I’m delighted to welcome Sheridan Voysey to the blog today, sharing some thoughts on home that he originally gave on BBC Radio 2’s Pause for Thought. Sheridan is a wonderful writer and speaker, whom I’ve been delighted to come to know along with his wife Merryn since they moved to the UK from their native Australia. He invites you to ask yourself, “Where is ‘home’ for you—that place where you feel you most belong? Is it the house where you grew up? Your current home? Is it just being with your loved ones, wherever you are, or is it something else entirely?”
When I visited my hometown of Brisbane, Australia, I had an eerie experience. One night I drove to Kangaroo Point—a cliff top that provides a stunning view of the city—and as I sat there watching the cars rush by on Riverside Drive and the city’s lights shimmer on the Brisbane River, I realised I could see the spots where some of my significant life events took place.
In front of me was the bustling city, where I’d come as a teenager to buy records and feel grown up. To my right was the Story Bridge, which my dad had driven me across each day to my very first job. To the left was Southbank, the park where Merryn and I had our first date. The first flat I rented was up the river and to the left—it was a converted storeroom with a cockroach problem, but I felt so free and independent living there. And to the right of that was the first radio station I worked at.
As I sat reliving these memories I was struck by something: even with all these experiences, Brisbane didn’t feel like ‘home’ for me. And it never had.
The theme of finding home is a significant one as in some ways I’ve been searching for home for some time. It wasn’t until Merryn and I moved to Sydney that I truly felt at home. In Sydney long-held dreams came true, the beauty of Sydney Harbour captured my soul, I was doing work that mattered, and its cosmopolitan feel meant I didn’t have to like football and beer to fit in! I could be myself in Sydney.
Home is a place of belonging. It’s where you can be yourself and be loved for it. In this sense friends and family are ‘home’ for me, particularly Merryn. Her acceptance means home is wherever we are together. And God is ‘home’ for me. I can feel a sense of home praying in a hotel far away because wherever he is, home is.
But home is also a place of becoming. It’s a place that challenges us to grow and share our God-given gifts with the world. This is what Sydney gave me that Brisbane didn’t. This is what Oxford gives me now.
So this is what I’ve learnt along my search: Home is a place of belonging and becoming—where you can be who you truly are, and become who you’re truly meant to be.
The Lord is my light and my salvation – whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life – of whom shall I be afraid? Psalm 27 (NIV)
King David, as the accepted author of many of the Psalms, reveals in them his great faith in God that was forged through lots of adversities. For example, he was on the run from his best friend’s dad, King Saul, who became jealous of his popularity with the people. After Saul and Jonathan were killed in battle, David faced other challenges as King of Israel and Judah, namely his people’s enemies such as the Philistines and the Moabites.
Some of David’s trials were self-created, however. Such as one spring, when other kings were off fighting wars but he stayed home, to rest and take it easy. The beautiful wife of one of his army men catches his eye and he commits adultery with her. When she becomes pregnant, he has her husband killed in war. Psalm 51 is his heart-rending cry of repentance.
The psalm we read this week is a confident affirmation of God’s presence in his life. David knows he need not fear the arrow that flies by day nor the terror of the night, for God is with him. The Lord is his light and salvation; the Lord is his place of refuge and protection.
Echoing David’s songs of trust and faith to the Lord may not feel natural at first. We might struggle to believe that the Lord will light our way or set us in a spacious place. But as we relinquish more of what we claim as ours over to him, we see how he leads us – and how he gives us back in abundance. Our faith grows and we can affirm with David that we will dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of our lives.
What rooms can you invite the Lord to inhabit today?
Prayer: Father God, we know that you are a jealous God, and that you want all of us. Help us to live wholly for you.
It’s lovely welcoming Jo Swinney to the blog today, and especially to have her write about home. When I was commissioning books for Authentic Media, we met up and bandied about ideas for her to write, and one of them was a book about home. I was delighted to learn recently that she’s placed that book with Hodder, and that it will be coming out next summer. Here’s a taster to whet your appetite.
