No Place Like Home

If you were asked to summarise the story of The Wizard of Oz, I wonder what you would say. How you would describe what it is about. It’s a story of friendship, courage, a quest, and a pair of sparkly red shoes—but at its heart, it’s a story about going home. After venturing across Oz with the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion, facing witches and wizards, Dorothy finally discovers what she’s been longing for all along. She clicks her heels together and repeats the phrase: “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home…”

And she’s right. Home is powerful. It probably looks slightly different for each of us—maybe it’s where you live, or who you live with. Maybe it’s the place you grew up, or where you feel most like yourself. Maybe it’s wrapped up in the smell of your favorite meal, or the sound of your loved ones laughing in the next room. But whatever and wherever it is, we know this: home is where we belong. It’s where we are known and loved. It’s where we can breathe, rest, and be fully ourselves.

For many of us, home is a gift. A sanctuary. A place of love, safety, and peace. And yet, for some, home may be more complicated—marked by loss, change, or even hurt. But the longing for home is universal. It’s a fundamental human desire: to dwell in peace, to be connected, to be rooted.

So let me ask: do you feel at home here at Holy Comforter? Do you feel at home—with God? That may seem like an odd question. But in today’s Gospel, Jesus says something quite extraordinary. He says: “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.”

Let that sink in: “We will come to them and make our home with them.” Jesus isn’t speaking metaphorically. He’s describing a reality. God—the Creator of all things, the Redeemer of the world, the Spirit who moves and breathes and dwells—isn’t just nearby, or watching from afar, God doesn’t just visit this place on Sunday mornings, or draw near to you when you do something particularly holy. No, God makes a home with us, within us.

And what is it about us that draws God to be at home with us? A perfect faith? A flawless life? If you’ve figured those out, let me know your secret after the service!

But thankfully it’s much simpler and more transformative: it’s love. Not love as a vague feeling, but as a way of life—steady, intentional, patient, generous. Love that listens. Love that obeys. Love that welcomes. When we love God in this way— in how we live and relate and forgive—we open the door for God to dwell fully with us. This is how to be the house of peace, the temple of the Spirit, the sacred space where heaven touches earth.

That’s what we’ll be celebrating at Pentecost, two weeks from now, where the Holy Spirit comes down in wind and flame to make a permanent home with the disciples, transforming them from timid followers into courageous witnesses who go out into the world to spread God’s love with everyone. And it is that same Spirit making a home here, whispering to each of us: “You are where I dwell.”

There’s no place like home.

For Dorothy, her quest to go home brought new friends along the way, to find what they were looking for too. It became a joint mission of very different people joined together, caring for each other, and seeking the best for each other. That’s sort of what our at home-ness with God should look like too, and it’s what we see in the reading from Acts.

After having a vision of someone in need of help, Paul goes to Philippi, and by the river outside the city gates meets Lydia, a woman who must have been looking for that sense of home that we’ve been talking about. She listens to Paul and embraces his message about Jesus, and her response is to immediately open both her heart and her home to others, and Lydia’s home becomes the first house church in Philippi—a community rooted in hospitality, generosity, and spiritual openness.

It’s a beautiful pattern: God opens Lydia’s heart. Lydia opens her home. And the Church is born. And that same pattern is meant to be true of us. When our hearts are opened by the Spirit, our lives begin to open—our homes, our time, our presence. We start to make space for others to encounter God through our welcome, our care, and our love. That’s why we think it’s so important, as a church, to make sure that people know we are welcoming. That’s why as a church we focus on outreach and invitation, so that we can share what we have, open our own hearts and home too.

And this is also why we care about you, as well as the person next to you. You are so loved, that God is at home with you. Last week we talked about change, and how that is scary because we sometimes feel like bringing others in might mean there is less room for us. But that isn’t how God works. You are beloved, and cherished, at home here and God at home with you. And what a gift that God is at home with the person next to you too, and the person who might visit next week. Because God’s home is big enough for all of us! In today’s world that so often feels chaotic, fragmented, or cold, this is our peace—not the peace of predictability or control, but the peace of presence. The peace that comes from knowing that we are at home in God, and God is at home in us, and nothing can change that.

So whatever home means for you, it is a deep and multifaceted gift as a church. Each of us is individually home for God—just as we are, in all our beauty and brokenness, clutter and confusion. And together, our church can become a true spiritual home. Not just a place where you show up, but a place where you are known. Where we are loved into healing. Where Christ is encountered in community—in worship, in the way we greet each other, in the way we serve together, in the way we listen and laugh and pray. Like Lydia, we may discover that when we open the door to each other, we’re opening the door to Christ.

What a marvellous gift - a home that welcomes more and more where we are each secure in knowing we have a place. A home where God is present. A home where people are loved. A home where peace dwells.

So like Dorothy, may we come to realize the deep truth she discovered—not just that there’s no place like home, but that home is something deeper than geography. It’s love. We know it as the presence of God. It’s the life we build in Christ. It’s the church we become when love opens the door. And truly—there’s no place like that.

Amen.

Acts 16:9-15; John 14:23-29