This morning we are waiting for a call from our realtor. We are waiting to hear if our housing contract has been accepted by the seller. It feels so austere and removed—we aren’t allowed to speak to sit down with him, shake his hand, or look him in the eye. Everything is mediated. So I don’t know anything about “the seller.” What does he think of our offer? What kind of a person was he, living in this house with his family for 20 years prior to selling it? I don’t know. But it’s agonizing to wait for the phone call.
When you are looking to buy a house, you start talking about what you desire in a home. This is all good and necessary—this kind of fence in the back yard; this kind of cabinets in the kitchen; this kind of flooring; and this size master bedroom; within this school district, etc… You categorize these into
- I can’t live without this.
- This would be a nice bonus.
- There’s no way on earth would could afford that but wouldn’t it be cool if…
But at some point in the discussion you stop and think to yourself— “I wonder how the vegetable man in
So this morning, waiting on the realtor, as I was reading the end of Luke 23, I noticed something. Joseph (of Arimathea; the one who asked Pilate for Jesus’ body) was waiting for something too.
He was waiting for the
And I began to wonder what other people in the New Testament were waiting for. Bigger pots? A nicer hut? Some land on the good side of
-Simeon was “waiting for the consolation of
-Anna spoke about the child to those who were “waiting for the redemption of
-Jesus tells a parable about being ready like those “waiting for their master to return from a wedding banquet, so that when he comes and knocks they can immediately open the door for him.”
-Jude reminds us “Keep yourselves in God's love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life.”
So while I’m waiting for a call from the realtor, I wonder,
Am I waiting for the hope of my new house?
Or am I waiting for the hope of my new Home?
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