“Didn’t you know I had to be in My Father’s House?” Jesus in Luke 2

“In My Father’s House are many rooms, I go to prepare a place for you.” Jesus in John 14

“I arise today through the whiteness of snow, the splendor of fire.” St. Patrick’s Breastplate

As I write this I’m sitting by a wood fire.  Peaceful. Warm. Calming. Comforting. But not always.

On the last day of 2021 fires whipped through an area near Boulder, burning about 1,000 homes.  My oldest daughter and her family were evacuated.  There was a very difficult day waiting to hear whether their house had escaped being burned also.   It had.  Many were not so fortunate. 

It’s not hard to imagine the devastating effects of losing house, goods, keepsakes, mementos and so much more that is meaningful and provides stability and safety and security . . . and memories.  And it is a powerful reminder . . .

. . . . Of how quickly life can change.  In a matter of hours so many people, who had looked forward to saying goodbye to a difficult year and welcoming a new one with hope and promise were dealt such a devastating blow.  We don’t know what tomorrow holds do we?  Thus we live for today, in this moment, relishing what we have in the eternal NOW.

. . . . Of how fire can be so delightful on the one hand, and so destructive on the other.  How it can warm one physically, emotionally, psychology and spiritually, providing such calming comfort; yet in the very next moment can be fanned into a flame creating a conflagration that causes suffering and heartache and devastation.  One of my most somatically permanent memories is of my father getting up early on winter mornings to go into the basement and fix the fire that would heat the house.  After his death I went into the basement, and upon seeing the furnace and smelling the smoke I wept, overcome with memories of him.  Other in my community are weeping because fire claimed their homes and their lives as they knew them.

. . . . Of how our houses here are temporary, subject to time or temporal circumstances.  Sooner or later, in one way or another, we will leave our houses.  And that is why the picture of Jesus in His Father’s House, and the promise He makes of an eternal house are so comforting.  That is why He calls us to store up treasures in heaven, where moth and rust (and fire) cannot destroy.  And that is why He promises to go and prepare a permanent place for us in heaven.

The imagery of a house represents an inheritance.  It is an eternal inheritance that we have been promised. Like the father in the story of the Prodigal, so too we have been promised and given everything.  The words of the father to the older son are the Father’s words to us:  “Son, all that I have belongs to you”.  We have everything, and yet we want and need.  What, dear friend, do you want for today?  What do you need today?  Ask your Father.  He loves you and promises to provide!

A fire in a house can be so warming and comforting, especially in contrast to the white, cold snow.  And the snow can be so soothing and serene, especially in contrast to the flames of fire.  In trust, in hope, in expectation we bind both to ourselves today.