Our family is in the process of moving to Florida from Maryland. I will be joining the staff of a church as the co-pastor. My wife and daughter have already moved down there with our "stuff".
I am staying in Maryland because my current church is keeping me on for a few months to aid in the transition of my responsibilities here. I'm glad they are, because my new church in Florida is not in the position to pay me, so I have to find a job to support my family.
This week I am sleeping at friend's house. Next week I will be sleeping at a different friend's house. The next, week, a different friend. All of my stuff that I didn't load onto our moving truck is crammed into the back of my Mini Cooper. Because I am a man without a home.
I will commute via air, working three-and-a-half days in Maryland, and three-and-a-half days in Florida. This will begin after the first of the year. It should be fun.
That's my story. It reminds me of the story of another man without a home. He began his life being born in a borrowed feed trough in a borrowed cattle stall. He once said of himself that he had no place to lay his head.
He also traveled a lot. Not so much commuting, but rather purposeful journeys on foot to be involved in people's lives.
All of his clothes weren't crammed into the back of his Mini Cooper, but rather were worn on his back.
This same man without a home gave up his life so I could have a home in heaven. Now that ought to be fun!
Question: Have you ever felt that you didn't have a home? Share your thoughts below in responses.
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