If you’ve never read Jane Eyre, first of all, we need to fix that. Secondly, get cozy, and let me tell you about my favorite scene. Jane is a governess in Mr. Rochester’s mansion – she’s poor, plain, and far beneath his pedigree. Still, the two share a powerful and mysterious connection. In chapter 22, when Jane returns to Mr. Rochester after a journey home, he tells her to go inside and rest. Then Jane narrates:
All I had now to do was to obey him in silence: no need for me to colloquise further. I got over the stile without a word, and meant to leave him calmly. An impulse held me fast – a force turned me round. I said – or something in me said for me, and in spite of me, “Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home – my only home.”
Ah! If your heart didn’t melt just a little, you may be the Tin Man. With one shy declaration, Jane captures the essence of home. Home is not about walls or atmosphere; it’s about humanity. Connection. Love.
I’m a closet romantic, and I’ll admit, occasionally I’ve glanced sidelong at my husband, Clint, and thought with a smile, “Wherever you are is my home – my only home.” Truthfully, I’ve also thought on occasion (without the sidelong smile), “Please get out of this house before my head explodes!”
Home is such a loaded concept. It has been both haven and prison to me in different seasons of life. A source of warmth and a thorn of chronic discontentment. It is the ultimate stomping ground for the “ought to’s” of life:
I ought to feel comfortable here. Fulfilled. This ought to be my happy place. I ought to be valued and respected. There ought to be laughter within these walls. I ought to experience joy, rest, and peace.
How disappointing to realize that our homes are often the opposite. They’re chaotic and stressful. Lonely. Tiresome. Reminders of the things we don’t have – the relationships we’ve lost or never experienced to begin with. And oh, how a Christmas tree can amplify the ache of the unfulfilled ought-to’s of life.
Recently, our leadership team at the Oviedo campus gathered for a night of prayer and fellowship. Person after person talked about how God has stripped and refined them this year. There were many tears and no simple cure for the sorrow. We just sat together…listening, resting, recognizing that we have Jesus. Really, that’s all we “have” with certainty.
But wonderfully – beautifully – it is enough.
If 2020 has taught me one thing, it’s to put my hope in Jesus. He’s pruned my heart considerably this year. I imagine it looks like the Grinch’s heart in reverse – where once it was inflated with lofty idols and selfish ambition, it seems rather small now. Battle-weary and bruised. But real. Radiant. Utterly His. And in the night, when I sense it roaming in search of peace, it’s then that I whisper to Christ: “Wherever You are is my home – my only home.”
This Christmas, come home to Him. No matter where the year has taken you, come home.
❤️ amen