My boys love the song. All of them love it. Big one and three little ones. When it comes on, and we are in my husband's vehicle, the back seat and front seat explode with sound. "All I know is I'm not home yet, this is not where I belong; Take this world and give me Jesus, this is not where I belong." They sing with one voice. Loud and from their bellies. Exuberance pulsating around the cabin of our vehicle as the sound waves swirl around us, making me dizzy. I love those moments.
I'm not home yet. This tender earth beneath my feet so dear to me. But it's soil is so hard. I want to dig deep and put down my roots. But there is something in the difficulty of the process that keeps me from feeling completely at ease. I keep trying to make my heart relax into the unwieldy circumstances of this season I am in. But it doesn't. My heart keeps telling me there is something more, something only Heaven can give. This is not where God intends for me to feel fully alive. Fully myself.
I am suspended between two realities.
There are seasons of transition, where life plays fruitbasket turnover with everything stable, a time of temporary uprootedness. Difficult at best, yet temporary. I know this is the season I am in. I know it in my bones. Ugh. Still waiting for all the pieces to land. I know that when each piece is in place my whole body will breathe easy. The constant looking to the horizon for signs of what must be will pass. So I know there is a settledness that is not yet mine, a nesting in this real world we live in that makes a home and knows how to rest.
That is one reality.
Because the ache inside, that longs for resolution, points us to a deeper longing. We long for more than righted circumstances or purpose or clear direction or satisfying conclusions. We long for the perfection we were made for, and when everything is nearly perfect, we forget. So in some ways the unrest is a beautiful gift. It helps me know that not feeling quite at home here on this stubborn sod is a normal response for this flesh made for the Heavenly One.
That is the bigger reality.
All of us were made for God. At a cellular level we know our promise lies not in an earthly answer but in the One who spun universes into being, kneeling to this humble earth, cupping the dust of this ground into tender Hands, crafting each one of us into a singular, unreapeted reflection of Love. In the swirling mess of creation we are the masterpiece. We are His crowning glory. And yet we cannot enter His Glory here. We will only taste it when we step beyond this earthly vale, out of our territory (gift and blessing yes, but thoroughly ours) into His. His Heaven. His Kingdom. His Glory.
So what do we do in the meantime?
We wait. With Him. Listening for the Stillness within us to show us where to look. And we enter into the gift of uncertain days wholly present to each joy and sweetness within our grasp. Holding close our dear ones. Singing loudly from our bellies the truth that holds us: "All I know is I'm not home yet, this is not where I belong; Take this world and give me Jesus, this is not where I belong."