Mi Casa Es Su Casa
I understood, probably at a young age, that there's a big difference in how you should act when you're at home and when you're a guest in someone else's home. What big trouble I'd be in with my mother if I walked into someone's home and acted like I lived there. I'd never get away with it. It was understood that I couldn't just go helping myself to someone else's refrigerator, or start turning the channels on their TV, or run upstairs to take a nap on their bed. How inappropriate and rude.
But what a different set of rules when it came to my own home. No, I didn't pay the mortgage or buy the groceries or pay the electric bill. I was just a kid! But I knew it was still my home because my parents called it their home. And their home was my home. I didn't have to ask permission to use the bathroom. If I was hungry, I knew I could help myself to a snack. And if I was tired, I had my very own place to lay my head. It was my home.
I'm older now and own my own home, but I still dwell with my Father. No, not my earthly father, my heavenly Father. I "live in the shelter of the Most High and find rest in the shadow of the Almighty" (Psalm 91:1). I abide in Him, for He is the Vine and I am a branch (John 15). His Presence is my Home.
One thing is clear: I am not a guest in His Home. I am not a stranger in His House. Though, it is true, I once was. I was once a beggar at His door. Before He took me in, I was homeless. But that is no longer the Reality. That is no longer my status in His House. He adopted me and washed me clean. He now calls me His own and I am His child. I am His and I live freely in His Home, His Presence. I am free to come and go without worry that I will ever be left homeless again. I can help myself to His Food. I can jump in His Pool and find refreshment anytime I please. There's no need to ask permission to Rest, for His Comforter is mine whenever I need Him. I don't have to convince myself of this. I know it. For it is Truth. Just as I knew when I was a child that my parents' house was my house, so I understand His Home is my Home. And I am free to be myself and free to help myself to all the amenities in my Father's House.
But what a different set of rules when it came to my own home. No, I didn't pay the mortgage or buy the groceries or pay the electric bill. I was just a kid! But I knew it was still my home because my parents called it their home. And their home was my home. I didn't have to ask permission to use the bathroom. If I was hungry, I knew I could help myself to a snack. And if I was tired, I had my very own place to lay my head. It was my home.
I'm older now and own my own home, but I still dwell with my Father. No, not my earthly father, my heavenly Father. I "live in the shelter of the Most High and find rest in the shadow of the Almighty" (Psalm 91:1). I abide in Him, for He is the Vine and I am a branch (John 15). His Presence is my Home.
One thing is clear: I am not a guest in His Home. I am not a stranger in His House. Though, it is true, I once was. I was once a beggar at His door. Before He took me in, I was homeless. But that is no longer the Reality. That is no longer my status in His House. He adopted me and washed me clean. He now calls me His own and I am His child. I am His and I live freely in His Home, His Presence. I am free to come and go without worry that I will ever be left homeless again. I can help myself to His Food. I can jump in His Pool and find refreshment anytime I please. There's no need to ask permission to Rest, for His Comforter is mine whenever I need Him. I don't have to convince myself of this. I know it. For it is Truth. Just as I knew when I was a child that my parents' house was my house, so I understand His Home is my Home. And I am free to be myself and free to help myself to all the amenities in my Father's House.
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