I’m not going to talk about actual food for once. Sorry guys.
Instead, I’m going to leave you with some food for the mind. This post is quite a bit deeper than I usually go so bear with me.
A week ago, John Gilpin, a former coach for my brother’s football team and a strong Christian, died unexpectedly of a heart attack. He left behind his biological family, four children and a wife and countless others, however, he also left behind a grieving football family.
I don’t remember where I first saw it and I’ve seen it a few times since. But one of the most striking statements I saw was a simple one that described John Gilpin’s death as a “homecoming.”
That last word hit me rather hard.
We use homecoming in a lot of ways in this world.
Homecoming dances are a rite of passage in high school, second only to prom.
“Homecoming” is the name of a B-grade horror movie.
Just this past week, the media talked over and over again about Peyton Manning’s homecoming in Indianapolis.
How different those are from John Gilpin’s homecoming.
I didn’t know him personally. I don’t recall ever meeting him or shaking his hand. All I knew about John Gilpin was what I heard from my brother and from my parents.
Yet there I was, crying over a simple word used to describe a man’s death.
His type of homecoming is different. It is an eternal homecoming. An eternal dance and celebration in a place where he will never feel pain or hurt in any way ever again, with someone he has put his faith in for a lifetime.
And I for one think that’s the most beautiful type of homecoming any of us could possibly look forward to.