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8/8/2019 The Courage It Takes to Go Home
http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/the-courage-it-takes-to-go-home 1/11
i
The Courage it Takes to Go Home
By Thom Hunter
http://thom-signsofastruggle.blogspot.com/
Did you leave things un-opened in dusty old attics way back down the road
somewhere
In boxes you sealed and callously labeled "open only if you really dare?"
Did your words slip away, unspoken and wasted, and your thoughts vanish into the
air
When you turned on the car and drove away crying, thinking no one still there would
care?
Go home.
Throw open the attic of yesterday and re-fill with the hope of tomorrow Re-label the box and tear off the seals that for too long have held hidden sorrow.
Let flow words of peace, re-claim thoughts of love, cover each memory with grace
Through healing and growing, repenting and seeking, return to a different place.
Go home.
8/8/2019 The Courage It Takes to Go Home
http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/the-courage-it-takes-to-go-home 2/11
Even though "over the river and through the woods" has, for many -- at least this
year -- been replaced with a walk through the scan and a pat down, it isstill
Thanksgiving, and for most of us that means going home. To tell the truth, the
invasiveness of the TSA is just a precursor of the closer examinations that will take
place during dining table discourse and in recliner-crowded conversations betweensnores and during commercials. Going home is not always easy, whether it is a slow
drive over leaf-covered country roads . . . or a cramped ride in a cattle-car jet.
Neither route overrides the memories of past travels to and fro.
It takes more than a smile and slice of pumpkin pie to make some things all right.
Pack an extra helping of healing for the hurting.
I think of Thanksgiving as perhaps the strongest of the holidays because it is built on
yearning. Not wanting, like so much of Christmas, not haunting like Halloween, not
flaunting like Valentines, or even vaunting like the 4th of July. No, Thanksgiving isthat holiday that yearns for all to be right and real, whole and good, restored and
reclaimed, life as we remember it, or as we want to. On this day, we timidly bring our
self as the gift and we hesitantly take the gifts of others in the grand exchange.
There's little tinsel or flowers or fireworks to glamour up the who-we-ares. Yet, linger
still the masks of Halloween and the who-we-want-to-bes.
It's just so hard to go back home sometimes, wondering who will look older or act
wiser or walk slower or talk lower. We want to be noticed for all the right reasons and
left alone for all the wrong ones. What hard knocks have left their marks? Who has
soared, achieved, and risen? Anyone stumbled? Is there a recipe of revelationwaiting to be tested?
There's something constant about the inconsistency of Thanksgiving. Jello salad
colors change, but Jello it still remains. Turkeys roast or turkeys fry but you still save
room for favorite pie. It rains . . . it snows . . . it's awfully dry . . . but the leaves on the
way to the door still crunch. Grandpas die and babies cry yet there's always the
same big old bunch for the lunch.
Sometimes, it takes a lot of courage to go home. All too often, home is not only
where the heart is; it's also where the hurt is, where the process began that led tothe brokenness. For some, it was a distant dad, an abusive uncle, an overbearing
mother, a bullying cousin, a generous broken relative all too anxious to share his
brokenness and pass it on to you. These stereotypes can, of course, be mixed and
matched.
For others, Thanksgiving is loneliness in the middle of the many, time alone on a
back-porch step listening to the laughter from the other side of the door while
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don't really go there. The menu is enticing, but we're afraid one important ingredient
might have been neglected. Love. It's what we're all really there for. It's okay to burn
the rolls, or forget to turn on the oven, or, heaven forbid, bring only the whole-berry
cranberry, but don't forget the love. Bring it home.
Interestingly, Jesus, when He healed people, did not tell them to "go start a new lifesomewhere else." He said, in essence, "go home."
Jesus told the paralyzed man, whom He healed, to go home:
But I want you to know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive
sins.” So He said to the paralyzed man, “I tell you, get up, take your mat and go
home.” Immediately he stood up in front of them, took what he had been lying on
and went home praising God.
-- Luke 5:24-25
Jesus told the bleeding woman, whom He healed . . . not to run away . . .. but to go
in peace:
And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years, but no
one could heal her. She came up behind Him and touched the edge of his cloak, and
immediately her bleeding stopped.
“Who touched Me?” Jesus asked.
When they all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the people are crowding and pressing
against You.”
But Jesus said, “Someone touched Me; I know that power has gone out from Me.”
Then the woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at
His feet. In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched Him and
how she had been instantly healed. Then He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has
healed You. Go in peace.”
-- Luke 8:43-48
Jesus was not a run-and-hide kind of guide. He called Zacchaeus down out of a tree.
Why? So He, Jesus, could go to stay at Zacchaeus' home. Yes, that Zacchaeus, the
well-known local sinner and tax collector. Oh, for shame? Oh . . . for love!
