Oronogo

I'm sitting in Adrian, Michigan. It's Friday night and we are all about to tear down in a couple of hours. It's going to be about 2:30 am before we are done. We hit the road for a 12 hour ride home in the morning. Home is such a sweet word right now. I'm looking forward to sitting on my front porch and watching my kids play. I'm looking forward to taking a long walk with my wife. I'm looking forward to going on a walk and holding her hand. I'm looking forward to home.

It got me thinking about a journal entry that I made after one of my hardest years of ministry back in 1999. That was the worst year ever. Even though I had 2 back surgeries in 2004...I'd still say that 1999 was even worse. I think it would have to come in second to 2005 whenever my wife was diagnosed with cancer...that trumps all the years combined.
I love where I am in life right now...but I still want to go home. I don't mean Oronogo.

Journal Entry Feb, 22, 1999
Jayson French

I want to go home. No, I really mean it; I want to go home. I can remember as a kid, I would run up the driveway after school, and it felt so good to hit that front door and throw my books down. No more burden, no more baggage. I could just be home. I remember when I got stranded once in a St. Louis train station. I had no money, and no way home. I didn’t have any idea on how I was going to get back. I was broke, and scared, until I saw his face. It was my mentor from church. He just happened to be heading back to Joplin and decided to stop by the shopping area with his family. My heart nearly broke out in tears when I saw him and he offered me a ride. I just wanted to get home.

I remember one Halloween night when I was trick or treating. All alone, I had told my friends’ goodnight, and began the last three lonely blocks alone. I remember when the big white truck pulled up next to me and tried to convince me to get in. The fear struck my heart. I could see my house. The lights were on. My mom was waiting for me to walk in the door. I was afraid. I just wanted to be home.

I remember last summer. I had spent about six weeks away from home. Many of the trips I had to take without my wife and my son. I was speaking in Idaho, and I had planned on taking some vacation days after my speaking vacation. I remember getting off of the plane in Boise, and seeing that there was no one to meet me. I wanted to go home. I cancelled my vacation days, and willingly gave up the money for an earlier flight. All the way back, all I could think about is that I couldn’t wait to get home.

I remember being overseas, living in California with no family, I know what it is like to miss home. To be truthful, I want to go home.

It isn’t a matter of going back to my house, in fact, I’ve never even seen the place that I am longing for, but I know it is there. The Israelites longed for the Promised Land, and in a matter of speaking, so do I. I long for a place where I won’t see my friends get divorces. I long for a place where children don’t kill. I long for a home where the tears are dry and the water is so pure that no one has to fear. I long for Heaven. I want to go home.

I’m tired of the games, and the gimmicks. Second guessers and the skeptics no longer amuse me. I want to go home. I long for a place where the only leader is Jesus, and the only agenda is worship. I long for a place where gold isn’t an indicator of wealth, and my home will never be for sale. I long for a house, a house with many rooms, a place where I’ll never have to worry about living alone.

I long for a city, a city whose streets are never marked by orange construction barrels, and who will never charge me for utilities. I long for a city whose builder and maker is God. I long for clear purpose. I look for the day when I never have to worry if I am in the center of God’s plan, I just want to live in his house, I want to go home. I want to go to a home where my child will never die. I want to go to a home where my body will never grow old. I want to go to a home where I never have to worry about food on the table, because nobody ever gets hungry. I want to go home.

I want to live with my Jesus. I want to see my Lord love on the children who never had enough to eat. I want to see the smiles on their face when the no longer feel the sting of hunger. I want to go home.

I want to see Jesus. I want to fall down at his feet and say that I am sorry for all of the times when my attitude got in the way of where his Spirit was trying to lead. I want to tell him that I am sorry for all of the times that I confessed with my mouth and doubted by my actions. I want to see him. I want to see his eyes and feel the forgiveness that he has already granted. I want to go home and say that I am sorry.

I want to hear my Jesus. I want to hear that he knows my name. I want to know that I am one of the ones who called him Lord, Lord and actually mean it. I want to hear him say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant, enter into your rest.” I want to go home.

I want to listen to David talk about Goliath, and I want to tell Daniel how amazed I was that he didn’t cry. I want to smell Shadraq, Meshac and Abendigo to see if they smell like smoke. I want to go home. I want to see the brothers and sisters that I have never met. I want to ask Paul how long he had to tread water after the shipwreck. I want to ask Peter if he would preach the Pentecost sermon all over again so I could hear it. I want Noah to just explain how on earth God pulled it off. I want to ask them all questions. I want to meet Job. I want to go home.

I want to see Aaron and Cory. I want to see Janice’s grandfather. I want to see Jesus. I want to go home.

I have felt this way before. It is the feeling when you are on the plane, and you have no idea as to how far out you really are. It’s that feeling of wonder. I wonder if my wife is getting ready to pick me up. Is Justin awake? Will he be happy to see me? I love the feeling when the nose of the plane begins to dip, and you know that the final descent is near, you are almost home. You wait for the plane to taxi, and then you wait in the back of the plane for the aisles to clear. I want with all of my heart to just be home. You start walking up the Jetway, your heart beats, and then at that moment when your eyes meet the ones that you love, you don’t know whether to cry or to laugh. I think that heaven will be a little like that.

I have that feeling of wonder about heaven. Sometimes this trip seems so long. It’s like we will never get there, so I distract myself, but the simple truth is I want to go home. I look forward to the trumpet sounding, and to find out that were really were more than conquerors. I long for the dead in Christ to catapult into the air. Just like Elisha, I want to hear the dead bones start to rattle! I want to walk into Heaven and feel my heart melt and to lose all sense of dignity and demeanor. I want to fall on my face in reverent fear and amazing love. I hope that the only thing that captivates my attention is the shear wonder and beauty of God.

I pray I don’t say anything stupid. I am so good at that. I hope that I just remember to keep my mouth shut. I hope that when it is time to worship, that I spent enough time in Psalms and Revelation that I know all of the words. I want to sit by the river of life. I want to marvel at the craftsmanship of God.

I cry out the words of Revelation, “Come quickly Lord Jesus”. It isn’t an obsession with death; on the contrary, it is a celebration of life, eternal life. This is the grand prize. This is the crown. This is the goal. This is my passion, my purpose and my sole priority in life. This is what I am all about, and to this end I will labor. It isn’t about power, it is about popularity, and it isn’t about position. It is about Jesus. It is about all of the frustrations paying off in the end. It is about knowing that I didn’t do it the easy way, but I did it the right way. It is about realizing that I may have never made all of the money I could have made, and I still received more than I ever deserved. To this end I will labor. I will not give up. I will not give up.

I will not give up. I have come too far, and loved too much. I have worked to hard and I am saying I will not give up. I may be frustrated, but he will not allow me to fall. I am hard pressed on every side, but I am not crushed. I am perplexed, but I am not in despair. I am struck down, but I am not destroyed. I am persecuted, but I am not abandoned. I carry around the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may be revealed. BY GOD, I am going home. I will be more than a conqueror, I will fight the good fight, and I will keep the faith, because I know that for me a crown of righteousness has already been custom fitted to my measly head.

I refuse to exit quietly. I will tell myself everyday that this is the day that the Lord has made, and I will rejoice and be glad. I will not go about with a spirit of timidity. I know my destiny, and it is sure. I will not fight like a man beating the air. I will not run aimlessly. There is too much to be done. Yes, I want to go home, but there is a lot of work that still needs to be done. I will work. I will bust my tail until the plane pulls up to the terminal.

I will not allow my spirit to sleep, nor will it slumber. I have wasted too much time already. I want to go home, and I will.