Aliens and Strangers

All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country – a heavenly one. Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them. Hebrews 11: 13-16

…aliens and strangers

For two years, I’ve struggled to find home in my passport country. We’ve built a house, rekindled friendships, trekked across America visiting relatives, forged new friendships, and introduced our kids to their passport country with all its culture and quirks. Some things are so familiar, so reassuring. Other days I watch with distaste and I would rather never adjust completely to this place. Shopping is so easy, but materialism so rampant. Casual clothes are so comfortable, but why do all my neighbors wear jeans and t-shirts to the fine arts concert at school? Understanding the nuances of the language around me is a daily relief, but the language and images on our television is frightening. In many ways, I will never again be home in this world. I admit it: I’m an alien in my passport country. I look like I belong, I sound like I belong, I may even act like I belong, but I will always be a stranger in the way I think.

…opportunity to return

Some days I wish to pack my bags and hop on an airplane. Not because I’m convinced that God needs me on the other side of the world, but because I miss the lifestyle of travel, and the challenge of interacting with people who think differently than me. I long to bump into people who are comfortable with transition between place and culture, who understand my reference points. I wish for my kids to find a place of belonging outside of our house. I’d love to show my family my childhood haunts, or visit the places of their childhood with them once more. How fantastic it would be to hug a friend and chat over a cup of tea or celebrate Midsummer’s Eve again. Other days I just wish to fit in, to think the way my friends and neighbors in rural Wisconsin think, to be satisfied with similar pursuits.

But do I long to be wholly comfortable with my passport culture? No. I prefer the person and the perspective I am now. The inclinations of my heart grow more and more like they should be with each passing challenge and change God has allowed me to experience.

…a better country

For that matter, do I long to be comfortable in this fallen world? Sometimes, but I recognize that those moments of joy and satisfaction are on the whole a shadow of the perfectness to come, not a reality to expect in this life. On days when my life as a pastor’s wife shows me again and again the tragedy and sadness of this world, I am so glad to remember that many people have died living by faith, and welcoming the things promised from a distance. Therein lies the poignancy of the day to day: to bear the heartaches and the longings… to see what could be but isn’t... to admit that life isn’t what it should be… to see sin and its consequences around me… to cry for what is… and all the while to catch glimpses of the things promised and to welcome them from a distance. And then I realize that although I am an alien, I am not alone. It is as it should be. Any believer, no matter where we take up residence, should feel the same way I do, never quite comfortable, always longing for a better country.