On our way home we had unexpected night in Istanbul which threw up an unexpected invite to visit friends. They say home is where the heart is. With friends all over the place Albania, Afghanistan, Nepal, Sweden, England, Canada and well actually Turkey and infact all over the place it’s hard to know where to call home. Of course we live in Leicester (which is thanks to a king in a car park and an unexpected football team success is undoubtedly fast becoming a remarkabled place to live) but home is another thing.
I have long been searching that beautiful place I can fully call home. What is home anyway? I think I find my closest expression of home in the words of Jesus in the story of the Samaritan woman at the well.
John 4:34 says: “My food,” said Jesus, “is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work.
I think in every home the kitchen is the place to be; we always end up congregating there anyway. When Jesus refers to his “food” I think he is talking about more than belly filling nutrition. To me it’s like he’s saying this is my satisfaction, enjoyment, fulfillment, my resting place. Do these things suggest home? I think so and as I reflect at the end of this second period of life in Nepal I think I can see glimpses of being full on the food that Jesus is talking about.
Don’t get me wrong this is not some rose tinted moment of nostalgia! Life in Nepal was hard; I was ill, friends houses were flooded and other close friends were being scammed out of thousands of dollars by people they thought were friends. The third world is a reality most of us are comfortably ignorant of but out there in the midst of the anarchy a force for good, a force for change is moving. That is my kind of food, that is my satisfaction and just perhaps that is our home?
God open up the way and we will follow you. Amen