When my kids were little and I thought my days were rough. I couldn’t wait until Rick got home. I’d station one little boy at the window, another at the door and they would wait expectantly. Some couples make a big deal of greeting each other warmly, I think I just told the kids, “Daddy’s home!!!” and had them run outside to greet him. I’m sure the cheers were heart-warming to him, but the peace and quiet were my goals.
I was selfish and I pretty much remain selfish now. I was waiting for my husband, my
partner, the love of my life, to come home because I needed a break from the demands of being a mom of small children. I wasn’t anticipating his return because of how much I loved him and wanted to see him, though I did love him and want to see him. Instead, I wanted him home because I was thinking about me.
In the same way, I have been thinking recently and regularly of how the changes in culture, post-modernism, and political turmoil have all made me long for the return of Christ. I see diminished options for our national future and I have less hope for the future of our children and grandchildren and even the church. So– Come, Lord Jesus, Maranatha!
I’m doing the same thing, am I not? A friend wisely reminded me that there is no wrong
reason to long for the return of Christ, but I don’t think my heart is completely right on this. I want to wait expectantly for the second coming of Christ, not as just relief from the burdens of this world, but because of how much I love him and long to see his face. I want to be so in love with my Savior that I can’t wait to be with him because where he is–is my true home.