I wonder if Christ ever ached for home.
I don't mean His heavenly home, though I believe He probably ached for heaven often.
But a dwelling place to settle in.
I don't know what the first years of His life looked like. Or even the majority. Maybe he lived in one place for a majority of that time.
But during those years of ministry, He didn't seem to get to have a home.
He was on the go. Traveling from town to town, resting with strangers.
He ate with sinners which must have been exhausting.
Christ rested on boats and prayed among the trees.
I rest in a bed and pray on my floor.
One of the things I was most excited about for this new year was my new home. It's so fun to get to turn a dwelling place into a home.
I've been working for months to reconcile "don't store up for yourself treasures on earth" with the tangible ache I felt after putting most of my things in storage back in September.
I haven't come up with a reconciliation.
I missed my couch. My dishes. My bed.
I was filled with joy as I opened up each box.
I'm looking forward with genuine anticipation to hanging things on walls again.
So as I would lay awake at night missing my things and feeling a little bit empty having lived in one room for three months - I felt like Jesus maybe understood my emotions.
He understands my aches.
My understanding of the aches He went through is limited - but I think His understanding of my ache is real.
