My Home

Revelation 21.18, 22.1-2 (ESV)
The wall was built of jasper, while the city was pure gold, clear as glass.
Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.

On the North shore of Long Island, near the town of Riverhead, there is a place that has maintained a hold on my heart for most of my life. For hundreds of years, until several years ago, a plot of land and beach had been owned by one of my ancestors. My grandmother helped her father build a small bungalow at the top of a cliff overlooking the Sound, then it was passed to my aunt and uncle, and they expanded the home considerably. I spent at least a week staying there every summer since before I could remember. Nearby, "the farm" was my grandmother's birthplace, not to mention the generations preceding her. The time spent in this place was wonderful not just because of the family members I got to know, the lazy vacation days, and the adventures fishing, water skiing, and sailing.

Especially after my family moved during middle school, I became aware that this area, called Penny's Landing, felt more like home than any other spot on the planet. When I occasionally return, I am reminded that the farmers, mechanics, and local folks are somehow connected to me as family or as family friends. I loved knowing that there was a place where I had firm roots of love and genetics. It was comforting.

But, several years ago, a divorce resulted in the loss of both the farm and the land on the Sound from our family. The "bungalow" on the cliff was sold because the property taxes and upkeep were impossible to pay after the split. I passed through the stages of grief -- disbelief, anger, pleading, acceptance... but sometimes when I saw photographs of the place, I would have to fight a sting of tears and a pang of longing for this taproot had been cut from me and from our family.

Earlier this summer, I saw one of these pictures and felt the pang again. The scene was beautiful, and I wanted to reach out to smell the wild roses growing at the top of the cliff, see the pines swaying in a light breeze, hear the soft, quick footfalls of the waves on the pebbly beach, and watch the ships sail past in far-off slow motion. I began telling a friend about how special that place was to me, but then God gently opened my eyes to see my Home in a way I had not seen it before.

I knew that since I had been ransomed from my dead slavery to rebellion against God, my ultimate destination was Heaven. I could even have spoken to you of the importance of my citizenship in Kingdom of Heaven. But I will always remember the clear impression that God gave to me as I was immersed in the photograph. My Home is not on this earth, no matter how many centuries I can trace my ancestry in a particular spot. Yes, that place may be beautiful and special, and it is good to have such a place. But one day, all of it will fade into oblivion and cease to be, but I will be Home. My hope in this life is not tied to the fate of a few acres of land, because even the largest, most solid rock on that North shore beach -- which had been used as a landmark for landing parties in the Revolutionary War and uncounted others before -- even that rock that has stood the test of time will not stand the test of eternity.

Now, whenever I think of Long Island, its beaches, potato farms, and tightly knit families, I am reminded that the connection I have to that place is only a dim shadow of the way that I am being inexorably drawn to the Heavenly city described in the Bible. There, the River of Life will flow, watering trees that bear life-giving fruit. I will walk the streets that I cannot even imagine fully. The Bible can only describe them as gold that is so pure as to be transparent.

Why does it matter that Heaven, not Penny's Landing, is my home? For one thing, my true home is secure. No amount of war, hate, greed, or pain can take it away. I can live the life I am called to live here on Earth, depending on God for the wisdom and strength to bring him glory, and not worrying about my future. My true home is also a home with room and incomparable joy for more people than I can imagine. I want to be a part of seeing more people trust in Jesus' sacrifice for our sins, so that we can all enjoy the indescribable reward that he has earned us -- living in perfected and ever-increasing fellowship with him.

As a man once bound for judgement and a spiritual death beyond imagining, I am and should be increasingly thankful for the free gift of life that you, my God, have bestowed on me! Teach me, guide me, and discipline me in this life so that I will increasingly live a life that points toward your amazing grace that has made me your own son.