Mark 6:1
The other night I watched the movie A Knight’s Tale. One of my favorite parts in the movie is at the end when Roland, William, Geoffrey, and Wat were riding back into England and the song, The Boys Are Back in Town, begins to play. It gets me all excited! I start picturing that music playing as I ride in to North Carolina each trip I go home. I’m at home now and that music didn’t play. (Well, I did hum it a little as I began seeing all the street signs I recognized).
It’s been good to be home so far. I haven’t done much of anything besides go for a walk to the local grocery store and have a short jog around my parent’s community. I slept a little late on July 4th and had a great chicken sandwich for lunch. It doesn’t get any better than this for me. I’m home and so far I haven’t been quite as stressed as I feel when I’m in Nashville.
In Nashville, I constantly have things I need to do. But not home (My parents like to try and give me things to do, but this time I didn’t have it)! Usually, churches from around home like me to preach at their church when I am in town so that they don’t have to pay me for my travel. This time, I came into town unannounced, so I haven’t been asked to speak.
In Mark, Jesus didn’t seemingly have the luxury of going somewhere and not preaching. Either He preached because He wanted to or people naturally figured out He was in town and would find Him to ask Him questions. As soon as Jesus left healing the bleeding woman and raising the little girl from the dead, He and His disciples went home (I like to think that since He knew everything He hummed The Boys are Back in Town song too).
I wonder if He went home because He was tired and wanted to rest. I mean, when the bleeding woman touched His garment He felt power leave Him (Mark 5:30). Can you imagine the power it must have taken out of Him to raise the little girl from death? I’m sure a lot, and since Jesus was said to have understood all we feel, He must have needed to go somewhere that He could rest up. I mean, after a hard days work, I like to go home to rest. Maybe I am different from everyone else, but this is where Jesus went too.
Home is an interesting word to me. It seems to have lots of meanings that people throw around when trying to guilt someone in to going somewhere. For me, it usually comes in the form of this, “You need to come home and see all these people that love you!” But home (and I looked it up in the online Merriam-Webster dictionary) is defined by a bunch of words (ie house, habitat, headquarters, home plate) that one can think of to understand home, but not truly define it. Home then, must be a place that we can go that provides us a place to relax and be loved when we are just being ourselves.
I guess I have a couple of those places, North Carolina is definitely one, but the other is the gym for me. When I’m in the gym the only access people can have to me is by walking up to me on the treadmill. Where are your homes? Where can you be you and still be loved? For all of us, whether we like the churchy answer or not, one of those places is in the arms of Jesus. Psalm 144:2 states that He is our “fortress, my (our) stronghold and my (our) deliverer, my (our) shield, in whom I (we) take refuge, who subdues peoples under me (us).”