CHAPTER 3
WHEN GOD’S STORY BECOMES YOURS…
YOU FIND YOUR TRUE HOME
THINK ABOUT IT!
One of the best-loved stories ever is about a little girl who gets caught in a tornado and finds herself in a strange and colorful land called Oz. Have you ever watched the 1939 film The Wizard of Oz? Though the place is as brightly colored as a dream and filled with extraordinary characters, Dorothy has just one mission in Oz: to get back home to Kansas.
In a way, every story is about getting home, finding a home, or fixing something to make it the way it should be at home. Home is the place where you hope to find truth and justice and happiness and family. And love, of course.
Heroes are often driven to make things right (or escape what’s wrong). Good stories show heroes trying to make the world they live in better homes for themselves or others.
Your part in God’s story is a lot like that too. None of us are home yet. And we’ll never find the home we dream of in this life. Our only hope for the perfect home, the perfect family, the perfect love is in the life to come when we’ll finally be reunited with our Father.
FOR ALL WE DON’T KNOW ABOUT MR. HOLDEN HOWIE, OF one thing we can be certain. He knew his birds would find their way home. Several times a day the square-bodied, gray-bearded New Zealander retrieved one of his pigeons from his Auckland aviary. Securing the feathered courier with one hand, he affixed the correspondence with the other. Some birds carried as many as five messages at a time, each one written on cigarette paper. Mr. Howie then released the bird into the South Pacific sky. It flew straight as a string to its nest on Great Barrier Island.4
Between 1898 and 1908, Mr. Howie delivered thousands of messages. His birds were speedy. They could travel in two hours the distance a boat would traverse in three days. Dependable. Storms rarely knocked the pigeons off course, and they never called in sick. And, most notably, they were accurate. They could find their nest. Why else would we call them homing pigeons?
Other birds fly faster. Other birds are stronger. Other birds boast larger plumes or stronger claws. But none have the navigational skill of the homing pigeon.
Some scientists believe pigeons have traces of magnetite in their beaks and brains that interplay with the magnetic field of the earth.5 Others credit the birds’ sense of hearing. Do they pick up a frequency other birds miss? Or do they sniff out their target with a keen sense of smell?
What we know is this: pigeons have an innate home detector.
So do you.
What God gave pigeons, he gave to you. No, not bird brains. A guidance system. You were born heaven equipped with a hunger for your heavenly home. Need proof?
Consider your questions. Questions about death and time, significance and relevance. Animals don’t seem to ask the questions we do. Dogs howl at the moon, but we stare at it. How did we get here? What are we here for? Are we someone’s idea or something’s accident? Why on earth are we on this earth?
Brendon, 16 — Sometimes I find myself like the homing pigeon, wanting to fly straight to my destination, which is heaven, where there is no sin, there are perfect families, and where I can sit right next to Jesus Christ. But I find myself getting stuck in storms, like when I’m home with my broken family and sin all around me. But I am able to stay focused on my heavenly home while I’m here on my mission trying to lead my family and friends to Christ so they can fix their eyes on a greater and perfect earth.
We ask questions about pain. The words leukemia and child shouldn’t appear in the same sentence. And war. Can’t conflict go the way of phonograph records and telegrams? And the grave. Why is the dash between the dates on a tombstone so small? Something tells us this isn’t right, good, fair. This isn’t home.
From whence come these stirrings? Who put these thoughts in our heads? Why can’t we, like rabbits, be happy with carrots and copulation? Because, according to Jesus, we aren’t home yet.
Probably his best-known story follows the trail of a homeless runaway. Jesus doesn’t give us a name, just a pedigree: rich. Donald Trump rich. Paris Hilton spoiled rich. A silver-spooned, yacht-owning, trust-funded, blue-blooded boy. Rather than learn his father’s business, he disregarded his father’s kindness, cashed in his stock, and drove his Mercedes to the big city.
