In the transition from our house in Sedgefield to our apartment in Uptown, we became a bit nomadic. Two weeks of chaos, unsettling displacement, and not having our stuff (spread across six different locations) made us feel uneasy, tense, and uncertain. Is it possible it felt a bit like being homeless?
Homelessness is the word normally used to describe someone who doesn’t have a place to go at night for shelter, a place to go during the day for food, and so they end up living on the streets or in shelters. It’s brokenness. It’s lonely. It’s a place in the world where shalom must be restored, and people across the centuries and all over the world who love Jesus have taken it upon themselves to provide shelter, food, and community to those who are homeless.
Of course, we were not homeless; but we were displaced. And it made us consider that having a home we call ours is not a right or something we’re entitled to have; rather, it is a privilege that brings considerable security, peace, and comfort.
During our two-week transition, we made a trip to Atlanta to visit some friends. I convinced them to go to Passion City Church, which was planted by Passion founder Louie Giglio. I may write another blog post about our good experience with Kristian Stanfill and Christy Knockles leading worship and Giglio preaching, but there was a part of the message that stuck with me. While talking about defeating the goliaths of comfort and complacency (watch here), Giglio said, “If the devil can keep you good and comfortable, he can cause you to waste your short life.”
Sometimes our houses, cars, jobs, relationships, and possessions become the way the devil keeps us good and comfortable. I’m just as susceptible to the devil’s schemes as anyone else. In fact, I could argue that I’m more susceptible than most to feeling, and needing to feel, good and comfortable.
Our transition gave us the opportunity to feel uncomfortable, and to be honest, there are some things about apartment living that just make you feel less comfortable in general than owning a house (however, no yard work, maintenance, or ominous feeling of potential doom any day lurks over my head anymore).
I’m happy to receive those discomforts even though I sometimes complain about them because they are a reminder to me that the good and comfortable aren’t the ones slaying giants.