The kingdom of Jesus is coming, and with it the life I am longing for.

I am no longer lost, wondering about purpose.

I am secure, finally loved; understand who I am and where I belong.

But this is not home.

This melancholy feeling is homesickness for Jesus.

How does one get used to the endless waiting at the same time as anticipation of glory?

It is not in me to desire the paraded welcome home of a hero long gone returning in triumph to accolades and honor.

My deepest heart is to nest, to nurture, to provide home, to belong and have those who 

belong to me.

This life has not afforded me that luxury.

And I cannot foresee it happening.

So yes I long for a home with my Jesus – and oh I know He will not be mine alone – but to share time together.

And rest.

I long for rest.

Perhaps it’s the same thing.