NOSTALGIA

Home for me this week is a couple of corn silos. No seriously – though I should perhaps say they have been converted from their former use into very comfortable holiday accommodation. Indeed they are, without doubt, the most luxurious cereal crop storage units I have ever spent a night in – and the only place of any type I’ve stayed in where I’ve not known how to work the mirrors.

And so they are serving their purpose very well – providing both a place of rest and recuperation whilst at the same time reminding me of what my own home could be like. Not that, despite me sometimes shopping in Waitrose, state of the art reflective wall hangings are something I consider to be essential – far from it – but it remains the case that even the place where I currently feel most at home is not all that I would wish it to be.

Which brings me to a word the derivation of which I only came to appreciate quite recently. I’ve known, of course, what ‘nostalgia’ means for a long time – ever since those never to be regained halcyon days of my youth – but what I hadn’t appreciated was that it is formed from two Greek words – nóstos, meaning “homecoming”, and álgos, meaning “pain” – and refers to the pain experienced when recognising the impossibility of regaining what once was but is no longer – the impossibility of returning to the home that is no longer there for you.

We all feel nostalgic from time to time. And though we may not realise it, I think we all are longing to return home. Not so much the place where we spent our childhood, but the place where we always dreamed we would one day find ourselves, but at which, because we no longer really believe it exists, we have now given up ever arriving at.

So here’s the thing – since our hunger points to the existence of food, and our feelings of loneliness point to the existence of community, might not our longing for heaven at least suggest the existence of just such a place. And if so, might it be a good idea to ask for directions or, better still, make use of a guide who could take us there.

I happen to think that would indeed be wise, not just because the road is a long and not infrequently difficult one, but because we’ll need someone to let us in when we get there.

But is this just wishful thinking on my part – or something I can justly feel sure of? Well, I believe it is the latter – as did King David, who in Psalm 23 makes three assertions all of which he is certain and, what’s more, gives reasons for his absolute confidence.

Firstly, having established that it is the LORD, the covenant-keeping God, who is leading him, he asserts that he will therefore lack nothing. Because that same shepherd guide will make him lie down in green pastures, will lead him beside still waters and ultimately restore his soul. Perhaps David then, like Christians, recognises that the world is not his home, and that he is on a journey to a heavenly abode during which time he will be provided with everything he needs. Just as we are – led by Jesus, the selfsame guide who described himself as the bread of life and the one who provides living water. And it is only those who recognise the transience of this life – who recognise that they are sojourners in a land through which they are, as it were, just a-passing through – who can happily do without fancy mirrors – and a whole load of other, only seemingly more necessary items, as they do so. Like David, they know what’s most necessary – the restoration of their souls by the Shepherd as he leads them along his path of righteousness – a route that is taken ultimately for the glory of God – by reflecting his holiness in their own increasing likeness to Christ and confirming his faithfulness by becoming what he had promised to make them.

Secondly, David says that, even though he walks through the valley of the shadow of death, he will fear no evil. And the reason for his confidence? Well, because the Lord who leads him is the Lord who remains with him on even the most fearful parts of the journey. As a boy I used to watch Dr Who – and especially in storylines that involved the Daleks, so frightened would I be that I did so from behind the sofa. But only when the Dr wasn’t on screen. Because when he was with his hapless companions, I knew they’d be okay – because he’d know what to do. And something somewhat similar can be said of Jesus – only more so – because with him, you’re safe – no matter what happens, because he knows what to do. So much so, in fact, that he has already done it – defeating death so that not even that once terrifying enemy can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

And thirdly, David says that he shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. That he will one day make it home and, having arrived, will remain there for all eternity. And the reason for his confidence is the goodness and mercy that has followed him all the days of his life. Which is significant because mercy is something that David will need, every bit as much as we will, if we’re to make it into heaven. Because it’s a goodness and mercy ultimately provided through Christ’s death on the cross, which paid the penalty for our sins. For as the old song has it:

‘there was no other good enough to pay the price of sin,
he only could unlock the gate of heaven and let us in.’

There is then a place called heaven – a place where we will be welcomed, not simply as temporary guests who are offered temporary refuge, but as members of a family who we will dwell safely with forever.

And though the journey there may be painful, the homecoming, marked very appropriately by a huge celebration, will be nothing of the sort.

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Related blogs:

To read ‘Luther and the war in Ukraine’, click here

To read ‘When our joy will be complete’, click here

To read ‘When Bad Things Happen’, click here

To read ‘Weeping with those who weep’, click here

To read ‘Still weeping with those who weep’, click here

To read ‘All’s Well that Ends Well’, click here

To read ‘on the FALLEN and the FELLED’, click here

To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here

To read ‘Why do bad things happen to good people? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Good Friday’, click here

To read ‘Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things? Rejoicing, though temporarily sorrowful, on Easter Day’, click here.

To read ‘T.S. Eliot, Jesus and the Paradox of the Christian Life’, click here

To read ‘Monsters’, click here

To read ‘On Sleeping like a Baby’, click here

To read “Hope comes from believing the promises of God”, click here

To read ‘Reflections on the death of Leonard Cohen’, click here