When the Lord brought back the captivity of Zion, we were like those who dream. Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing.” Psalm 126:1-2a
We were finally coming home. From August 1977 to August 1980, we lived in Germany while serving in the United States Air Force. Our time there was incredible. We saw windmills in Holland, the alps of Switzerland, the famous horse-fountain in Salzburg, and ate real pizza in Italy. Where we lived was much like living in the middle of the Shawnee Forest—large rolling hills and lush green forest, but with more snow. We loved it.
Some hard times happened while we were there too. Those were the days of no internet, no cell phone, and no overnight delivery from Amazon prime. Landline phone calls were rare and expensive and snail mail was all there was. I remember Judy receiving a letter that opened, “I guess you heard about your dad’s heart attack.” Turns out right after we left for Germany, he had a massive heart attack and almost died. Another night in our second year at about midnight or so, a knock came at our apartment door. It was an officer from my squadron. He said I needed to call the Red Cross immediately. My mother was dying. They connected me to my sister-in-law in Florida. Her words were simple and direct, “If you want to see your Momma alive you have to come now.” We made it home the day before she died.
So, our time in Germany was divine but difficult. The bottom line is at the end of three years we were more than ready to come home. As the time neared and preparations were underway for our leaving and returning, we started counting down. Everyone did. We would say, “25 days and a wake up. 13 days and a wake up. Three days and a wake up.” Finally, we woke up, got on a plane, and came home. There was no place like home. There is no place like home.
I can remember picking our VW van at the airport (we had shipped it home) and driving. It was marvelous. We could read the signs and we could understand the people. Instead of four dollars for a gallon of gas it was 69 cents. I stopped at a market and got a fried apple pie. I can still almost taste it. For lunch we stopped at McDonald’s. No big deal, right? Not at all unless you had spent the last three years explaining a cheeseburger and fries to someone who didn’t speak English. And, instead of a few dollars you paid almost twenty. As I ordered at the counter, speaking English, and being understood…I wept. I apologized to the young lady and explained we had been away for three years. And I explained…there is no place like home.
Then many years later, all too well, I remember those ten weeks when we were on Covid shutdown in our town. Finally, after too many weeks away, our church family had the opportunity to come home. The long-awaited Sunday arrived, and we gathered as a corporate body to sing, pray and preach. What did we learn? Well one thing is for sure—there is no place like home. My time in Germany taught me several things and one of them is you appreciate the simple things. A fried apple pie and a McDonald’s cheeseburger never tasted so good. My family never looked so good. Driving on the roads of America never felt so good. Reading the billboards never seemed so interesting. By the way, did they ever find out who shot J.R.? Smile. Somethings were different but it was still…home.
Like those things, going back to church was like coming home and I was almost giddy. When the Israelites realized they were coming home after 70 years in Babylon they were just a little more than giddy. Here’s what one of their songwriters wrote, “When the Lord brought back the captivity of Zion, we were like those who dream. Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing.” In those words, you can almost feel their excitement. Things were going to be different when they got there but that didn’t matter. They were going home.
This weekend, and every weekend after, when you walk into your place of worship remember how it felt that day to come home. Remember that and the small things that bug you probably won’t. When “Bob” irritates you at church, just pause and remember how good it was to be with others that first time back. When the sermon seems too long, and the music too loud and the room too warm…yup…just remember how good it was…how good it is, to be home. And, when something fearful pops up or something rubs you wrong…just remember the time He brought you home, when you rested in Him, when you realized He’s got this. And dream. And sing. Be like the ones who knew the Lord turned our captivity. Because He has. Bro. Dewayne
Grits with Grace 