By Jim Nichols

I can remember the specific place on the street where the encounter occurred. During my third semester of college, hundreds of miles from where I grew up, I was with a classmate in the evening. He said, “Do you want to go get a Coke?” I replied, “I would like to, but I need to go home and study for a test I have tomorrow.”

At that moment, I realized that I had just identified room #152 of Edwards Dormitory as my “home.” I envisioned my mother, seven hundred miles away, having a sharp pain in her heart for some reason. It was the beginning of a consideration of my definition of what was “home.” Have you ever done that? 

There are some words in English (or any language) that are more powerful than others. They bring both depth and breadth and, if we are asked what that word means to us, it would draw us into a lengthy explanation. That effort would force us to go into our memory, and we would find it brimming with specifics; some would be positive, but not all. Certainly, the word “home” would be in this complicated category.

In the Wizard of Oz, a pivotal concluding scene has Dorothy repeating “. . . there’s no place like home.” James Stewart in It’s a Wonderful Life spends the whole movie wrestling with the loss of his “home” and trying to redefine what “home” means. When I was in elementary school we belted out traditional songs that seemed to be written specifically for us as Kansas children: “Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam.” I loved cowboys so I loved that song.

When I ask students, “Where is home for you?” I get different responses than if I ask, “Where are you from?” Many of us would answer those questions differently, also.

It is reasonable to understand that “home” can be a physical dwelling place or an emotional dwelling place and that those two overlap. Since we often change our physical position, that means that we must keep redefining where home is in that category. That can be disturbing, especially for younger people. With some life experiences, we learn that this disruption of that physical view of home often changes.

Our emotional home is broader in its explanation. Now we understand that home is a place of perceived protection and rest. It is a place of learning (good and bad). The meaning of human relationships is instilled as we develop our first and subsequent important ones.

When students speak about going home, they usually identify who else will be there with them, specifically family members. Often, they will speak of the pets that live there. I have a memory of one trip home from college where I asked my parents where our cat (Amanda) was. My dad looked shocked at the question and turned to my mom and said, “You haven’t told him yet, have you?” Aged Amanda had been euthanized while I was away from home; I still remember that parental encounter clearly.

We have great sadness that not everyone has a “home memory” that is positive. Life has taught us that we do not know what occurs behind the walls. When Forrest Gump and Jenny visit the abandoned house where she lived, she throws rock after rock at the place where she was abused for years as a child.

In the Bible, the concept of home appears frequently with a clear overlap between a physical and spiritual meaning. Often it portrays home as a refuge.

The concept of time is blurred as some scriptures speak of the Lord watching our coming out and our going into “home” (now), while other passages detail that God is our “dwelling place” in all generations (future). There is a high number of references to God supplying a home for the Israelites with a land of their own. This latter point is not just old news, but troubling current news.

“Home” is a tender word for me and perhaps you. It is not an accident that one can speak of being “homesick” and find near universal understanding. It makes sense that a concept so clearly understood by others must come from God.

Jim Nichols is a retired Abilene Christian University biology professor and current hospital chaplain