To the lost and lonely. The outcasts. Downtrodden. And forgotten. This one’s for you. But don’t worry. It’s for me, too.

We all long for a place to belong. A place to call home. And it’s more than a building with a front door. We desire something more.

Does God have a home? Yes. But it may surprise you to know His address. 

In the Old Testament, God dwelt in a temple. Behind a curtain. In the Most Holy Place. Where only the highest priest could go. And he had a lamb to show.

Once a year. For the forgiveness of sins. But it never made amends. 
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So God put Himself in our shoes. Through the person of Jesus Christ. To be the perfect sacrifice.
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Charles Swindoll says, “I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it.” While I’m no statistician, I’m pretty sure he’s right. At least close.

Nearly a year ago, I graduated high school. As I walked across the stage, Proverbs 16:9 was read. “We can make our plans, but the LORD determines our steps” (NLT). And let me tell you, I’m finding this verse to be true.

I had plans. Godly plans. I had just received a big scholarship to a Christian university. I had just given a graduation speech that escalated quickly in the community. I was being recognized on Walk-FM as a “World Changer.” I had a girlfriend who I genuinely felt God had given me. For the most part, life was good.

Thursday was a special day for my family. We welcomed a new member. Not through birth. But through adoption. My amazing aunt and uncle adopted a beautiful nine-year-old girl.

Her name is Chloe. And I’m so happy to be her big cousin. But as I ponder this special day, I can’t help but share a message with you. Because Chloe reminds me of my own adoption.

Chloe left the courthouse with a new name. A new birth certificate. A new identity. Why? Because someone willingly chose her. Not because she did anything spectacular.

And that’s my story.

As an education major, I’m required to observe elementary classrooms. I do it on Tuesdays. The majority of the class consists of boys with Autism. I love it.

Last Tuesday, I stayed for recess. As I sat in the “teacher chair,” I noticed the boys playing iPads together. A number of them sat on a large ABC rug. I decided to sit on the rug with them. Why not? I like Minecraft, too.

A couple of minutes later, one of the teachers said, “We have another student!” It was encouraging to hear.

I enjoyed it. And the boys did, too. We watched Hulu and played games. One of the boys used me as a backrest. Oh well. I reckon that’s what big boys are for. I decided to become one of them for about thirty minutes. Lowering myself to their level, I put myself in their shoes.

That’s what God did.

It’s the word you hear as you stand in a long line. It’s the word you push away while you wait in traffic. What am I talking about? Patience.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience …” (Gal. 5:22 ESV). Yep. There’s the word we’re trying to avoid. But we can’t. Patience is a manifestation of the Spirit’s work in our lives. It’s not an option for the believer. But how? That’s the million-dollar question.

Let’s talk about road rage.