Hello! Welcome to our house. It’s situated on a terraced street just outside the historic city of York. It’s a Victorian two-up two-down with a loft conversion. There’s a small courtyard to the rear. We like the period charm more than we like the damp. We’ve lived here for four years and are very fond of the house and the neighbourhood.
We’ve made a number of improvements to the house since moving in, and have also done some thinking about the future – when and if to make further changes, to move or not to move. Proximity to Freddie’s school and, well, money(!) will keep us here for another few years at least. But the world does tell us to keep striving for bigger and better things, doesn’t it?
I first drafted this blog post some time ago – I was going to entitle it ‘Dual citizenship’ and write about how this house is not actually my home at all, for my true citizenship is in heaven. I was going to write about how I can use this resource God has given me (the house) for his glory until he calls me to a) another part of York/the UK/the world, or b) ‘home’ to be with him. Perhaps I will write that post at some point as I think it would be interesting to write and hopefully to read!
When I read through the draft this morning though, it didn’t feel quite right. I began to write the post and the words seemed to be stuck. They were valid words, rooted in scripture, but I felt there was something else to say right now. Recent international events have caused me to think quite a lot about my earthly ‘home’ – and all I can really say today is how grateful I am that I have one. If you do too, then that’s wonderful, and I hope you don’t feel guilty about having it. You’re a human being.
So I leave you instead with two things. Firstly, some words of Jesus that have the power to set our suffering neighbours – and us, who turn our backs on them – free. And secondly, these prayer slides produced by the excellent relief organisation Tearfund. If, like me, you’ve rather lost your voice, they might prompt you to speak again, speaking for those who seem to go unheard.
After all, if it was me who had fled my home, my son slipping out of my arms into the water, I’d want the family with the nice house to share their blessings with me. Wouldn’t you?