Yesterday, I stopped by to say good bye friends who were packing up and leaving for Texas. Their house was a shell full of boxes and random scattered items that didn’t make the cut and wouldn’t make the trip southwest. I rescued a few plants and some stray items from their pantry. My throat knotted up thinking that the home my friends had created no longer existed. I was going to miss the comfort of their sofa and the gentle spirit of that place. We had spent hours there breaking bread, getting to know one another, praying and pouring over God’s word and watching friends laugh, struggle and grow together. We watched God change lives in this house. The space they created is no more. Memories remain. Life goes on. The moving van is physical proof.
The truth of the matter is that we are nomads in this life. This is not our home. Possessions may bless and comfort us, but they can also crowd our existence, complicate our lives and snuff out our souls’ deepest desires. We have to let go. Jesus knows this about us. Living in a land of such material blessing, his instructions take on even greater urgency.
“Take nothing for the journey except a staff-no bread, no bag, no money in your belts. Wear sandals but not an extra tunic. Whenever you enter a house, stay there until you leave that town. And if any place will not welcome you or listen to you, shake the dust off your feet when you leave as a testimony against them.” Mark 6:8-11
To lean back on the simplicity of these words is freeing if not terrifying. Jesus instructs me to not become dependent upon possessions, place, plans, wit or even outcome. Like moving, this is all a bit disorienting, but at the heart of it, Jesus wants me, my full commitment and trust in Him. He doesn’t want anything, anyone, any situation to take hold of my heart. He longs be soul proprietor so that I can walk in the beauty of the truth, grace and spaciousness that only knowing Him can bring.
Lord, may this be so. Amen