Transient Permanence

If someone would come up to me right now and ask, “What do you want?” I would reply, “I want a home.”

/hōm/

The place where one lives permanently

Still living out of my suitcases, wondering what the future holds, my heart longs for permanence. I want to put up some curtains, unpack all of my books, and never move again. But that’s hard to do when I don’t know where.

America?  Which state?

China? Which province?

Greece? (I would definitely choose that little town with all of the white-roofed homes, clinging to the side of the island.)

I returned to a previous study I did on this topic, and found my wish echoed by a shepherd-king who spent his youth “on the run”:

“One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life.” Ps. 27:4

It seems like this place, the house of the Lord, is not just a physical spot (although it certainly was that as well, especially in King David’s day); it appears to be a space in which I can dwell no matter where I am.

This concept of moving permanence---I go from here to there, but stay within this home--- is hard for me to grasp. I still want curtains. I want to unpack the books boxed up for years, unwrap the porcelain dolls and puppets collected from around Asia, and cook dinner. But while I try to discover the physical answer to where, I’m attempting to learn how to settle down, rest, dwell in this intangible residence, this “house of the Lord”, this unchanging place where “even a sparrow finds a home” (Ps. 84:3a).

“Send out your light and your truth; let them lead me; let them bring me to […]  your dwelling!”  Ps. 43:3