Yesterday was my opportunity to introduce myself to the faculty and staff of Texas Lutheran University. As the Campus Pastor, it was my responsibility and privilege to offer an opening devotion at the annual State of the University gathering at which the President and other cabinet members speak about the health and growth and stability of the institution. To set the tone for this gathering, I invited everyone to join me in singing “Home on the Range.”
Right. That’s what they were thinking, too – whatever it is you’re thinking. Some joined in with gusto, laughing at the juxtaposition of “serious devotion to start our year” and “cheesy, slightly sentimental song of our nation’s past.” Others sang, but weren’t so sure what the point was, and how this might help them get in the right frame of mind to empower young adults to “learn boldly & live to inspire.” And still others sat there not participating, thinking “we chose this woman to be pastor, why?”
It got better from there. I talked a bit about how the song refers to getting out to the places we call home, where we can find rest and comfort. And so we had an audience-participation segment where they yelled out the places they had traveled this summer to find that sense of home. People were eager to share that they had spent time in Paris, or Cheboygan (which Spell-check doesn’t know is an actual place in Michigan,) or the beach, or, because this is Texas, the barn.
But then we transitioned to thinking of our internal life as a place of refuge, that to find home we need only turn to the silence of our hearts where our Creator resides and is waiting to welcome us. The time we spent in silence together was golden. The entire staff and faculty of TLU sat in the auditorium inhaling the life-giving Spirit and exhaling the stress and anxiety of beginning a new term. For just a few moments, we were united in the silence, we were unified in our seeking, we were together at home.
I’m so grateful for that moment. Because in the midst of my moving and unpacking and registering and licensing and signing up in this new place, I was feeling like I had no “home.” Everything still feels new. Everywhere I go, I’m getting used to a new procedure or a new arrangement. There’s no place where it’s comfortable, where I can relax, where it feels like “home.” Even my house that’s filled with all of my same stuff, doesn’t yet feel like home. Because it takes a while. It’s just a fact – it takes a while for a new house to feel like home.
And so I needed that silence yesterday. I needed the reminder of my own devotion presentation, that while I am in this transition, while I am waiting for my space to feel like a refuge, I can find home within. The Creator of all things is also the Creator of me, and I am awed by the mystery that the Creator makes a home within me. When I take a moment to listen to my breath, there I discover the Spirit of the Holy. When I find time to pause before giving a presentation and open my heart for guidance, there I discover the Voice of the Holy. When I begin my day in my prayer corner, even though it’s in a new place and my candle doesn’t fit where it used to, still there I discover the Comforting Presence of the Holy.
Home is a gift given in the silence. No matter where we are. No matter how we feel. No matter who is with us or who has left us. Home is here, in the ever-expanding love of the Creator planted in each of us.