This is not my home.

I keep thinking this is my home. These are my children. This is my stuff. This is my life. But, it's just not.

This is not my home. If I remembered that this is not my home, would I take care of it differently? Would I put less stuff in it? Would I use it for a different purpose...a purpose that would always remind me that it doesn't belong to me?

These are not my children. Would I treat them differently? Would I lavish the love of God on them more if I remembered that He is lavishing that on me? Would I speak to them more gently? Would I pay attention to them more closely? I think I would. God has so graciously given us these sweet blessings to raise up under His love.

This is not my stuff. Would I get rid of some of it? Would I cherish less of it? Would I give more of it? I think I would. If I remembered that this isn't what I live for, I think I would remember who I do live for and treat the things in my possession as His.

This is not my life. I didn't create this for myself. I didn't cause these things to happen so that I could live comfortably.

In fact, I didn't have anything to do with it. So seeking comfort in this life, this stuff, these children, this house all ends with myself.

I don't know why I constantly seek myself. But it has to end. I have to put this life into perspective. Once I recognize that this place should be like a foreign land to me, I begin to see outside of myself. I can see those around me whose only need is the love of the Father. Their true need is to find Christ. In the words of Edward T Welch, I need to love them more and need them less.