By Pamela Keele Cress
A Commentary on the Sabbath School Lesson for March 11—17, 2006, "What Have They Seen in Your House?"
All my life I have been a homebody. Journeys from home are necessary adventures that broaden my worldview, stimulate my curiosity, and add to my story. But to me the best times in life are at home. A good book, a cup of tea, quiet reflection, my favorite sweats, conversations over the fence with neighbors, pruning roses, doing laundry—home is where my soul is refreshed and I find wholeness and healing.
Imagine my delight, as a confirmed homebody, to discover Frederick Buechner’s book, The Longing for Home (1996). The author eloquently captures the longing in my heart for wholeness in his multiple descriptions of home—the homes we remember, the ones in which we currently live, and heavenly homes of which we dream. Buechner further states that each home remembered, experienced, or envisioned is about finding healing comfort and wholeness (p. 3).
Homebody or not, healing comfort and wholeness are things that all humans wish to experience in their own domiciles and in those homes they visit. One would hope that healing comfort would characterize all homes that claim to love and know Christ. Sadly, too many believers have experiences to the contrary. This week’s lesson offers practical counsel and hopeful perspectives to strengthen our homes as they provide a healing witness to all who enter.
Consider Isaiah 38—the story of King Hezekiah’s home and healing. This king pleads with God for physical healing "because I walked before you in truth and with a whole heart and have done what is good in your sight" (v.3 NASB). Some see Hezekiah’s request as selfish. What right does he have to make this request? The point is that Hezekiah asked and God honored his request.
As a professor of social work, I often tell my students that they cannot help others until they have sought and found a measure of healing from the wounds in their own lives. It is the same with us. How can our homes ultimately be places of healing unless we address our need of restorative action and wholeness?
Several years ago, my husband, John, and I were having a difficult time in our marriage due to emotional scars from my childhood abuse. We weren’t certain our marriage would survive. During this time we attended a Renovare’ Seminar, with Richard Foster. At the end of the two-day event, Foster encouraged all who needed emotional healing to ask one of several pastors on his team to perform the rite of anointing and petitioning God for wholeness. I was startled by this invitation because I had been socialized to believe that anointing was reserved only for those who were stricken by grave physical illnesses.
We timidly approached a graying pastor who looked wise and safe. Telling this kind man that our marriage was in trouble, we asked if he would petition the Lord on our behalf. His prayer was bold, born of his close connection with the Lord and it reached into the deep places of my heart. When the oil touched my head my soul instantly became light. Both my husband and I view that experience as a turning point our marriage. We asked and God honored.
Isaiah 58 says that people’s "bonds of wickedness" are broken and "the oppressed freed" through God’s people feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, and clothing the naked (v. 6). This principle of healing, demonstrated by our Lord on numerous occasions, has a double benefit because these acts heal the server as well as those who are served.
John and I host a Bible study group in our home for a table full of university undergraduates. My husband, who loves to cook, envisioned food at every meeting. My idea was cookies and punch—quick and easy after a long day at work. John suggested that the students would come straight from class and needed hearty soups, fresh veggies, and good bread.
I hate to admit when John is right, but the principle of sharing with those who enter our home each week—that is,. the"full meal deal"—is helping us build relationships with these hungry young adults. They stand around in our kitchen nibbling while John and I prepare food. They talk about their own homes and memories they have of food prepared there. They talk about their problems with roommates, family, and significant others.
When we sit down to eat, there is more conversation about the week as it pertains to academic challenges and successes. When we finally get to the Bible study and prayer, our inhibiting bonds have indeed been broken and our yokes removed, at least for that hour. This principle remains as true for John and me as it does for our young friends.
Two weeks ago, I asked group members to share with me what they saw in our home. At first they seemed confused with the question—do you mean furniture, pictures, what? I simply replied that I wanted to know what they experienced when they came each week. Here is what they said:
Adventure
Humility
Sanctuary—a place to rest
Lots of love is here
Relationships with people—the conversations
Food—good food!
Great exchange of ideas; no sense of time pressures.
Feeling a part of something—like an extended home.
I was humbled by their responses, yet struck by the fact that each of us has the opportunity to build such environments simply by sharing what we have.
Got healing in your home? Envision it. Ask for it. Share it with others. And watch your home emerge more and more as a place of comfort, sanctuary, and healing for you, your family, and all who may cross your threshold. 
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