As fast as you can say dead broke, he was exactly that. No friends, no funds, no clue what to do. He ended up in a pigpen of trouble. He fed hogs, slept in the mud, and grew so hungry he gave serious consideration to licking the slop. That’s when he thought of home. He remembered lasagna, popcorn in the microwave, and family movie night. His warm bed, clean pajamas, and fuzzy slippers. He missed his father’s face and longed for his father’s voice. He looked around at the snorting pigs and buzzing flies and made a decision.
“I’ll turn the pigpen into a home.” He took out a loan from the piggy bank and remodeled the place. New throw rug over the mud. A La-Z-Boy recliner next to the trough. He hung a flat screen on the fence post, flipped the slop bucket upside down, and called it a lamp shade. He tied a ribbon on a sow’s head and called her honey. He pierced the ear of a piglet and called him son. Within short order he’d made a home out of the pigsty and settled in for the good life.
Okay, maybe he didn’t. But don’t we? Don’t we do our best to make this mess a home? Do up and doll up. Revamp and redecorate. We face-lift this. Overhaul that. Salt on the slop and whitewash for the posts. Ribbons for her and tattoos for him. And, in time, the place ain’t half bad.
We actually feel at home.
But then the flies come out. People die, earthquakes come, and nations rage. Families collapse, and children die of hunger. Dictators snort and treat people like, well, like pigs. And this world stinks.
And we have a choice. We can pretend this life is all God intended. Or…
We can come to our senses. We can follow the example of the prodigal son. “I will set out and go back to my father” (Luke 15:18).
Don’t you love the image of the son setting out for the homestead: rising out of the mud, turning his back to the pigs, and turning his eyes toward the father? This is Jesus’ invitation to us. Set your hearts on your home. “Seek first the kingdom of God” (Matthew 6:33 NKJV).
In his plan it’s all about the King and his kingdom. He wrote the script, built the sets, directs the actors, and knows the final act — an everlasting kingdom. “And this is [God’s] plan: At the right time he will bring everything together under the authority of Christ — everything in heaven and on earth” (Ephesians 1:10 NLT).
Reach for it!
The journey home is nice, but the journey is not the goal. I wrote part of this book on an airplane. As I looked around at fellow passengers, I saw content people. Thanks to books, pillows, and crossword puzzles, they passed the time quite nicely. But suppose this announcement were heard: “Ladies and Gentlemen, this flight is your final destination. We will never land. Your home is this plane, so enjoy the journey.”
Passengers would become mutineers. We’d take over the cockpit and seek out a landing strip. We wouldn’t settle for such an idea. The journey is not the destination. The vessel is not the goal. Those who are content with nothing more than joy in the journey are settling for too little satisfaction. Our hearts tell us there is more to this life than this life. We, like E.T., lift bent fingers to the sky. We may not know where to point, but we know not to call this airplane our home.
“God… has placed eternity in the human heart” (Ecclesiastes 3:11 NLT). Mr. Howie released his pigeons from Auckland, and God released his children from the cage of time. Our privilege is to keep flapping until we spot the island. Those who do will discover a spiritual cache, a treasure hidden in a field, a pearl of great value (Matthew 13:44–46). Finding the kingdom is like finding a winning lottery ticket in your sock drawer or locating the cover to the jigsaw puzzle box. “Oh, this is how it’s going to look.”
In God’s story, life on earth is but the beginning: the first letter of the first sentence in the first chapter of the great story God is writing with your life.
You will do your best work in heaven. Do you regret something you’ve done that you can’t seem to escape? So do I. We have an eternity to make up for lost time. Are you puzzled by the challenges of your days? Then see yourself as a diamond in the rough and God as a jeweler. He is polishing you for your place in his kingdom. Your biggest moments lie ahead, on the other side of the grave.
So “seek those things which are above, where Christ is, sitting at the right hand of God” (Colossians 3:1 NKJV). Scripture uses a starchy verb here. Zçteite (“to seek”) is to “covet earnestly, strive after, to inquire for, desire, even require.”
