Saturday, July 08, 2006
@1:45 AM
I was just thinking of the word
HOME, as I chanced upon what Max Lucado said about going home, that the last part on the journey home always seems to be the longest. And I somehow agree. To me, home is a place of rest, a place where I can let my hair down, put my feet up (alright, not really, keep that nice image of me with you...), & relax. Home is also a place where I know I belong, I know I'll be welcomed with open arms, and true, warm, unjudging love is. Home, to me, is heaven.
The times when we are most worn out, beaten, bruised, afraid...all we want to do is go home, to our safety net. These are the times when though we are physically tired, yet we are able to push ourselves beyond, walk a little faster, visible spring in our steps, because we are excited to go home. Home is a place of promise, of rewards, of triumphant joy.
Why am I saying all these? The bible says that "& I press toward the goal for the price of the upward call in Christ Jesus". Why are we doing what we are doing, even though sometimes, it brings tears to our eyes? Because each step we take brings us closer to our destiny, each challenge we conquer and rise above disables satan's hold over an area, and above all, we know we are edging nearer to home, the perfect place that I want to be, because that's where the one who will rather die than live without me will stand with open arms and say "well done, my beloved girl".
Now how does that sound to you?