RETURNING HOME

Going to one's beginnings can be such a mixed blessing. It really does depend on whether home was a place of love or hate.

But there are of course different kinds of homes. Some that come along during one's spiritual infancy.

It might be a church or place of one's spiritual parent, but it will carry with it different forms of memories. Those will depend on our lives and experiences.

What is hard is if the place of spiritual birth changes. And that does happen in so many cases.

For the womb of my faith is a hundred year old church steeped in denominational roots. It once thrived many years ago as light house for the Lord.

As a youth I found its two story structure to be so fascinating and diverse. It was full of marvel and magic.

But later it evolved. Like so many places it changed leaders and views of what it meant to be a Christian. And slowly lost its identity with its denominational heritage.

None of that had much to do with the issue of the truth. Oh the crowds that once and occupied the church did come back.

But the message being given was no longer rooted in the same truth. It was lost to the need for dazzle.

People more concerned with being entertained than truly celebrating the meaning of faith. A very sad reflection on how things fall apart at times.

So for me this meant going home was no longer in the same place. God hadn't moved, but where he once was found for me is no longer there.

I can honestly say my life has changed so much over the years. Where I dwell now is not the same as where I resided in my spirit.

And to be honest the places I have been lead at times are full of so many thorns and stickers that cause their share of pain. I had assumed that you know the day would come when I would mature in terms of what affected me, but it didn't mature the way I expected.


But God reminds me of his grace, his forgiveness when we truly face the reality of our sins. That is the place we have to always traverse with truth. For otherwise we never leave the swamp of lies.