#M returned from a high school retreat last night. In her new school for less than two weeks yet invited to attend the annual trip to Switzerland. Talk about impeccable timing. Can you imagine? The closest I came to any type of high school retreat was called detention, but I digress. What I'd like to focus on is her return. The apartment was quiet, with each of its occupants doing their best to embrace a Saturday evening chill. All of a sudden, the door burst open, picture a swat team carrying out a no-knock warrant. I'M HOME EVERYONE! I'M HOME! After the initial, heart-clutching shock wore off, it was long welcome-back hugs with enthusiastic squeezing and tender, authentic, I missed you kisses. #M had thoroughly, like thoroughly!, enjoyed the weekend (an answer to prayers for sure) but she surely and truly missed home.
As we focus on the empty tomb today, last night's episode has me thinking. One component of the Holy Week I've never really thought about was Jesus' homecoming. He endured so much, obedient to the point of death, death on a cross, a Sabbath of rest, quiet and calm and then came Sunday, resurrected, death conquered. All the hurt, all the grief, all the tears, colliding atomically with the release, the relief, the joy. His mission on earth completed victoriously. He endured all those things with this in mind, giving God the glory and returning to the Father....Home! Jesus had missed home.
Thank You Jesus for entering into our dirty, sin-filled, broken world, for leaving Your home to redeem us and for going to prepare a place for us, in the Father's house. Home.
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