 12 disciples, Paul, and the majority of the early Christian church who were persecuted and therefore scattered, running for their lives.

Listen to this passage that I've never previously noticed: "After this Paul left Athens and went to Corinth. And he found a Jew named Aquila, a native of Pontus, recently come from Italy with his wife Priscilla, because Claudius had commanded all the Jews to leave Rome. And he went to see them, and because he was of the same trade he stayed with them and worked, for they were tentmakers by trade" (Acts 18:1-3). Paul was called to the life of a roving missionary, but Aquila and Priscilla were called to a life as refugees, due to religious persecution. These misfits made a home together out of mutual love for God, shared careers, and sheer desperation. It makes me incredibly grateful to have arrived in Niamey with 10 trunks of possessions and an apartment waiting for me.

I know that I don't belong here, because many things about the cultures of various Nigerien people groups are so foreign to me, but at the same time it has been a long time since I've felt that I belonged in the United States of America. It probably began with my first overseas trip, to Ireland, in 2007. After that, I visited Egypt in 2008, Spain and Morocco in 2011, Costa Rica in 2013, and Ethiopia in 2014. And nothing "felt right" until I went to Soddo Christian Hospital, and the Holy Spirit whispered to my heart, "This could be home." But one thing led to another, and I'm on a slight detour to Niger before I can make it back to Soddo. But I finally set foot in the CURE pediatric hospital of Niamey two Thursdays ago, and there was a humming, a quickening of my spirit to connect with the Spirit of healing in that place. And I guess I'll never find a sense of belonging again, until I arrive in my heavenly home, but for now, I'm just happy to be a tentmaker with a place to ply my trade, tell my stories, and lay my head at the end of the day.