They paid my airline ticket to the States so that I could participate in their Global Worker Conference. The church wanted as many of the “home-grown” global workers to be in attendance that could arrange to be there. My heart was beating faster than usual as I walked through the doors that led to the new sanctuary. How many people would I know? Would there be anyone who would remember me? This was my “home” church in my “home” town but now I had lived more years overseas than in the States. The common inquiry that day was, “how does it feel to be back home?” It was not a simple question. Was I really “home”?
Much about the “home” town was familiar, but it had burst through the city limits; one-way streets had changed directions and certain landmarks didn’t even exist any more. It was going to take time to get my bearings and navigate from where I was staying to the next small group meeting.
The “home” church building had expanded and doubled its capacity. What had been the site of three Sunday morning services was now an auditorium for the new Bible School and the beautiful new sanctuary could hold all members at one time now. Finding my way to room LL5 where I would speak during Sunday School was a challenging expedition.
The “home” church body had changed also. Mom and Dad were no longer there, for they and many faithful servants of their generation had graduated to Glory. Friends from high school youth group had moved to different communities or across the state. Several were global workers serving the Lord other places in the world. Could I really say I was “home”?
But then I asked myself if Monte Carlo was “home”. This is where God had brought us to serve Him almost thirty years ago. Trans World Radio had been our ministry family all those years. Living in the same apartment for 26 years is probably a record for global workers; but neighbors have changed, our daughters have left home and with the change in my husband’s responsibilities, he is traveling almost a third of the year.
TWR-MC is no longer five floors of offices and studios buzzing with forty people writing scripts, repairing tape recorders, typing letters, recording programs, and selecting frequencies. Now the staff of 7 fits into one floor of offices. Can I really call Monaco “home”?
Perhaps my Heavenly Father has purposely brought these changes so that I would realize that “home”, for His child, is not a specific location on earth. The Psalmist found “home” to be where God was present. Paul reminds me that “our citizenship is in heaven”. Jesus tells me that He is already “home” preparing a room for me. If I don’t feel at home in the States or in Monaco either, maybe that is only normal. As a child of God, I’m not “home” yet.
©2004 Thrive
View the original print magazine where this article was first published.