As someone who has lived in more than 25 houses, five countries and three continents, the concept of home has been a perplexing one for me. There have been times I’ve felt so rootless the most inane of all openers at social gatherings – ‘Where are you from?’ – has been enough to conjure embarrassing tears. As humans, we have a fundamental need for a safe place, a place we belong, where we can be ourselves, a place from which we can offer hospitality.
With my family as a child.
When I was a small child, I understood home to be wherever my parents were. I was fortunate to have a mother and father who were unequivocally pleased by my arrival and whose love was unchanging from place to place. As my three siblings joined us, our unit only became stronger.
When we moved to Portugal when I was five, I missed England at first. I missed my best friend Joey, I missed the sweet shop, I missed the park and I missed our church where my dad had been a curate. I felt important in that church. Everyone knew me, and in Portugal no one did. Home was my family, but it was also England – and I wasn’t there.
At thirteen I went to boarding school, and I was dreadfully homesick. By then home was Portugal, although culturally I was a strange hybrid of different influences. Living in community in a field study centre, the first A Rocha project, I brushed up against people from all over the world. My faith was a huge part of who I was and as I entered the first episode of the depression that would be a regular, unwelcome feature of life from then on, I looked to God to be my shelter, my refuge, my rock. But I was still homesick.
First day of boarding school.
The next few years were a kaleidoscope of people and places – a crazy, colourful adventure that left me spinning. For a while I gave up on the notion of home altogether, preferring to think of myself as a global citizen on a footloose amble towards heaven, where I assumed I’d finally feel settled. I felt a bit smug about this, and quietly judged the less spiritual who tied themselves to mortgages and joined local government.
Our lovely wood-burning stove.
I don’t see things that way anymore. I’ve come to recognise home as a God-given idea. My home these days is this house I live in, a house with a wood-burning stove and an apple tree in the garden. It is my husband and my little girls. It is my secure place in the eternal love of the Trinity. It is the memories of all the places I have spent time and carry with me, and it is in this body and this self which is being formed in the image of Christ, albeit excruciatingly slowly.
So where’s home? Home is here. Home is now. Wherever I am, I choose to make it home.
Jo Swinney is a writer, editor and speaker. She is currently working on her fifth book – an exploration of the meaning of home, due to be published by Hodder & Stoughton in June 2017. She blogs at www.joswinney.com.
Elijah ascends to heaven in a chariot of fire. Gustave Doré.
“Don’t be afraid,” the prophet answered. “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” 2 Kings 6:8-23
Some years ago, I prayed regularly with a friend who was going through an excruciating time. She had experienced betrayal and she feared for her safety. Each week we would pray for God’s mercy, love, and protection into their lives. One morning while we prayed, I felt the verse above bubble up within me. I couldn’t remember where it was in the Bible, but quickly located it with the help of an internet search. “Ah, the chariots of fire!” I exclaimed.
We read through the story with new eyes, for we felt that God was reassuring her that he had erected around her an unseen army. She could rest and be at peace, even though a battle might be raging.
Elisha was a wise prophet, and through years of faithfulness had honed his spiritual vision. He knew that the armies of the Lord were far greater than the ones bearing down on him as sent by the king of Aram. And he knew that the Lord Almighty was more powerful than any human warrior. But his servant feared, so he asked God to open his eyes to what was unseen but real. Then Elisha asked God to strike the army blind, and they were. But amazingly he didn’t have his enemies killed. Instead he put on a great feast for them and sent them back to their master. They then stopped troubling him.
A prayer I often repeat is that God would open my spiritual eyes, that I might witness his power and mercy. What is going on in the heavenlies is real, though we, living in a materialistic age, might be skeptical. Or fear might keep us from trusting God. But as we witness his saving grace, as with Elisha, our faith becomes a firm foundation.
Prayer: Lord of the heavens and the earth, open our eyes that we might glimpse the saving work you are effecting in our lives, and in those around us.
I first met Betty Ringeisen at a prayer conference, and we connected on so many levels. We’ve stayed in touch over the years, and I was pleased to write for her Kingdom Life Now venture. She writes about a different aspect of finding home – the Divine Romance.
