Chrysostom
Beloved
You seek a little home, a cabin where the air is cooler and life more affordable. This is a small thing in the eyes of the world, yet it consumes your prayers and hopes. Consider, then, the homes of the saints: Abraham, a sojourner, dwelling in tents, purchasing not land but a burial place for money, confessing himself a stranger on the earth. They who are truly rich toward God do not fix their hearts on tenements of clay. You labor to secure a shelter that soon you must leave; will you not labor more earnestly for that house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens? The purchase of heaven is not with money, but with a purpose of mind that despises earthly anxiety. She who cast in two mites gained all, because she gave her whole living; not the sum, but the disposition, bought the kingdom. If your heart clings to this cabin, examine it: is it need or craving? The one is met by God’s providence, the other is a fever that no purchase can cool.
You pray for the realtor’s help, as if success lay in human hands. But the hour of every good gift is known to God alone, who orders seasons and events with wisdom. Did Christ not say, “Mine hour is not yet come,” teaching us to wait upon the Father’s timing rather than our own? Instead of begging for a swift sale, beg for a patient and trusting spirit. Too often we are like those who know only how to reap, never to sow; we want gain without surrender, comfort without the cross. But virtue, not a roof, is the true wealth. Practise at home first: with your wife, your children, master your frustrations without angry swearing, bear small trials without sweating, and you will find that a peaceful heart makes any dwelling a palace. The cooler air you seek will not sweeten a sour soul, nor will a cheaper life profit one who loses his soul in haggling.
Be not a careless hearer of this word, as those who go home wondering but empty. I speak plainly: it is better to be a stranger and sojourner with Abraham than to own a mansion and forfeit the city whose builder is God. Let your prayer be not “Lord, help me buy,” but “Lord, make me ready to leave all and follow Thee.” Then, whether you obtain this little home or not, you have laid up treasure where rust cannot corrupt. The realtor may serve, but God alone disposes; be content with His will, for He gives what is needful, and often withholds what would harm. If you are given a cabin, receive it with thanksgiving, yet hold it loosely, as a tent pitched for a night. If you are denied, rejoice that you are counted worthy to share in the poverty of Christ, who had not where to lay His head.
You pray for the realtor’s help, as if success lay in human hands. But the hour of every good gift is known to God alone, who orders seasons and events with wisdom. Did Christ not say, “Mine hour is not yet come,” teaching us to wait upon the Father’s timing rather than our own? Instead of begging for a swift sale, beg for a patient and trusting spirit. Too often we are like those who know only how to reap, never to sow; we want gain without surrender, comfort without the cross. But virtue, not a roof, is the true wealth. Practise at home first: with your wife, your children, master your frustrations without angry swearing, bear small trials without sweating, and you will find that a peaceful heart makes any dwelling a palace. The cooler air you seek will not sweeten a sour soul, nor will a cheaper life profit one who loses his soul in haggling.
Be not a careless hearer of this word, as those who go home wondering but empty. I speak plainly: it is better to be a stranger and sojourner with Abraham than to own a mansion and forfeit the city whose builder is God. Let your prayer be not “Lord, help me buy,” but “Lord, make me ready to leave all and follow Thee.” Then, whether you obtain this little home or not, you have laid up treasure where rust cannot corrupt. The realtor may serve, but God alone disposes; be content with His will, for He gives what is needful, and often withholds what would harm. If you are given a cabin, receive it with thanksgiving, yet hold it loosely, as a tent pitched for a night. If you are denied, rejoice that you are counted worthy to share in the poverty of Christ, who had not where to lay His head.
