Even when you leave home, you still take it with you
By Tim Coker, Pastor
Central Baptist Church, Darlington
“Joseph also went up from Galilee, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem because he was of the house and family of David.” (Luke 2:4) I know, I know. I am using a verse from the Christmas story … and it is May! It seems as if we just put the decorations back in the attic, and now we’re talking Christmas, again! If the wrong retail establishments read this column, they’re liable to start the Christmas push even earlier than usual! Actually, I want us to think about two words from Luke 2:4: house and family. When was the last time you really thought about house, family — home? I was fortunate enough to steal some time at my parents’ place some months ago (the house has been purchased by new owners, but they weren’t there – don’t tell anyone). While I was there – it was dark – I walked into the back yard and began to look around … and remember. I wondered how many times I had run across that grass, stretching a whiffle ball single into a double? How many times had I climbed that roof during hide and seek (against my parents’ wishes)? How many balls had I thrown, or caught, in my years in that house? How many roars had the imaginary crowd sounded? I walked around to the side of the house, noticing where the fireplace jutted out, and remembered the Christmas Eve my “soon to be brother-in-law” Jimmy helped me throw a pack of “firecrackers” in the fireplace. What a moment! How many celebrations were held there? How many times of punishment (did I mention the time I threw firecrackers in the fireplace)? How many meals had I eaten there? The fat grams … I wondered about the number of fat grams. … Let’s forget that one! Enough said, right? When I think about it (and hopefully when you stop and think about it), I owe a great deal of who I am to my time spent in that little house. And I owe even more to my parents – who spent sooo much energy and money on me through the years. Mostly, I thank them for their time. I can still see my Daddy literally holding the door closed during a hurricane when I was a child (this actually occurred in Corpus Christi, Texas). I still see my mother, sitting in the bleachers watching another Little League game. Our family has laughed together during a game of Monopoly. We have cried during the same game (well, maybe I cried). Years have passed. I’m older now. Both of my parents are gone, and yet I still say it: There is something about home. Now that I am a father, and have been blessed with a wonderful wife and children, I greatly desire for our house to be “Home.” When it is “right,” it affects everything. When it is “wrong,” everything suffers. So let me encourage you as you head into May and June … do not become so focused on the summer break that you miss summer at “home.” Happy Mother’s Day and Father’s Day!