When I was a teenager, Danielle Steel was one of the top selling romance novelists. My girlfriends and I devoured her books like a bucket of Boardwalk Fries. Steel was the 80’s version of Nicholas Sparks. Each book offered an escape into the world of romance. As teenagers, my girlfriends and I craved a good love story.
Things haven’t changed much in the last 30 years. I still love a good romantic story.
Last week my daughter and I attended a mother/daughter sleepover. Basically, it was a bunch of girls (of all ages) eating junk food and watching chick-flicks all night. Pride and Prejudice was the crowd favorite. Every girl in the room went crazy as Mr. Darcy strode across the meadow at dawn to pledge his undying love for Elizabeth. As the two lovers met I couldn’t helping feeling like they had found their home.
Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet by C. E. Brock (1895). “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.” Public domain.
When we think of home we often think of a building or structure where we live. However, the Hebrew word for home has a much deeper meaning. The word is often used to mean everything on which one depends. In other words, home means everything.
All of us, whether we’re willing to admit it or not, long to be someone’s everything. We long for someone to desire us so much they say words that are reminiscent of Mr. Darcy’s words to Elizabeth. “I would have to tell you, you have bewitched me body and soul and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day forth.”
Most of us fail to realize the desire for a home was planted in our hearts by our Creator. From the moment we were conceived our own love story was already written. Listen to these romantic words:
“You know me inside and out, you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something. Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, The days of my life all prepared before I’d even lived one day” (Psalm 139:13-16, The Message).
We all long to be known. To be loved. To be invited into our own romantic love story. We want to be invited…home.
“From childhood on, something or Someone has called us on a journey of the heart. It is a journey full of intimacy, adventure, and beauty. But like any fairy tale it is also fraught with more than a little danger. To ignore this whispered call is to become one of the living dead who carry on their lives divorced from their most intimate selves, their heart. The Sacred Romance calls to us in our fondest memories, our greatest loves, our noblest achievements, even our deepest hurts. The reward is worth the risk. God Himself longs for us, if we are but willing . . . (The Sacred Romance, John Eldridge and Brent Curtis).
Most of us fail to see God’s longing for us. His constant pursuit of us. And yet, He’s always been there… Seeking us… Initiating a relationship with us. He draws us into intimacy with Him and invites us to love Him in response to His great love for us. George Eldon Ladd writes, “God is seeking out sinners and inviting them to submit themselves to His reign that He might be their Father.”
When Adam and Eve took the bite of the forbidden fruit they disconnected from their Father, and their communion with Him was broken. Desperately, they ran and hid from their Father, but He pursued them. Not as an angry Father looking to punish His naughty children for misbehaving, but as a Father who never stopped loving and caring for His son and daughter. His desire was to reclaim them as His own. To bring them…home.
Thousands of years later, His desire is the same… to reclaim each of us and bring us home.
By Zerovina (Own work), Creative Commons
In the Scriptures, it is clear God has a persistent pursuing love for His people. He is madly, deeply, and truly in love with each of us. He will do everything and anything within His power to win our hearts, to draw us to Him, and to get us to the point of surrendering to His amazing love for us.
Imagine the early morning sun rising on the horizon. You look and see Him striding across the meadow towards you. As He stands in front of you He confesses, “I would have to tell you, you have bewitched me body and soul and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day forth.”
God has invited you into a love story. Are you willing to take the risk? Are you willing to accept His invitation? Are you willing to come home?
Betty Ringeisenis a writer, experienced conference speaker, and Bible teacher. Her greatest passion is to help others discover their God given identity. Betty believes every person has a destiny carved out for them and she equips others to meet their highest potential. She lives in the Northern Virginia area with her husband, Donny, and their four children. She home schools her children, loves to bake with chocolate, and runs marathons in her spare time. To view some of Betty’s past articles go to: www.thekingdomlifenow.com
Ruth comes to take shelter under Boaz’s cloak. Engraving.
And now, my daughter, don’t be afraid. I will do for you all you ask… Although it is true that I am a guardian-redeemer of our family, there is another who is more closely related than I… If he is not willing, as surely as the Lord lives I will do it. (Ruth 3-4:10)
When I first moved to the UK with my new English husband, verses from the book of Ruth floated through my mind: “Your people will be my people and your God my God.” I knew I had left my home in the States – at least for the first five to seven years, as was our agreement (writes she, now eighteen years later!). But I hadn’t thought about adopting my husband’s people as my own. As with adopting children, we find that we have not only enough love for the children currently in our family, but an abundance with which to love the new member too. So has it been with adopting a nation – as I write in Finding Myself in Britain.
