Exile
We must leave
And where we will go
Is not yet clear.
Mold,
My wife’s plague,
Drives us to search
For safety.
An apartment,
As temporary as Abraham’s tent
In Canaan’s fair land,
Is our destination.
We need a new build
So that mold won’t have gathered
From old water damage
From plants
From the Ohio River valley.
We could go out like the grumbling Israelites
Struck down on their way to their inheritance
Or like Abraham who looked forward to a home
“With foundations
Whose architect and builder is God.”
Why us Lord?
Why now?
Did you lead us here to strike us down in Louisville?
But God, who is rich in mercy,
Because of the great love
With which he has love us
In Christ,
Has made us alive with Christ.
We don’t grumble for an earthly home.
There remains a home, a rest,
For us to enter.
Jesus entered that rest first
And he will bring us safely home.
But for now, we are exiles,
Strangers in a strange land,
Searching for a place to lay our heads.
All while saying, “Christ, come quickly!”