I shoved my key into the lock in the front door and turned it. It wouldn’t open. I tried again. It still wouldn’t open. I wiggled and jiggled the key, but it didn’t work. The door refused to open. As I stood in front of it, I realized that for the first time in 45 years, I had nowhere else to go. That was not a pleasant experience. At all.

Let me back up a little here. This happened right after we had bought my dad’s place. Prior to that, Tim and I had bought my parents’ house and remodeled it. So, I had lived in that house for all of my life.

When my dad decided to move, he asked if we wanted to buy his house. We jumped at it. You see, I really loved my dad’s house. I had since I was a girl when my cousin Lynda still lived there. As for our old house, we rented it because our daughter Sara wanted it, but she had just started college.

I was so excited when my dad gave us the keys to the house. But I wasn’t so excited as I stood on the stoop that Sunday afternoon. My husband Tim was at work, so I couldn’t call him. I called my dad next. Maybe there was a trick to opening the door that I didn’t know yet. Apparently, there wasn’t one and he couldn’t understand why I couldn’t get into the house. I replied there was only one way to place a key into a key hole. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful or a smarty pants. I was frustrated.

He was busy and couldn’t get there for a while. That’s when I had the realization. I didn’t know the neighbors yet and somebody was living in my old house. There was one option for me. I had eaten lunch at my mom’s house, so I got back in my car and drove fifteen minutes back to her house.

Even though I had been in my mother’s house countless times, I was extremely uncomfortable. My mom and Sara were happy to have me, but I felt like a boat a drift on the sea with no port to sail into.

Finally, Dad called. Immediately I drove home. I handed him the key so he could show me how to get the door open. He stuck in the key and turned it.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Nothing.

I wondered if I would be going back to my mom’s house until Tim returned home. Daddy jiggled and wiggled the key as I had done. Finally, the stubborn door opened.

It was a such a relief to finally be able to enter my home. Needless to say, Tim and I went shopping after that incident. We didn’t just get a new lock. We bought a new door to go with it. And I made sure the new door easily opened with my key. That being said, my real home is somewhere else.

“For here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come.” Hebrews 13:14 (KJV)

If you’re a believer, you are living in a place that can never be your real home. We are just travelers, sojourners, on this side. We have a much, much better place waiting on us.

There’s only one key to it and it doesn’t hang on a peg or key ring. It hung on a cross and is accessible to everybody.