Maybe this is home…
Esmeraldas.
It’s a city in a third world country. Really. Full of intensely repulsive smells, wild animals, and dirt that would clog any air filter within days. Let alone its reputation for being a “dangerous” city by many Ecuadorians.
This is the place we arrived on Sunday.
The drive through the mountains was awesome. But as we came closer and closer to our destination I could tell it was going to be interesting. The faces of the people became darker and darker, and the air became more and more dirty and humid.
Our hotel is a ghetto like facility run by Christians. They have verses all over the walls on the inside and outside of the rooms. Aside from this, I don’t know what makes them Christian. Things are quite dirty. There are bugs everywhere. They turn off the air as soon as we leave the rooms. And we get towels enough for all of us only every other time they clean the room. This isn’t even referring to the bathroom stench that reeks to every part of our little room.
I wasn’t phased at the situation. I've traveled enough now to be chill at quite a bit. I was slightly uncomfortable to be sure, but I thought it would be a really interesting adventure more than anything else.
This was before we went out to the school where we’d be hosting another children’s program in the evening, and an English and character class in the mornings.
Monday night when we arrived at the school I was coming down with a cold. The humidity was horrible. The dirt in the air was clogging both my pores and my lungs in a painful way. We all arrived that evening and marched up the stairs to the materials room where we were greeted by the stench of vomit – where someone’s dinner hadn’t sat well with them. We walked around the mess on the floor to our room, but the smell became worse and worse – repugnant and strong.
The materials room was going to be synonymous with our studio – where we’d be working on our Global Encounters promo along with shooting the Children’s program and leaders.
I was hardly impressed.
It was practically a bedroom. An 8-x8 feet of space with a bed, a TV, a small desk area, and a bathroom. It was dirty everywhere. The materials were unorganized. The bathroom door didn’t stay shut so we had to secure it with a hair band.
It was, without a doubt, the most uncomfortable situation I had ever been in, with all of my life.
It only became worse when one of the other girls said cheerfully, “this is probably the school’s sick bay.”
Hardly my definition of a studio.
Here and now I confess my bad attitude. I was not happy with where things were. I wasn’t happy with the horrible condition of the bathroom, or the dirt on every single chair, or the dust that covered the desk. Was there nowhere I could be comfortable!
And it was in the moment that I was sulking about spending my evening there that I realized something. I was comparing this place to the comfort of my home. Only, I wasn’t comparing it to my real home…
My real home is exactly where Jesus calls me. Because wherever He calls me is wherever He will be. And my home is with Him.
So weather I am in a dirty bedroom, stench filled bathroom, or sickbay / studio, my home is wherever Jesus is.
It reminded me of that verse from Luke. There was a man pledging to Jesus an undying loyalty of following Him wherever He went. Instead of taking the man at His word, Jesus explained that He had nowhere to lay His head. No place of comfort. No place which resonated of the belonging of home.
I often wondered why Jesus said that. But now I realize the truth.
Many people feel the excitement of the seeming “glamour” of following Jesus wherever He went. But you know what? That motivation will hardly last you through the dirtiest, most reeking places on earth. It won’t keep you going after ministering through long days of sickness or exhaustion. Not even close.
The only thing that will propel someone to continue in the hard work of following after Jesus is the absolute and complete assurance that “home” is wherever He has called you – for in that calling is exactly where He will be.
It reminds me of that song from Switchfoot:
I’ve got my memories
Always inside of me
But I can’t go back
Back to how it was
I believe you now.
I’ve come too far.
No I can’t go back
Back to how it was.
Created for a place I’ve never known.
This is home.
Now I’m finally where I belong,
Where I belong
Yeah this is home.
I’ve been searching for a place of my own
Now I’ve found it maybe this is home.
Yeah this is home.
Belief over misery.
I’ve seen the enemy.
And I won’t go back
Back to how it was.
I’ve got my heart set
On what happens next
I’ve got my eyes wide
It’s not over yet
We need a miracle.
And we’re not alone.
Jesus will last me through any and every experience I will encounter across the globe: Because He, yes, Jesus…He is my home.
(Disclaimer: Please forgive the lack of grammar and technical elements to this note. It was written after we got back to our hotel at 1am on Wednesday morning. I thought it would be nice to post these random thoughts rather than nothing at all…)
PS - Keep praying for us as we work on the promo. We did another short interview today, have portraits for the final piece, and will continue our compiling...
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