Living as a missionary for a year in a half changed my understanding of home. While Upland, IN is my most significant place and I still call it home, my understanding of where home is and what it means to be home is much more dependent on relationships than location. Being with my family feels like home. Going to UCC feels like home. Drinking a quake at Payne's with friends feels like home.And in January, I was able to go home to Rossy's Bible school while visiting Back2Back Cancun. Spending time with my beloved Bonfil kids, seeing how they've gotten taller and more mature and more loving, and being able to share life with them even for a few short days--I was home.
While I was visiting, God blessed me with the chance to teach the middle school Bible class like I did twice a week for the 18 months I lived in Cancun. We talked about worship and what it means to glorify and honor God. We talked about the difference between general worship, honoring God in how we live every day, and special worship, honoring God by spending time intentionally declaring his praises, praying, and reading the Bible. Looking more at general worship, we talked about obedience as a way to worship God, about how we obey whatever or whomever we love the most (ourselves, others, or God). The kids listened attentively and were eager to answer questions to earn points for their team in hopes of winning the prize of stick-on tattoos. And as I heard children declare who God is and what it looks like to obey him by loving others, being generous, and helping out around the house, I was filled with joy. My heart was full because I felt at home--everything felt comfortable and familiar and filled with trusting love--but everything wasn't the same as six months ago, it was better. It was better because the kids hadn't remained stagnant, they had grown. They were more respectful and more encouraging and more excited than ever to share how God is real to them.
Standing in the cement-block classroom of the Bible school surrounded by 30 middle schoolers, in the middle of an urban neighborhood filled with poverty, drugs, and violence, I couldn't help but smile. From the outside looking in, I had so little in common with the children I felt so at home with--they are Mexican, I am American; they struggle to afford food everyday, I am live in a world of middle-class comforts; they have lived so many hard things in their 8 or 10 or 14 years of life, I have experienced a life of safety and security. But despite our differences, we are united in Christ. And in their presence, I am home. Through that little Bible lesson, God reminded me that home is wherever there is fellowship with Him and His family of believers. Through those kids, He gave me a glimpse of what it will be like to be home in heaven someday, worshiping God in perfect unity and fully restored relationships with God, one another, and ourselves. And I am so grateful for the gift of that little glimpse of home.
