Homeward Bound

This is my friend Steve. We met Sunday, when he visited our church, and I spoke to him again briefly Monday morning, when I took these photos of him heading out of town. It’s highly unlikely we’ll meet again this side of heaven, but I have no doubt I will see him there.

Steve is a pretty remarkable guy. After worship and over a cup of coffee (something he indulges in way too much), he told me he grew up in foster care, and admitted that he got into a lot of trouble when he was younger. But he also told me when, through the miracle of prevenient grace, he heard God calling his name, he answered yes, and it changed his life.

A changed life isn’t always an easier life. In this world, Steve is considered homeless. He travels around without an itinerary, riding his bike and pulling all of his earthly possessions, including his well-worn Bible, behind him in a small cart. He’ll be the first to tell you his life isn’t comfortable. Aside from the obvious hardships of his nomadic existence, people—even those who claim to emulate Jesus—can be downright mean. If you ask him why he thinks that is, he’ll say, “They don’t understand because they don’t know me. But I say, ‘I’m right here…take the time to get to know me!’”

In our Sunday School class Steve pointed out that there are a lot of people who claim to be following the Lord when they’re really not (and we agreed wholeheartedly). But he's also quick to point out that "Jesus is in everything." In fact, rather than asking for prayers for himself, Steve asked us to pray for a man named Dennis, a drug addict he believes God led him to for the sole purpose of sharing the gospel.

How can it be that we are living lives of such material abundance but are so oblivious to God working all around us? It’s incomprehensible when you consider this man, who has so little but is keenly aware of God’s presence in his life. Is it possible that the true meaning of abundant living is being made manifest in Steve’s life because he allows himself to be used for God’s glory, regardless of his circumstances?

When I asked Steve if I could take his picture he readily agreed, with one condition: that his “Jesus is Lord” plate be clearly visible in the photo. That was fine with me, but I’m not sure he needs that plate to let people know where he stands. In fact, I’m not even sure I would call Steve “homeless.” Just before he pedaled off toward Damascus, he told me he wasn’t too fond of this world. But as I reminded him…we’re not home yet.

Godspeed, Steve.

“But in keeping with His promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness.”
~ 2 Peter 3:13

A Father's Love

I took a trip to see my mother recently. Our visits don’t happen as often as I’d like, because they involve a 10-hour roundtrip, not to mention juggling everyone’s schedules and packing (which I detest). And all of this is on my part, because she doesn’t travel.

Still, I’m always glad I went when I get home. I love my mom, and it’s good to spend time with her. But my trips feel very different since my father’s death, nine years ago.

Even though my parent’s house ceased being “home” for me when my children were born, my father made our visits a cause for celebration. For one thing, he planned and cooked special meals for us. Dad was “Master of the Grill,” and I’m not talking about burgers, but big, juicy roasts. His Brunswick stews were legendary; he was, after all, from Brunswick County, Virginia. He would start with a stovetop Dutch oven (“I’m just going to make enough for dinner…”) and end up with a huge pot he had to stir with a long wooden paddle. I loved taking a quart home, not only for a quick dinner on a cold night, but because his stew was a labor of love. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will never taste fried oysters as good as my father’s again.

Don’t get me wrong. Mom is always happy to see us, but she’d rather go out to dinner than cook any day, so that’s what we do. I don’t blame her ... I just miss the feeling of knowing I was loved because my Daddy cooked something special for me. In fact, I think I inherited the love language of cooking from him.

I’ve come to believe there is no one in this world other than your parents who will love you unconditionally. I can say that as a daughter who has lost one parent, and as a parent myself. Maybe that’s why we feel so abandoned when we lose a parent. And if I didn’t know that I had a father in heaven who loves me no matter what, I imagine I’d feel like an orphan.

So I’m thankful for the father I had for 38 years here on earth, and for the father I will always have in heaven.

"The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children.” ~ Romans 8:16 (NIV)