Ruth too was living in a foreign land, but she has seemingly lost everything when her husband dies. Yet she commits herself to her mother-in-law Naomi and says she will not leave her. Naomi then hatches a plan to provide for Ruth. It’s risky – Ruth presenting herself on the threshing floor where Boaz slept could have ruined her reputation. Ruth has reason to fear, but Boaz tells her not to. He will act honorably towards her, becoming her kinsman-redeemer in marrying her and thereby providing for her a place of safety and protection.
What a balm those words from Boaz must have felt to Ruth – don’t be afraid. With them she knew that her future was secure and that she wouldn’t be a rejected widow. She would have life and family and joy.
As I reflect on this story, I think of the apostle Paul’s letter to the Corinthians: “For no matter how many promises God has made, they are ‘Yes’ in Christ” (2 Corinthians 1:20). Boaz said yes to Ruth. What “Yeses” might God have in store for us?
Prayer: Lord God, we sometimes gaze into the unknown with fear. As with Ruth, may we walk forward with faith and hope.
I love this series, “There’s No Place Like Home,” because of the many rich contributions from thoughtful, deep writers. There’s more to come in the following weeks and months, but I wanted to break in today with a post inspired by the community here in Spain which feels like a home away from home.
The chapel at El Palmeral.
We gather for morning prayer in the outdoor chapel, letting the words of the Celtic prayers move us into communicating with God. We’re accompanied by the strains of Anna Raine singing through parts of the liturgy. It’s a favorite part of my week here at El Palmeral in Spain.
But the closing song of our time of prayer always provokes emotion in me, for the music and words make me long for home. Here’s the blessing of which I speak, as found on the Northumbria Community website:
Blessing
May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you,
wherever He may send you.
May He guide you through the wilderness,
protect you through the storm.
May He bring you home rejoicing
at the wonders He has shown you.
May He bring you home rejoicing
once again into our doors.
I get choked up at the going out and coming back, for it makes me remember that I’m sent. Not only am I sent from my parent’s home into the world, but I’m sent from the States to the UK. I’m sent this week from London to Elche to lead this retreat. I’ll be sent in May to Glasgow and Gloucestershire. We’re sent out, and then we return home.
Home rejoicing, as the words say. Home, thankful for the work the Lord has done in and through us when we’ve been away. Home to rest and relax and recuperate and renew. Home to work.
And I guess the song hooks into my emotions because I think of leaving the friends here – new friends and old – and yet I look forward to going back to see my family. (This is intensified because during the last singing of the verse on the last day, we grasp hands and look at each person, bestowing the blessing on them with eye contact and smiles.) And I think of all the friends and family I don’t get to see on a regular basis, because our homes are hundreds or thousands of miles apart. And the longing returns to be reunited.
And of course the largest longing of all is to be with God and loved ones in the kingdom of heaven. The kingdom that can be here and now; the kingdom to come.
May we love and bless and be at home this day.
Detail from the large mural depicting Jacob’s ladder on the back wall of the chapel.
I’m here at El Palmeral near Elche in Spain leading a retreat called, “Adventures with God.” It’s all about life with God and how we can communicate with him – and he with us. I find prayer so exciting, for through it God breaks into our lives and showers us with his love and affirmation.
He also reveals himself in creation. I snapped these photos yesterday in the gardens here at El Palmeral, reveling that the Lord would make cacti so interesting and the new buds of dates so beautiful. Join me here in Spain, imagining you feel the hot Mediterranean sun warming you as you look at the photos.
The new date seeds on the palm tree – stunning beauty.
Julie Jowett tells me these are an ice plant. So beautiful.
Joshua Commanding the Sun to Stand Still upon Gibeon by John Martin. Public domain.