When Jesus reached the spot, He looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come
down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” So he came down at once and
welcomed Him gladly. All the people saw this and began to mutter, “He has gone to
be the guest of a sinner.”
8/8/2019 The Courage It Takes to Go Home
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-- Luke 19:5-7.
Still, even with Jesus' example, it sometimes takes a little courage to go home alone.
After 35 years, I'm doing that myself this year. While my wife stays back here at our
home because her mother cannot travel, I am going on alone . . . home. I will, nodoubt, spend the hours on the road thinking of the days of the crowded van, the
crying babies, the endless potty breaks, the teenage fights over music on the radio,
the legs too long for the backseat, rolling eyes, bad jokes, spilled drinks, last-minute
tearful tangle-removing as Lisa would prepare Lauren for the grand entrance and the
rounds of "we're here" hugs. I will find myself wondering how these people I know,
who now really know me, are anxious to see me. And on my way home, I will be
thankful for old memories of sleeping, exhausting children splayed throughout the
van, and for new memories of my original family that has learned to see each other
the way Jesus saw Zacchaeus in the tree. He welcomed him gladly. Can you
imagine how thankful Zacchaeus was to come down out of that tree?
Our years are filled with pain and gain, with joy and loss, with cheers and tears,
warm hugs and cold turning-aways, with victories, defeats, heights and depths, the
coming-ins and the going-outs. And yet, we give thanks. Always.
Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
-- 1Thessalonians 5:18
Be courageous. Don't ignore the pain of the past, but don't let the pain of the past
push away the promise of the day, which, by the way, the Lord has made. Rejoice.
Be glad. Laugh. Get fat. Go home.
We will have pain in this world. Just ask Jesus about that too. But what did Jesus do
after he endured all that pain?
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in Me. My
Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am
going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will
come back and take you to be with Me that you also may be where I am. You know
the way to the place where I am going.”
-- John 14:1-4
8/8/2019 The Courage It Takes to Go Home
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He went home.
To His Father's house.
To fix your room for you.
We will always be able to go home.
Happy Thanksgiving,
Thom
Thom Hunter Author of Surviving Sexual Brokenness: What Grace Can Do, WestBow PressSigns of a StruggleThe Weight of Who I Am
things un-opened in dusty old attics way back down the road somewhere
In boxes you sealed and callously labeled "open only if you really dare?"
Did your words slip away, unspoken and wasted, and your thoughts vanish into the
air
When you turned on the car and drove away crying, thinking no one still there would
care?
Go home.
Throw open the attic of yesterday and re-fill with the hope of tomorrow
Re-label the box and tear off the seals that for too long have held hidden sorrow.
Let flow words of peace, re-claim thoughts of love, cover each memory with grace
Through healing and growing, repenting and seeking, return to a different place.
Go home.
Even though "over the river and through the woods" has, for many -- at least this
year -- been replaced with a walk through the scan and a pat down, it isstill
Thanksgiving, and for most of us that means going home. To tell the truth, the
invasiveness of the TSA is just a precursor of the closer examinations that will take
place during dining table discourse and in recliner-crowded conversations between
snores and during commercials. Going home is not always easy, whether it is a slow
drive over leaf-covered country roads . . . or a cramped ride in a cattle-car jet.
Neither route overrides the memories of past travels to and fro.
8/8/2019 The Courage It Takes to Go Home
http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/the-courage-it-takes-to-go-home 7/11
It takes more than a smile and slice of pumpkin pie to make some things all right.
Pack an extra helping of healing for the hurting.
I think of Thanksgiving as perhaps the strongest of the holidays because it is built on
yearning. Not wanting, like so much of Christmas, not haunting like Halloween, notflaunting like Valentines, or even vaunting like the 4th of July. No, Thanksgiving is
that holiday that yearns for all to be right and real, whole and good, restored and
reclaimed, life as we remember it, or as we want to. On this day, we timidly bring
ourself as the gift and we hesitantly take the gifts of others in the grand exchange.
There's little tinsel or flowers or fireworks to glamor up the who-we-ares. Yet, linger
still the masks of Halloween and the who-we-want-to-bes.
It's just so hard to go back home sometimes, wondering who will look older or act
wiser or walk slower or talk lower. We want to be noticed for all the right reasons and
left alone for all the wrong ones. What hard knocks have left their marks? Who hassoared, achieved, and risen? Anyone stumbled? Is there a recipe of revelation
waiting to be tested?
There's something constant about the inconsistency of Thanksgiving. Jello salad
colors change, but Jello it still remains. Turkeys roast or turkeys fry but you still save
room for favorite pie. It rains . . . it snows . . . it's awfully dry . . . but the leaves on the
way to the door still crunch. Grandpas die and babies cry yet there's always the
same big old bunch for the lunch.
