contributor post: home is where the heart is

This is a post written by a 'for we have rebelled' contributor. Contributor posts are unfiltered by myself, and they are from the perspective of the writer. I believe that posts such as these tend to open up my narrow understanding of life and I hope that they do the same for you. 

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Von is a close friend and a long time mentor of both myself and my wife. She is a fantastic mother and wife to Chris. Von has helped me in my life more than she will ever know, and I hope that her perspective on home will encourage you as it did me.  

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Home is where the Heart is. I don’t know where that phrase came from. My first thought is that it was said by someone who traveled for a living, but loved what they did so it was all okay. They were always home. Or maybe it was said by someone who never felt at home anywhere because their passed away loved one was their home.

No matter where this phrase came from, it is a phrase that has come to mind many times in the past 10 years. As some of you know, I spent the first 18 years of my life in California. A city full of diverse people and languages, a large Mexican family that got together for almost EVERY occasion, and a small Christian school filled with some of the most loving people on the planet, were my homes. They had my heart. 

Then God directed me to move across the country, to a small town where I didn’t know a single person. I couldn't go “home” on weekends or even holidays. He led me into people’s homes to see how they lived. He gave me friends who had never met a Mexican before me. He surrounded me with people who knew nothing of my culture, but we were bound together by our love for Him. 

"He gave me friends who had never met 

a Mexican before me. 

He surrounded me with people 

who knew nothing of my culture..."

Then God, unexpectedly, directed me to Chris, my West Virginia “boy from the sticks,” as he says. To be truthful I had no idea what he was talking about until I went to visit him. He lived in an area where this California girl would call “Boonie-land”, aka “the middle of nowhere.” I had no intention of ever moving to WV. My home, my heart, was split. Part was for my husband, given to me by God, and the other piece of my heart was still in San Jose, CA. This focus on CA made the first several years of living in WV very difficult on our marriage and my mentality. The whole time I felt like God was urging me. He was saying, “I have you here. See that people are people. They are the same, deep down, no matter where you are. See My people. See the struggle? I want to help them, but they can’t hear me yet.” Sadly, I fought this and was very miserable. 

When we first moved to WV, people I’d meet knew as soon as I spoke that I was “not from ‘round here." This made me smile. Then one day I met a couple of bikers from San Francisco. They reminded me of my uncles. When I told them I was from San Jose and much of my family lives in San Francisco, they said “you don’t sound like us”. I thought I was going to cry. Seriously. 

"When we first moved to WV, 

people I'd meet knew as soon as I spoke that 

I was "not from 'round here."

After a few more years, I accepted that God had us in WV for a reason. Chris was far more loving and understanding with me than I would have been with him. Not to say that we didn’t have our frustrations, but he loved me. I could see how our marriage grew stronger and how God was guiding me to grow closer to Him. Accepting living anywhere but CA made me feel a bit “home”less. 

For so long, I was trying to fight my way back to CA so that my “home” would be put back together. I thought that if we moved to where my family and old friends were, I would have everything. My husband, my children, my parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, grandparents, tios, tias, cousins, and old friends would all be within driving distance. But I lost sight of what was in front of me: people. 

God has us on a mission to share His message of love, eternal life and true freedom, no matter where we are or what we are doing. I might not sound like a Californian, or be a West Virginian, but I am not “home”less. This world is not my home. This is not our final destination. He is.

"I might not sound like a Californian, 

or be a West Virginian, 

but I am not homeless.

This world is not my home." 

I believe in Jesus. I believe Jesus is the one and only Son of God. I believe that Jesus lived the perfect, sinless life. I believe that sin was brought into our beings when Adam and Eve made a horrible decision and disobeyed God. This act brought death to our world by separating us from God’s presence. Only the brutal death of Jesus could rescue us from the suffering we would endure when fully separated from the presence of God. I believe Jesus died on the cross, but because He is fully God and had God’s power and Spirit within Him, death could not keep Him. He HAD to raise from the dead because His nature is LIFE. After He rose from the dead, He spent a little more time with His friends before He raised again, this time into Heaven. I believe that He is sitting at the right hand of God right now preparing a place for His followers, His bride. 

I believe that after Jesus left, the Holy Spirit came to help His followers remember His words, teach us to speak His truth, and guide us in the direction we need to go. I believe Jesus is coming back for His bride/followers and He will be our God and we will be His people. His glory will shine and He will be the only light we need. This excites my soul! 

I love my husband. I am so thankful God has placed us together, but we have only been put together to encourage each other and help each other prepare for our Bridegroom. I do not believe Chris will be my husband in Heaven. I have taken Jesus Christ’s name as my own and I belong to Him. He needs to be my everything. I might sound fanatical, but Jesus is my home. Where His Holy Spirit is, there is where I find rest. Sometimes I still miss the city, the roar of the ocean, the perfect weather year round, the diverse colors of God’s people, and eating a burrito the size of my head. But, I pray that He continues to open my eyes to His people and close them to the distraction of stuff and location. He is my home and where He is, is where I feel at home.

". . . Jesus is my home."