The Promise of Home
Noel K. Anderson
First Presbyterian Church of Upland
Text: 2 Peter 3: 1-13 NRSV
Welcome to Advent 2021! Advent is more than Christmas; it is the season of anticipation and waiting—both of which are good things. There is a hard negative kind of waiting made of impatience, but there is a positive kind of waiting as well—that’s anticipation—something we wait for and watch for with positive expectation and joy.
It’s exciting for us all—but especially for kids—to look forward to Christmas day. Eagerness, excitement, anticipation, and joy—all fill the days from here till Christmas--and even the waiting is lovely.
What exactly is it we wait for? For what do our hearts long? Part of that answer is home. Home—a place where we truly belong and know it—the place where we know others and are known for who we are.
The Longing for Home
Our hearts hunger for a place to belong and be at peace
All of our hearts long for home. It doesn’t matter if you lived in a different house every year of your childhood; it doesn’t matter if you still live in the same house as you were born into; what matters is that we have a hunger for that place of peace, rest, and belonging—a dwelling place for the heart.
Home and the idea of home is sacred, even to people who deny all things sacred. If you doubt this, try making fun of someone’s hometown; it gets under the skin. You can insult the guy’s face, car, family, or dog—but if you insult his hometown, you hit another level.
I grew up in Riverside during the smoggy sixties. I love Riverside—there are gorgeous neighborhoods, lovely homes, peaceful streets lined with palm trees or orange groves—I don’t understand why people from Irvine or Westwood get such a kick out of badmouthing Riverside. It feels offensive, and I haven’t lived there since 1972.
Do you have a hometown you can name? A town where your heart came into being? If so, you know what I mean. Jesus had a hometown—Nazareth—and people made fun of it. He had another hometown—Jerusalem—and he wept for it because it failed to fulfill every definition of home for him. The city which welcomed him warmly on Palm Sunday crucified him by Friday. And yet, he expresses his love for Jerusalem, albeit with a broken, unrequited heart. Matthew 23: 37b-38:
“How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you, desolate.”
Jerusalem was a failed home for Jesus. It never gave him rest or made him feel that he belonged.
As much as we love and long for the promise of home, it can’t quite fulfill what our hearts long for.
Church work sometimes takes me back to Riverside. I look forward to going there. I drive the old streets where I walked and rode my Schwinn Stingray. I hunt places that stick in my mind as backdrops to other thoughts. Like the alleyway which runs behind the homes on Magnolia—I remember which homes had dogs that barked when I pedaled past, and I hear those dogs today.
But I struggle to remember other things because I was a child. I never drove there but rode in the way-back—the family Country Squire station wagon (yes, with the simulated wood panels on the sides). My heart is hungry to drive down Beechwood and pull into our driveway, get out, go inside, and have dinner in the dining room. But that’s not it. I’m looking for my mother and father—hungry to hear their voices and feel their company. But I can’t, and I can’t even go into my old house because it has been defiled by interlopers, lo, these past fifty years.
The home my heart longs for is no longer in Riverside. That Riverside doesn’t exist anymore, and the thing I hunger for is like a ghost. For me, the idea of home only haunts Riverside, and home must be someplace else.
When Pilate questioned Jesus, he asked Him about His home and where He truly belonged. Jesus said:
“My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” [John 18:36]
One way or another, we learn that the home we deeply long for is not here at all.
HOME: not “here” at all
Hunger points to a “there”
As fond as we may feel for our hometown or house, there is nothing in this world that can satisfy what our souls long for. The search for home is the search for utter fulfillment, and that fulfillment can only be found with Christ.
With every memorial service I’ve done through the years, this becomes clearer. One of the most popular texts comes from John 14:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.”
Here is the promise of home from Christ himself. The deep longing in the heart for home depends upon this promise. We long for a home that is not here—a home that is there with Christ, and that is the home that fulfills the promise of home.
C.S. Lewis famously articulated this in Surprised by Joy. Lewis defines joy as “an unsatisfied desire which itself is more desirable than any other satisfaction” [Surprised by Joy, p.18]. Lewis says at the heart of joy is not complete satisfaction but a deep longing. At our happiest—in the most perfectly satisfied state—we remain hungry for something that is above and beyond us. We long for a home that is over our heads and out of sight.
Again, C.S. Lewis:
“Joy is distinct not only from pleasure in general but even from aesthetic pleasure. It must have the stab, the pang, the inconsolable longing.”
And:
“All Joy reminds. It is never a possession, always a desire for something longer ago or further away or still “about to be.”
Our joy is a longing for the promise of home—specifically, home with Christ that He is even now preparing for us. Our true home is eternal and with our loving Lord. We catch glimpses of that home here in peak moments—like a perfect Christmas, like a moment of harmony with nature, like love among family and friends during peacetime, and like the experience of beauty that cannot be put into words. We see glimpses and sample foretastes of that kingdom that is not of this world yet pointed to by this world.
The promise of home with Christ is our constant joy in this world.
When Jesus Returns
Like a thief, a Son of Man, and a Bridegroom
Our text from 2 Peter is all about the return of Christ and the establishment of our hearts’ deepest longing. The return of Christ is spoken of in pictures—like a thief in the night,” like the “Son of Man, on the clouds with power and glory,” and like a bridegroom, coming to collect his bride.
The thief in the night imagery tells us that it will happen unexpectedly and unpredictably. Those Christians obsessed with guessing when Jesus will return need to remember this. Unexpectedly means we are not going to know when. We just have to be watchful and ready.
