Crying my eyes out, so very frightened, I took off walking. Not the best idea I'd ever had, really. But I was scared, and I wanted my home, and I had discoved that home is not a place, home is a person. Did you hear that. Home is not a place.
Home is a person.
Jesus is the way, because Jesus is our home. If we are with Jesus, we are home, no matter where we are - a jail cell, a missionary hut, an inner city slum, doesn't matter, if we are with him, we are already home. And without Jesus, no place is home, not even, especially not even a mansion. I thought I knew the way, but like the way to heaven, it turned out to be a longer walk than I had expected it to be. But I kept crying, and I kept walking.