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1
A church leader had these opening verses of Joshua impressed on him by the Lord as he settled into life in a new parish. Little did he know that he would be facing strife, assault, accusation, and anguish in what became a church divided. Sensing from the Lord that he needed to be strong and courageous, that he shouldn’t be afraid or discouraged, he kept on with the challenge of clarifying the core beliefs of the church. Later he acknowledged that he could have handled some things differently, with more loving grace, yet now he delights in a church transformed. Out of the ashes have come sprouts of new growth.
Joshua has a tough act to follow – as do church ministers when taking over the leadership of a church from one greatly admired. Moses has died and now Joshua faces the challenge of his lifetime, to lead his people to claim the land God had promised them. The Lord assures him that he will be with him, just as he was with Moses, and tells him repeatedly to be strong and courageous. Not to fear. To obey God’s commands. To meditate on the Book of the Law.
As we see with Joshua, the Lord promises never to leave us, but we have to step forward in faith. We might face challenges we never dreamed were possible, such as betrayal by our closest prayer partner or a whispering campaign that cuts us to the heart. Though we suffer, the Lord will not abandon us. With God’s indwelling Spirit, he brings comfort, peace and even the ability to forgive those who wrong us. And he will show us where we have sinned, lifting the lid of self-deception and convicting us to repent. May we rejoice in God’s mercy this day.
For reflection: Consider a church leader you know, perhaps your own. How might you encourage and uphold them today?
I first met Jennie at a book launch – you can read my gaffe of the American introducing herself in my book Finding Myself in Britain. I didn’t know then that I was meeting a wonderful woman who would become the editor to that book – one who had lived in the States for five years and so could speak both languages. And a consummate tea aficionado, who helped hone that chapter on tea. But she’s more than “just” an editor, of course; I picture her with a smile and a ready laugh. I love how she embraces life, thinking deeply about her faith, with joy oozing from her. I don’t think I could live with her – I couldn’t handle her tolerance for clutter, as you’ll see below – but I love counting her as one of my friends.
We first met at a Starbucks in central London. He’d seen my profile online, we’d exchanged a couple of emails and now we’d found a quick half hour after work to meet. Time was of the essence, especially for him; we had to make a decision fast. Sure, we were complete strangers but… could we live together?
No, this wasn’t speed dating on – er – speed. He had found my profile on a Christian flat-hunting (apartment hunting) website. I had listed the area I wanted to live in and the maximum price I could afford, he had found a flat that fit the bill and needed someone to share it with.
[A note for readers living outside of London: here it’s not a big deal for guys and girls to share flats/apartments. It is very common, and culturally totally appropriate. I’m aware that’s not the case in most other areas!]
So we met and tried to size each other up – what do you do for a living? Do you like to have friends over or go out to socialise? Do you smoke? Do you drink? How much do you care about tidiness/clutter? In other words, what does ‘home’ mean to you?
Our conceptions seemed compatible, and the flat, though a dark, damp, rather chilly basement, was in an incredible location right in the centre of London, so we moved in.
We’ve now lived in that flat for seven years. I’ve loved the location, loved (in the summer months) my ‘writing cave’ in one of the old coal cellars and loved the fact that, for the most part, my flatmate and I have passed like ships in the night (often literally, as I have been coming in from an event and heading to bed, just as he is adjusting his bow tie in the hall mirror and going out for the evening!).
But now it’s time to go our separate ways. He is being posted overseas for work, and I am flat-hunting again.
Now, of course, I’m seven years older, and my criteria have changed somewhat. Then I cared about location, price, and flatmates who didn’t smoke. Now in my 40s, those things are still factors, but given that I don’t want to have to move again any time soon, I definitely want this next place to feel like home.
So what does that mean now?
In no particular order, here are four things that I have come to value (or realise I value):
1) Clutter.
One reason my flatmate and I got on so well is that we both have a similar tolerance to clutter. The various tables and work surfaces were always strewn with newspapers, letters, books, empty tea mugs, Amazon packaging and various other oddments. We both had books double-stacked and DVDs in teetering piles on the bookcases. The kitchen worktops always held the dishes and utensils we most often used and… you get the picture – we liked clutter. Home to me is somewhere where I’ve got my stuff around me and it’s OK to leave it there for a day or more until I next need it.
