Home Is Where the Heart Is

Friday, July 31, 2026
Series: Some Places Become Holy Simply Because We Lived There

As a child, home was a simple four-room house on a dirt road in rural Greene County, Mississippi.

When people first heard about Jesus, they asked, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” (John 1:46). I have smiled over the years because whenever I tell people where I grew up, someone inevitably asks a joking question like, “Did you all wear shoes down there?” While it is meant in fun, it reminds me that rural places are often misunderstood.

Yet the Magnolia State is one of my homes. It is holy ground.

It was there that I first encountered God—not in grand cathedrals or famous cities, but through ordinary people. A faithful Sunday school teacher. My father, who served as our pastor. Dedicated schoolteachers who believed in me. My best friend Danny. My faithful dog, Button. My dear mother, my brothers, my sister, and the neighbors who quietly shaped my life.

It was far from a perfect place. Racism was a painful reality. Jobs were hard to find. Poverty touched many families, and life expectancy lagged behind much of the nation.

But there was something else.

Neighbors stopped by just to visit. We knew one another by name. We shared one another’s joys and burdens. And after a long day working on the farm, nothing tasted better than fried chicken, mustard potato salad, fried catfish, hush puppies, and a mess of greens around the family table.

As a young man, I couldn’t wait to leave. I dreamed of seeing places like New York, Washington, D.C., and St. Louis. I wanted to experience the wider world.

And I did.

What surprised me most was that those places became holy too.

Over the years I have lived in several communities. Each one has left its mark on me. Each one introduced me to people who reflected God’s grace in unexpected ways. Each one became another chapter in the story God was writing.

I’ve learned something that took me many years to understand.

Home is where the heart is.

Home is not simply a place on a map. It is not measured by population, wealth, or prestige. Home is where we learn to love, where memories are made, where people become family, and where we discover that God has been walking beside us all along.

Home is, in many ways, a choice.

Wherever we go, we walk upon God’s creation. Wherever we live, we have the opportunity to encounter the God who creates, redeems, and sustains all things.

Some places become holy simply because we lived there—and because, looking back, we discover that God was there before we arrived.