The Son of Man arriving in power and glory makes it clear that Jesus is Lord, not just a prophet. He acts and moves with the full power and authority of Heaven to bring forth an irresistible victory against the powers of darkness—sin, death, Hell, and devils—and all powers will be finally and completely defeated. The reign of Jesus and the knowledge that He alone is King will be absolutely undeniable.
But the bridegroom imagery is the most compelling, for it tells us a love story. In ancient Judaism, the way weddings happened was roughly like this: the bridegroom-to-be cuts a deal with the father of the bride before pledging his troth—his truth and faith—at which point they are strongly engaged. The betrothal included the marriage service with the exchange of rings and sealing the deal with a cup of wine. They were legally married, though they didn’t yet live together.
During this preparation or engagement time—usually nine months to a year—the groom goes off and prepares a house for he and his bride to live in. She makes her wedding garments and prepares herself in every way for her husband.
Neither the bride nor the groom know when the wedding will take place. That is usually up to the father of the groom. If someone were to ask the groom, “When’s the wedding ceremony?” he would have answer, “Only my Father knows for sure!” Sound familiar?
When the time was right, the groom’s father would issue approval for the ceremony. The groom and his wedding party would leave his house and go to get his bride. The bride and her bridesmaids would not know the day or hour of his arrival, so they just stayed watchful and waited.
The groom’s wedding party collected the bride and brought her to her new home. The wedding vows are exchanged, wine is drunk, and then there is a great wedding feast. The chief honoree at the wedding feast is the groom, and guests recite songs, poems, or other tributes to his honor. The couple now live as husband and wife, happily ever after.
I know you picked it up while I described it, but the Church is the bride of Christ. We are betrothed—consecrated—to Him. He prepares a place for us and we await his return with anticipation and joy. When the time is right, the shofar will sound and we will be called forth to the wedding feast, where we will give all glory and honor to Christ.
“Soon” How now is soon?
God is above and beyond time and space
So here we are, waiting for Christ to return. We’ve been waiting nearly two thousand years, so what is meant by “soon” as in “He’s coming soon” because that was clearly the message. Many people raised in the faith have become discouraged by this because it seems either the second coming already happened or else Jesus was wrong. It’s obvious that the second coming hasn’t happened —come on, look at the world!—so Jesus must have been wrong. As if those are the only options.
This isn’t a modern issue. We hear it in Peter’s letter in the first century, and they had the same problem. Verse 4:
“Where is the promise of his coming? For ever since our ancestors died, all things continue as they were from the beginning of creation!”
Some voices today are no different.
Let’s all remember that God is outside of time and space. God doesn’t need a watch because He looks at time and history the way we look at a timeline. For God, there is no past, present, or future because God holds it all as one. Jesus is the Alpha and Omega, which is Revelation’s central message, and it means that Christ is eternal, beyond and outside of time. As Peter says,
“…with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day.” [v.8]
Because:
“The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance.”
Catch that: God wants no one to perish and all to come to repentance. That’s our work—the mission of the Church in time, space, and history. The Father, who is outside of time, looks into time and says, “Not yet—we’re still working on it.”
In context, “soon” means “it’s as good as done.”
Anticipating Home
Our future hope is our present joy.
So we live this life in joy and hope of the promise of home. Like children awaiting Christmas day, we wait with eager longing for Christ’s fulfillment of all things. This is the beauty of Advent—it is a living analogy for our age—the age of the Church—as we joyfully count down the days toward the fulfillment of Christmas.
That hunger for home in our hearts will be fulfilled, but only by Christ, not Christmas itself.
There are healthy ways to watch and wait and not-so-healthy ways. We are told to be watchful and ready, but that doesn’t mean it’s our job to busy ourselves obsessively trying to calculate the day and hour of Christ’s return. That is not what readiness means—in fact, I consider all of that Second Coming-ism a fruitless waste of time and effort. What? Do you think there are bonus points for those whose guess comes closest? No, when Jesus returns suddenly and unexpectedly, let Him find us working our jobs—loving our neighbors, glorifying God, and calling the world to repentance. And we can and should do so with eager longing, for that is the substance of our earthly joy.
We wait and watch with eager longing as we stand on the promises of Christ. That is the substance of our Christian faith—standing on the promises and living by the promises of God.
We live these days alert and awake in eager longing and expectation of Christ’s return and the fulfillment of that promise, just like children waiting for Christmas.
We wait and watch like the bridal party—gladly and excitedly aware that our true home is being readied for us and soon to be revealed--our true, true home—the place of peace, safety, belonging, and perfect eternal love.
And like members of the groom’s party, we go forward announcing that He’s on His way—He’s coming soon—and we should all stay awake and be ready. The home we so hunger for is coming. Soon. †
Questions
- Talk about the sights, sounds, and smells that you most strongly associate with the word “home.”
- 2. What is your hometown, if you can name one? What is special about it?
- 3. C. S. Lewis says that joy is a “longing.” Do you agree or disagree?
- 4. Why is the ongoing longing for Christ’s return a good thing for the Church?
- 5. As God stands above and beyond time and space, how does that affect our understanding of the future?
- 6. What is a good attitude for Christians to have about the Second Coming?
- 7. “Standing on the Promises” suggests our faith is more about trusting God than any personal, spiritual efforts. Do you agree or disagree? Discuss.