I think God made Will a homeless person at his core. The way it manifests itself still surprises me at times.
For example, last night, after the nth time of sleepily asking my even-sleepier other half if I could share in the precious commodity that was our blanket, I had to give up. It was clear that Will was on a mission to wind himself into a 6-foot-long papoose. Who was I to stop him?
Yet deeper than his blanket-need that would put a hobo to shame, is his homeless heart. Not that he doesn’t have a home, but he recognizes that this world isn’t it. He’s not ok with settling for average. He lives with a much more real Home in sight.
For me, growing up as a missionary kid, that was probably one of the hardest, but most wonderful, lessons I learned: I will never be home until I am Home. And it is a comforting thing to find a fellow purposeful hobo to do life with.
This child I’m carrying is in a temporary home. Can you imagine how crazy it would be if he just settled in, got comfortable, and made plans to live only for that stage of life? From the moment we become a part of this world, we are placed in a temporary shelter. We are made to outgrow this place.
Each person is just passing through, though few live like it. This life is temporal and fleeting. The things we own, the investments we make, the accolades we recieve, they are all worthless on their own. Unless they are a means to eternal investment, they’re just one more thing that will fade and pass away. Our music isn’t even ours to keep. As hard as it is to type that, we know that the work itself we pour into this will not last forever. However, the message of it will because it’s not ours either. It’s His.
We are homeless, yet Homebound. There is such freedom in not being tied to anything to this world has to offer. Freedom to live a life that is only found in dying to ourselves daily. Freedom to invest in people who break our hearts. Freedom to love deeply because we were first loved by the Homeless Man who showed us what it means to just be passing through.
[Joylily, for the band]
This post dedicated in loving memory of our Uncle John McCoy, 1943-2017.