But Christ as a Son over His own house, whose house we are if we hold fast the confidence and the rejoicing of the hope firm to the end.
To me, one of the biggest differences in being a Christian (or not) is where we live. We know we live in a body, and most bodies live in houses. Upon these two facts, all people agree.
When we grow up, we go to work. We live in the world. Undeniably, the world is full of hatred, lies, confusion and crime. Injustice is everywhere: on the streets, in the courthouse, at our jobs--even in schools and churches. Upon these facts, people also agree.
But the houses in which true Christians live are vastly different from the houses of the world. For old me and others who don't know God...
To escape the anger, pain, and poverty of our homes, we seek relief. Temporary relief can come from recreation, friends, family, shopping, meals, entertainment, or any seemingly innocent activity that occupies our minds for a time. Many look toward money and position for what seems to be a more permanent fix.
Others who are not so clever or determined look for relief from obviously poor choices: overeating, alcohol, drugs, shopping, or promiscuity. Even Christians can visit these districts. Still others surrender to the darkness around them. They become victims or predators.
For me and my house, we looked to many of the world's best options for a good life, but they never lasted longer than a little while--what now seems like just 'a minute.' Jobs weren't perfect. People weren't nice. Stuff got old. Friends left. Families fought. True joy was rare, and our house was ruled by frustration, anger, and division.
Sad Street, Argument Avenue, Boasting Boulevard, and Rumble Road: that's where we lived. Though we tried to escape, that was our home. We always returned there.
To Be Continued...
P.S. To read the other devotions in this series, please see the Where Do You Live? series.