This past week, I’ve slept in four hotels, visited five towns, flown on 6 flights, given seven speeches, ordered 10 restaurant meals, and ate 13 little bags of pretzels. I rarely leave home without my wife, but this week I did. I like to tell people that when I travel without her, I shave one leg. That way, when I climb into bed at night, it feels like she’s right there beside me. But it’s not true. When I climb into bed at night, I’m fully aware that she’s not with me. I’m fully aware that I’m far from home.

When my final flight touches down, I have it down to a science. I sit as close to first class as I can. I squeeze past stragglers on the gangway. I walk down the escalator, sometimes two steps at a time. I sprint to my car, hoping for green lights, longing for the lights of home. The gal who loves me is there. My own bed. My own fridge. Ah, home.

We all long for home. Just check the country charts. Hundreds of hit songs have been written about it. “The Green Green Grass of Home.” “My Old Kentucky Home.” I think my favourite song of home is from Carrie Underwood. She tells of an old man in a hospital bed surrounded by people he loves. “Don’t cry for me,” he whispers. “I’ll see you all someday.” He looks up and says, “I can see God’s face.” Then comes the chorus, “This is my temporary home. It’s not where I belong, windows in rooms that I’m passin’ through. This was just a stop, on the way to where I’m going, I’m not afraid because I know this was my temporary home.”

In the book of Revelation, we read of graphic battles and fiery pits. And in the midst of it all, we encounter earth-shattering hope. John writes, “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and He will live with them…He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

No obituary columns, no funerals, no gravestones. No First Aid kits, no Band-Aids, no dentist office, no divorce court, no police station. No anxiety, no depression, no worry, no fear. What would you give for a home like that?

A little girl lived close to a graveyard. She was asked, “Aren’t you afraid to go through the cemetery?” She laughed and said, “No. My home is on the other side.” If you’ve trusted Christ as Saviour, heaven is your final destination. Each meal, each pretzel, each sleep, each flight, takes us one step closer to home.

Phil Callaway

Phil Callaway, the host of Laugh Again, is an award-winning author and speaker, known worldwide for his humorous yet perceptive look at life.

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