A few days ago, Pandora played Rich Mullins singing his song, “If I Stand.” Here’s the chorus:
So if I stand let me stand on the promise that you will pull me through
And if I can’t, let me fall on the grace that first brought me to You
And if I sing let me sing for the joy that has born in me these songs
And if I weep let it be as a man who is longing for his home
That last line brought back a memory. When I was a sophomore in high school, my church invited the chorale from Western Bible Institute (Littleton, Colorado) to present a concert over spring break. That night, as I heard about WBI, I knew that was where I wanted to go to college. That fall, my brother packed up his car and started his first year at WBI. At first, I was upset because that was my choice; however, I realized that with my brother there, my parents were more open to me going, which I did.
In August 1973, I added my stuff to the car and my brother and I drove the 953 miles to college. I was 17 years old and had never been away from home for longer than a week. But I was ready and excited. Colorado was beautiful and it was where I wanted to be.
Until Thanksgiving.
My parents didn’t have enough money to bring us home for Thanksgiving when Christmas was only a few weeks away. So, I watched as all the other students went home for Thanksgiving, and I remained behind. In fact, I was the only girl in the dorms that weekend. The administration asked my brother to move into the lobby so that I wouldn’t be there alone.
On Thanksgiving Day, we were invited to the home of a lady in our church along with many other students in the area who were away from home. Her home was lovely, the table beautifully set, and there was plenty of food and conversation. As an introvert, I listened, but sank into myself, ready to leave.
Arriving back on campus, I went to my room and sobbed and sobbed. I missed my home, my parents, my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. I missed my mom’s turkey dressing, my dad’s cornbread dressing and corn fritters. I missed my home. My poor brother just held me while I sobbed uncontrollably.
I still remember the overwhelming feeling of longing for home, even to this day.
A few times in the past 50+ years I have felt that feeling again – but not for my earthly home. No, I feel that longing for my heavenly home. The one Jesus has promised where He is preparing a place for me (John 14:2-3). The one where my citizenship is forever. The place where, one by one, my grandparents, parents, cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends are going. Most importantly, the place where Jesus waits to welcome me to live with Him.
Too often my life gets caught up in the here and now, but when I stop and listen to my heart, I remember that I don’t belong here. I belong to Him and with Him.
Taking It Further:
How do you remind yourself that this is not your real home? Did you ever have a time of longing for home?
If I Stand
by Rich Mullins
There’s more that rises in the morning than the sun
And more that shines in the night than just the moon
It’s more than just this fire here that keeps me warm
In a shelter that is larger than this room
And there’s a loyalty that’s deeper than mere sentiments
And a music higher than the songs that I can sing
The stuff of Earth competes for the allegiance
I owe only to the Giver of all good things
So if I stand let me stand on the promise that you will pull me through
And if I can’t, let me fall on the grace that first brought me to You
And if I sing let me sing for the joy that has born in me these songs
And if I weep let it be as a man who is longing for his home
There’s more that dances on the prairies than the wind
More that pulses in the ocean than the tide
There’s a love that is fiercer than the love between friends
More gentle than a mother’s when her baby’s at her side