If we ever get lost, remember home: that place you and God first met. That’s home.
Remember what it was to be a lost sheep and being found by your Shepherd. Remember what it was like to know you had found the answer to everything, the reason for everything, the hope you had always been searching for. Remember that day Jesus covered you in His own blood to wash you white as snow. Remember what it was to be in God’s arms for the very first time: Home.
Today, two years ago, I gave my heart to God. And I’ll admit, I forget sometimes. I don’t see the significance of my salvation. It wasn’t until a past event happen that God reminded me of it: who I was, where I was, how broken I was without Him.
I like to call God my “Home”.
It’s a picture of the safest place you can be. To be totally yourself; flaws, smells, attitudes and all. It’s a place where masks are ripped off and covers are stripped down.
I want to encourage anyone reading this (especially Christians who fell hopeless) to invite yourself Home. Take off your shoes, sit in front of the fire place, grab a cup of tea and sit with Jesus. Let him remind you of when you first arrived Home, and how much He missed you.