Weary would be an accurate description for several members of my family.
Weary from chronic migraines.
Weary from job loss.
Weary from navigating a “new normal.”
Weary from the physical, mental, and emotional demands of serving special needs children at work.
Weary from travel.
Weary from heartache.
Weary from two-year-olds.
Weary from _________.
Weary from life.
Thankfully, there is an end to that weariness. I have often joked that “This World is Not My Home” is one of my theme songs, in light of the variety of places I have lived and cultures I have come to know. I have proclaimed that song as a badge of honor that transcends the borders that this finite world develops and maintains.
However, I have been convicted about a truer meaning of the lyrics and title of that song.
This world is not my home, I’m just a-passin’ through. My treasures are laid up, somewhere beyond the blue. The angels beckon me from heaven’s open door. And I can’t feel at home in this world anymore...
I’m not supposed to feel at home here. The weariness I dread is part of the groans of an imperfect earth that longs to go home.
I am going to claim a new perspective on my weariness: a reminder of my true home...
Where we will rest.
We will have eternity to enjoy the transformation into spiritual perfection.
No pain.
No more physical, mental, or emotional demands.
No more travel, except to cross the streets of gold and hang with other Christians.
No more heartache.
No more frustrations.
Eternal life.
True home.