deacon blues
12-21-2007, 11:13 PM
I remember the first time I came home for Christmas. I was 18 years old and a freshman at Bible college in St. Paul, MN. I had never lived for any significant amount of time away from home, let alone 16 hours away. I remember the anticipation as I drove the miles back to Newark, OH, my home town. I remember crossing the state line. It was the first time to be on Ohio soil for me in four months. It was a great feeling to be back home.
I remember getting to familiar territory, Columbus, OH and the city skyline. The home of the Ohio State Buckeyes. A place we always did our Christmas shopping. It was always a big deal to shop in Columbus at Eastland or Northland Malls. If you took your girlfriend on a big date, you would go to Columbus. The annual Mid Winter Youth Retreat was in Columbus. I had a lot of friends from Columbus. My room mate, Nathan Stewart was from Columbus. It was good to be back home.
Then I crossed the county line from Franklin County into Licking County, where my home was. There was the Route 37 exit off of I-70. Turn right and you would head toward Millersport, OH, the home of the Ohio Apostolic Campground. I made that trip from Newark to Millersport a thousand times as a kid, as a camper, and as a camp worker. I lived for youth camps. Some of the best memories from my youth were created there. I had life-changing spiritual experiences on those holy campgrounds. Turn left and it was north toward Granville, OH. I was only fifteen minutes from home.
As I drove through the countryside surrounding my childhood home, the landscape that I had taken for granted for so long seemed so different, the trees looked as if they had grown by ten feet, the railroad crossing appeared to be more modern, the houses and farms all looked as if someone had pianted them with fresh coats of paint. The December snow never looked more white and completely pure. I was aware of so much more of the things around my hometown than I ever had. I loved those trees. I loved that creek. I loved those farms, and cows and horses. I appreciated home like never before.
I finally arrived in my hometown. The houses were decked with Christmas lights, the city had their old, worn out telephone pole decorations displayed. It was early in the morning. I had driven straight through. I had only spent an hour sleeping in the parking lot of a truck stop in Ft. Wayne, IN. The sun was peaking over the horizon. The sky was orange and purple and red. It was cold. I stopped at the light at Main St. and 35th. I turned right. I drove to the end of the street to a little white house with a gravel driveway. I was home.
I exited the car. If I could get my arms around it, I would've hugged that old house. I had never thought of that building as my friend, but that day it felt like I was looking at an old friend that I had known for so long and had laid eyes it for the first time in a long while. It seemed as if that old house was smiling at me as I walked to the door.
I opened the breezeway door. I approached the side door. The kitchen door. I could see the kitchen through the sheer curtains. I went to the "secret spot" where a spare key was supposed to be hanging on a nail. As usual, it wasn't there. Reluctantly I knocked on the door. I waited. Then something was stirring, a figure walking toward the door, I could see through the sheers. Then another figure walking behind the first. The door slowly opened. The smiling faces of my mother and father. I was home for Christmas.
Christmas is about going home. That first Christmas a journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem had to be made. It was not an easy trek. Mary was great with child. The trip was long and arduous. And when they arrived at Bethlehem there was no smiling face to great them at a door to welcome them in. There was no place for them to lay their heads. The only available place to rest and get out of the outside weather was a barn. But while they were in the barn, the baby was born. Not just any baby, the Christ, the Messiah, the Savior of the world was born. God in the flesh. In spite of their surroundings and their experiences, Joseph and Mary were home.
Home is where Christ is. Home is being in His Presence and His Presence being in you. Home is being saved and in right relationship with Jesus. If you are home this Christmas, enjoy the warmth and comfort of Jesus in your life and all the gifts He gives. Enjoy the feast He has prepared before you. Most of all, enjoy His company. Appreciate being home for Christmas.
