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From the time I moved out of my parent's house in Madeira, Ohio (home of the Mustangs!!), I moved every year until I got married and my wife and I lived in Mercer, Pennsylvania (home of the Mustangs!!) for almost 3 years. I know reside in Mandarin (home of the Mustangs!! ...seriously people) which is a suburb of Jacksonville, Florida (much better weather).

When you move from place to place so much (literally every year for 9 straight years into a new apartment/townhouse/house/etc.) you really start to think about the question, "what makes a home a home?" Is it the furniture? Your own room? The people you live with? I have been asking myself this question since 1996 when i move in with Scott, Ben, and Dave. I liked that apartment, but it never felt like home. I went to my parent's every week (sometimes more than once a week) and that felt like home. Then, when i moved into an actual house with Kevin, Devon, Chris, and Scott, I thought, "now this will feel like home." And it did more than the apartment, but it still wasn't home. It was just the place i slept (and sometimes didn't sleep because Kevin had to have the loudest fan in the world on at night). Next came a new crop of roomies and a new place. Ryan moved in. A friend from childhood. Surely the history between us will make me feel more at home. And it did a little bit. But not enough.

Greg, Kevin, Ryan, and I lived together (with others in and out) for the next few years in a number of different places (remember punching holes in the wall out of frustration with foosball or Risk?), and I felt more and more at home. I started going to my parent's less even though I only lived 20 minutes away. Even with the moves, it felt more like I lived there as opposed to only sleeping there. I couldn't put my finger on why though for a long time.

It wasn't until PA (that's what people from Pennsylvania call Pennsylvania) that i really felt at home. I was recently married and we bought a house. It was ours (well, it was the bank's but it would be ours in 30 years)! But not until we moved to Florida did I figure out why. Since being in Florida, we have bounced around from an apartment (very small with drug deals going on in the parking lot) to a nice studio cottage (thank God for the Burkes!) and it hasn't felt quite like home. But not because we don't own it, it's because we're the only one's in it. I have discovered that for me to feel at home, I have to have other people coming over. I have to be inviting others to it. Coming in, eating our food, playing with the dog, sitting in my chair (how dare they!!), and even sleeping there when they need to. When I invite people to where I live, to be with me and my wife, I feel at home. I feel this way with my faith. I am not truly owning my faith unless I am inviting others to be a part of my journey with Christ. This may not seem like a great analogy to you, but it was significant to me when I first realized the correlation. I need to be inviting people into my life with Christ or else I'm just sleeping there.