Books, books, everywhere books.
2) Hospitality.
I want my home to be a place where people feel welcome and want to come to eat, to relax, to hang out or to stay. I wish I’d made the effort more often to invite people over here, but apart from a few dinners, a couple of parties and the occasional Life Group meeting it hasn’t happened very much.
Part of the difficulty is that I’m not a natural ‘gatherer’. It’s hard work getting people to come to anything I organise, especially spontaneous things with no real purpose. Perhaps this time I need to choose flat mates who naturally draw others to them – then I could do all the cooking and preparing while my flatmates drum up the crowd to share it with.
On the other hand, maybe I should live alone because I also value…
3) Alone time.
I loved those weekends, and occasional weeks, when I would get the house to myself. Even though we rarely saw each other, it was nice just to know that the house was empty, and would be when you came home. I could leave the washing up in the sink for days, eat things like fish without feeling guilty about the smell, and not trip over his shoes when going to the loo in the middle of the night!
Ah, little luxuries! Speaking of which, there’s one more that was never on my list before but is now right up at the top:
My writing cave.
4) Daylight.
This cold, dark, damp basement has been fine for most of these seven years, but for the last 18 months or so it’s been starting to get to me (particularly as I now work from home three days a week). I’m tired of having no idea what the weather is doing. I’m tired of always having to have lights on. I’d like to be able to see a sunset or hear the rain. I want to be able to curl up and read in the patch of sunlight falling across my chair. I want to not live in a cave!
Battersea Power Station, which I’ve grown to love dearly over these seven years.
This flat has been wonderful. I have loved being able to walk to St James’ Park or home from the West End, I’ve loved lying in bed listening to the chimes of Big Ben. My flatmate has been almost ideal, and we’ve survived seven years with barely a difference of opinion. He was a total hero when my ceiling fell down and had to be replaced while I was in hospital. He has borne being in the darker, damper, smellier room with fortitude, and his foibles have been odd but – I’m sure – no more annoying than mine.
God provided an amazing place that has been home for nearly a sixth of my life – the second longest I have lived anywhere. As I look for where – and with whom – He will take me next, I’ll be grateful for His provision whatever that looks like, but I’ll be seeking to add these little touches that make a house my home.
Jennie Pollock is a freelance writer and editor who says she’s a ‘book-loving, blog-writing, tea-drinking, London-adoring, cheerful, joyful, trying-to-be-more-prayerful, image-bearing child of God.’ She has an MA in Philosophy, a BEd in English and a commendation in tea-making from several former colleagues. Alongside her freelancing, she works part time as Director of Communications for Kings Church Kingston. You can find her online at jenniepollock.com.
I’m delighted to welcome Sheridan Voysey to the blog today, sharing some thoughts on home that he originally gave on BBC Radio 2’s Pause for Thought. Sheridan is a wonderful writer and speaker, whom I’ve been delighted to come to know along with his wife Merryn since they moved to the UK from their native Australia. He invites you to ask yourself, “Where is ‘home’ for you—that place where you feel you most belong? Is it the house where you grew up? Your current home? Is it just being with your loved ones, wherever you are, or is it something else entirely?”
The theme of finding home is a significant one as in some ways I’ve been searching for home for some time. It wasn’t until Merryn and I moved to Sydney that I truly felt at home. In Sydney long-held dreams came true, the beauty of Sydney Harbour captured my soul, I was doing work that mattered, and its cosmopolitan feel meant I didn’t have to like football and beer to fit in! I could be myself in Sydney.
Sheridan Voysey is a writer, speaker, and broadcaster on faith and spirituality. His books include Resilient: Your Invitation to a Jesus-Shaped Life, Resurrection Year: Turning Broken Dreams into New Beginnings (shortlisted for the 2014 ECPA Christian Book of the Year) and Unseen Footprints: Encountering the Divine Along the Journey of Life (2006 Australian Christian Book of the Year). He has been featured in numerous TV and radio programs, is a regular contributor to faith programs on BBC Radio 2, and speaks at conferences and events around the world. Sheridan is married to Merryn, and resides in Oxford, United Kingdom.
