Do you remember those times when you reeeeeaaaaaaalllllllllllllllllly wanted to go to your friends house as a kid?
You didn’t go there often, but they had the COOLEST room. The kids who had been talked about it all the time.
“There’s like, a million things to do there! And her mom makes the best snacks. Oh you haven’t been? Well, its just THE BEST.”
So that one time you get invited over you get super excited. Finally, you will be able to talk about it with everyone. You’ll be able to say you’ve now experienced it ALL. Playing with the big dogs.
But it just so happens your room is a complete disaster. Your mom hates when bundled clothes are left on the dresser, and theres a big one. Your toy horses are sprawled out and cover most of the floor. Mismatched dirty socks lay amongst shoes that were dropped right in front of your door. It needs some real work.
You start getting ready to go to this super awesome house, practically bouncing around those toy horses with excitement. Then your mom walks in.
“You were suppose to clean this room last night. You know the rules. I’m sorry sweetie, but you’ll have to go over another time.”
Tears. Maybe a little screaming. Definitely throwing yourself on your bed and digging your face into the pillow.
Eventually you end your pity party and start to clean your room. You put all your clothes away, maybe trying a few on because you haven’t worn them in a while. You pick up your horses, but stop to play with them along the way. You forgot how much fun the toys in here are. You wash your socks. You make the bed. It takes a while, but it was worth it. You stand in front of your door, hands on your hips, and smile. Your mom walks in.
“Good work! Doesn’t that feel so much better?”
It does. You’re proud of your room. You love this home you’ve decorated and filled. This place you’ve grown in.
This longer than intended analogy came into my head on my run this evening. I’ve been praying and thinking about where I’m meant to be so much these past couple days (this whole past semester, really) and the more I do, the more I feel called to be here.
I had all these statistics prepared to start this post with about all the problems in this country, but I’m sure you already know them. We are a lost and broken people. Yes, we (the lost and broken) are all over the world, but I want to work on cleaning my room first. I’m not saying I won’t be moved to missions over seas which I still reeeeeaaaaaaalllllllllllllllllly want to do, but I know for now, I’m meant to be here.
For one of the top “Christian Nations” in the world, we have some work to do. I can get frustrated with the materialistic, sexaholic, addicted, money-hungry people around me, or I can live in this world but not of it. I can see that they are really just as lost as I was before I found Christ. I can be burdened with their hurt and their failed attempt to cope. I can deepen my roots and grow where I’m planted. I can grow and be proud of where I am, even though I’ll hear all about how amazing another place is. I can work here, hoping that when I’m done, I’ll enter into my eternal home to hear my Father say,
“Good work my daughter. You have been a faithful servant. Now come on in, doesn’t that feel so much better?”