If you aren't home for Christmas, don't you think its about time to pack your bags, get out your Atlas and plot out your journey back home? Go home for Christmas. Repent of your sins, call upon the Lord and get back to where you belong. You'll appreciate home like you never have. What means the most however is when you wlk up to that door, there will be the smiling face of your Father to welcome you home.
It's so good to be Home for Christmas.
I remember getting to familiar territory, Columbus, OH and the city skyline. The home of the Ohio State Buckeyes. A place we always did our Christmas shopping. It was always a big deal to shop in Columbus at Eastland or Northland Malls. If you took your girlfriend on a big date, you would go to Columbus. The annual Mid Winter Youth Retreat was in Columbus. I had a lot of friends from Columbus. My room mate, Nathan Stewart was from Columbus. It was good to be back home.
Then I crossed the county line from Franklin County into Licking County, where my home was. There was the Route 37 exit off of I-70. Turn right and you would head toward Millersport, OH, the home of the Ohio Apostolic Campground. I made that trip from Newark to Millersport a thousand times as a kid, as a camper, and as a camp worker. I lived for youth camps. Some of the best memories from my youth were created there. I had life-changing spiritual experiences on those holy campgrounds. Turn left and it was north toward Granville, OH. I was only fifteen minutes from home.
As I drove through the countryside surrounding my childhood home, the landscape that I had taken for granted for so long seemed so different, the trees looked as if they had grown by ten feet, the railroad crossing appeared to be more modern, the houses and farms all looked as if someone had pianted them with fresh coats of paint. The December snow never looked more white and completely pure. I was aware of so much more of the things around my hometown than I ever had. I loved those trees. I loved that creek. I loved those farms, and cows and horses. I appreciated home like never before.
I finally arrived in my hometown. The houses were decked with Christmas lights, the city had their old, worn out telephone pole decorations displayed. It was early in the morning. I had driven straight through. I had only spent an hour sleeping in the parking lot of a truck stop in Ft. Wayne, IN. The sun was peaking over the horizon. The sky was orange and purple and red. It was cold. I stopped at the light at Main St. and 35th. I turned right. I drove to the end of the street to a little white house with a gravel driveway. I was home.
I exited the car. If I could get my arms around it, I would've hugged that old house. I had never thought of that building as my friend, but that day it felt like I was looking at an old friend that I had known for so long and had laid eyes it for the first time in a long while. It seemed as if that old house was smiling at me as I walked to the door.
I opened the breezeway door. I approached the side door. The kitchen door. I could see the kitchen through the sheer curtains. I went to the "secret spot" where a spare key was supposed to be hanging on a nail. As usual, it wasn't there. Reluctantly I knocked on the door. I waited. Then something was stirring, a figure walking toward the door, I could see through the sheers. Then another figure walking behind the first. The door slowly opened. The smiling faces of my mother and father. I was home for Christmas.
Christmas is about going home. That first Christmas a journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem had to be made. It was not an easy trek. Mary was great with child. The trip was long and arduous. And when they arrived at Bethlehem there was no smiling face to great them at a door to welcome them in. There was no place for them to lay their heads. The only available place to rest and get out of the outside weather was a barn. But while they were in the barn, the baby was born. Not just any baby, the Christ, the Messiah, the Savior of the world was born. God in the flesh. In spite of their surroundings and their experiences, Joseph and Mary were home.
Home is where Christ is. Home is being in His Presence and His Presence being in you. Home is being saved and in right relationship with Jesus. If you are home this Christmas, enjoy the warmth and comfort of Jesus in your life and all the gifts He gives. Enjoy the feast He has prepared before you. Most of all, enjoy His company. Appreciate being home for Christmas.
If you aren't home for Christmas, don't you think its about time to pack your bags, get out your Atlas and plot out your journey back home? Go home for Christmas. Repent of your sins, call upon the Lord and get back to where you belong. You'll appreciate home like you never have. What means the most however is when you wlk up to that door, there will be the smiling face of your Father to welcome you home.
It's so good to be Home for Christmas.