At home

Live in me.  Make your home in me just as I do in you.  In the same way that a branch can’t bear grapes by itself but only by being joined to the vine, you can’t bear fruit unless you are joined with me.

Yes, I’m back in John 15:4 again.  Busyness and tiredness often seem to drive me here and every time I read again as if for the first these words.

Words of invitation.  Words of gentle encouragement.

A call to come.  To make my home, as Eugene Peterson later writes, in his love.

And I reflect again upon what that means.  I turn it over and over in my mind.  And I see that, though so often his whispered word to me in this is a bidding to come rest, it is yet also an invitation to find him in the midst of the busyness.

The run-raggedness, the endlessness of juggling, the task-upon-taskness of it all: these things are not a barrier to the John 15 dynamic.  Busyness need not mean a failure to abide.  What matters is that even in my frazzled running I can sit back and know that I choose to do none of this in my own strength, that he will make the decisions about what I get done and what falls to the side, that he alone is the vine and I am but a branch depending entirely on his lifegiving strength.

To make my home in him.  It means not that I sit quietly in a place of sanctuary, of ‘home’.  It means that wherever I am, whether at work or at rest, I am at home.  Whether filled with joy or desperation, well-rested or sleep-deprived, firm in faith or of nearly no faith at all, whatever my circumstance, I am at home and everything I do is an abiding in him.  I am at home in his love because he is at home in me, my life entirely constituted by our union.  And now – dependent upon this union – I am always at home because, breathtakingly, everywhere is now him.

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