Sometimes, it take a lot of courage to go home. All too often, home is not onlywhere the heart is; it's also where the hurt is, where the process began that led to
the brokenness. For some, it was a distant dad, an abusive uncle, an overbearing
mother, a bullying cousin, a generous broken relative all too anxious to share his
brokenness and pass it on to you. These stereotypes can, of course, be mixed and
matched.
For others, Thanksgiving is loneliness in the middle of the many, time alone on a
back-porch step listening to the laughter from the other side of the door while
pondering the pain in his own heart or the clouds that encircle her mind. The annual
gatherings amplify the solitude of protection that holds the secret that cannot beshared and passed around like a limitless green bean casserole. It is your single
secret helping. For the ones who struggle with a secret sexual brokenness, they
may be home, but feel not so, and each annual trip down the autumn road just
reinforces the wall. "I am one of them, but only because they do not know me."
Still, the potential for "home" always pulls us, the everlasting hope that this is where
we will be truly and forever loved, our imperfections accepted by our fellow
8/8/2019 The Courage It Takes to Go Home
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imperfect. The longing for possible love is always greater than the threat of potential
pain.
In college I came home with smiles and tales of accomplishment and likely bored the
tolerant listeners. In early marriage, I came home with a wife who added her smiles
and casseroles and won the hearts of the generations. As a young father, I camehome in a van loaded with five little ones, pinging back and forth from poutiness to
endearing rowdiness. As an older dad, I came home with grown-up sons and, year
after year, an added daughter-in-law and then their little ones. Ever-adapting to the
changes around her, my one daughter, eager for a few days away from school, put
up with the traveling and the family trauma, reveling in her singleness. Post-
revelation -- with my sexual brokenness poured out in public as my children fled the
scene -- I still went home, with a wife still smiling, casseroles still bearing, wounds
healing, our honesty concealing as we wondered for two years how to explain that
our children were all suddenly too busy to come along.
Two year ago, in an evening conversation in an empty hotel cafe, still stuffed from
the Thanksgiving feast, I shared with my mother the personal brokenness that had
emerged from its secret hiding place inside me and shattered my family, challenging
my marriage, ripping my reputation to shreds and separating me from all of my
children. Knowing enough to not let the silence linger, she brought out the main dish
we long for when we hit the road for home: love.
Now, everyone knows. Brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, cousins and
assorted in-laws. You. Transparency does that. And, because they know, I know I
can go home without looking longingly for the back-door steps. And because theyknow where I have been, they can rejoice at where I am and we can move on to
football and photos.
Often, those who are broken hide not just their sins, but themselves. Even when in a
stage of healing, progressing toward restoration, the struggle is buried deep within.
The divisions that result, the distances that grow, between us and the ones we love,
are sometimes so deep that going home -- in the real sense of heart and mind --
becomes a dwindling dream. Oh, we go there -- "Happy Thanksgiving!" -- but we
don't really go there. The menu is enticing, but we're afraid one important ingredient
might have been neglected. Love. It's what we're all really there for. It's okay to burnthe rolls, or forget to turn on the oven, or, heaven forbid, bring only the whole-berry
cranberry, but don't forget the love. Bring it home.
Interestingly, Jesus, when He healed people, did not tell them to "go start a new life
somewhere else." He said, in essence, "go home."
Jesus told the paralyzed man, whom He healed, to go home:
8/8/2019 The Courage It Takes to Go Home
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8/8/2019 The Courage It Takes to Go Home
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rounds of "we're here" hugs. I will find myself wondering how these people I know,
who now really know me, are anxious to see me. And on my way home, I will be
thankful for old memories of sleeping, exhausting children splayed throughout the
van, and for new memories of my original family that has learned to see each other
the way Jesus saw Zacchaeus in the tree. He welcomed him gladly. Can you
imagine how thankful Zacchaeus was to come down out of that tree?
Our years are filled with pain and gain, with joy and loss, with cheers and tears,
warm hugs and cold turning-aways, with victories, defeats, heights and depths, the
coming-ins and the going-outs. And yet, we give thanks. Always.
Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
-- 1Thessalonians 5:18
Be courageous. Don't ignore the pain of the past, but don't let the pain of the past
push away the promise of the day, which, by the way, the Lord has made. Rejoice.
Be glad. Laugh. Get fat. Go home.
We will have pain in this world. Just ask Jesus about that too. But what did Jesus do
after he endured all that pain?
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in Me. My
Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am
going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will
come back and take you to be with Me that you also may be where I am. You know
the way to the place where I am going.”
-- John 14:1-4
He went home.To His Father's house.
To fix your room for you.We will always be able to go home.
Happy Thanksgiving,
Thom
8/8/2019 The Courage It Takes to Go Home
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