Seek heaven like a sailor seeks the coast or a pilot seeks the landing strip or a missile seeks heat. Head for home like a pigeon wings to the nest or the prodigal strode to his papa. “Think only about” it (3:2 NCV). “Keep your mind” on it (3:2 GWT). “Set your sights on the realities of heaven” (3:1 NLT). “Pursue the things over which Christ presides” (3:1 MSG). Obsess yourself with heaven!
And, for heaven’s sake, don’t settle for pigpens on earth.
I found myself saying something similar to my nephew and niece. I had taken them to the San Antonio Zoo, a perfect place for a three- and five-year-old to spend a Saturday afternoon. A veteran kid-guide, I knew the path to take. Start small and end wild. We began with the lowly, glass-caged reptiles. Next we oohed and aahed at the parrots and pink flamingos. We fed the sheep in the petting zoo and tossed crumbs to the fish in the pond. But all along I kept telling Lawson and Callie, “We’re getting closer to the big animals. Elephants and tigers are just around the corner.”
Finally we reached the Africa section. For full effect I told them to enter with their heads down and their eyes on the sidewalk. I walked them right up to the elephant fence.
And just when I was about to tell them to lift their eyes, Lawson made a discovery. “Look, a doodlebug!” “Where?” Callie asked.
“Here!” He squatted down and placed the pellet-sized insect in the palm of his hand and began to roll it around. “Let me see it!” Callie said.
I couldn’t lure them away. “Hey, guys, this is the jungle section.”
“Don’t you want to see the wild animals?”
No, they focused on the bug. There we stood, elephants to our left, lions to our right, only a stone’s throw from hippos and leopards, and what were they doing? Playing with a doodlebug.
Don’t we all? Myriads of mighty angels encircle us, the presence of our Maker engulfs us, the witness of a thousand galaxies and constellations calls to us, the flowing tide of God’s history carries us, the crowning of Christ as King of the universe awaits us, but we can’t get our eyes off the doodlebugs of life: paychecks, gadgets, vacations, and weekends.
Open your eyes, Christ invites. Lift up your gaze. “Seek first the kingdom of God” (Matthew 6:33 NKJV). Limit your world to the doodlebugs of this life, and, mark it down, you will be disappointed. Limit your story to the days between your birth and death, and brace yourself for a sad ending. You were made for more than this life.
Five hundred years ago, sailors feared the horizon. Sail too far and risk falling off the edge, they reasoned. Common wisdom of the ancients warned against the unseen. So did the monument at the Strait of Gibraltar. At its narrowest margin, Spaniards erected a huge marker that bore in its stone the three-word Latin slogan Ne plus ultra, or “No more beyond.”
But then came Christopher Columbus and the voyage of 1492. The discovery of the New World changed everything. Spain acknowledged this in its coins, which came to bear the slogan Plus ultra — “More beyond.”6
Why don’t you chisel the no off your future? God has set your heart on home. Keep flying until you reach it.
Mark, 16 — True happiness—that’s a tricky thing. It’s something everyone thirsts for but rarely experiences. True happiness honestly comes from God and nowhere else. We search for happiness in lonely places like drugs, sex, social class, our rank in school, money, and alcohol — it goes on and on. Those stories are not God’s stories. God’s story is the only one that brings lasting joy.
If happiness comes from God, we’ll find real joy when we’re home with him. Shazam!
DON’T JUST SIT THERE…
Thank God that this life is not your real life, that you have a home beyond this world where every broken thing will be perfect.
Make a quick list of five broken things that come with this life. Circle two that you will be most glad are not part of your real life in eternity with God.
Make a quick list of three things in this life that will be in heaven —but better there than they ever could be here.
Ask two good Christian friends if they ever daydream about what life in heaven will be like. If they do, ask what kinds of things they imagine.
If your parent is a Christian, ask them to help you make a list of all the loved ones they expect to meet in heaven.
Write down Colossians 3:1–4. Stick it up someplace where you’ll be forced to look at it every day for a week.