A Stranger in a Foreign Land: This is Not My Home

"For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come." Hebrews 13:14

I once heard it said that attitude is the difference between an adventure and an ordeal. I've loved the saying ever since, and have even quoted it to myself when tempted to entertain a poor attitude about circumstances, places, or life. I probably like it so much because it makes me feel like I can turn anything into an adventure with the right perspective- and I love adventure- but I also think it makes a good point about how greatly the right attitude can affect everything. 

I know, I know, you've heard this before. "Have a good attitude, blah blah blah." I get it. I'm sure it seems like I'm about to "beat a dead horse," as my mom would say, but I'm merely interested in telling a story; I only hope it's importance won't be lost on you. You see, my outlook has changed regarding a handful of things this year, and I've realized how vital perspective is. It's so powerful, in fact, that the other day I cried tears of joy over what I once scoffed. Perspective changes everything.

One of my many passions in life is traveling. I'm almost certain I've taken some sort of road trip every single year of my entire life, and I'm not talking about a "let's drive two hours to the beach or up north to our cabin" type of vacation. These trips were the real deal. I grew up traveling because my mom and dad loved it too, and once I was old enough to travel on my own, I did. One of the things I appreciate so much about going to new places is the change in perspective they always bring. Maybe it's because I think a whole lot, but new sights never fail to bring me new understanding. 

As you can probably guess, my outlook has notably changed in many ways since moving to California ten months ago. For example, I have a different understanding of what hot means. Yes, 115 degree cloudless, windless, moisture-less weather set quite a new standard for me. I now understand previously unfamiliar things like what it means to have a Michigan accent and what it feels like to be lonely. I also have an unprecedented appreciation for freshwater Great Lakes and the perpetual change of seasons. 

This is what different places, cultures, and people will do- they can change the way you view the world if you let them. 

I have gained many fresh perspectives throughout this year, but the one that has had the biggest impact on me has been the way I look at home. Home: even the word itself is much sweeter to me now. 

Before I moved across the country, I suppose I was more indifferent towards my home. I didn't cherish it like I do now. It wasn't that I disliked my family, my community, or my state- I deeply loved them all- but it was all I had ever known, and I guess I wanted something different. I looked forward to the day when I'd move away, and though I was sad to leave, mostly I was excited to move on. Back then, home was just where I had come from, but it wasn't where I wanted to stay. 

The longer I stayed in California, however, the more I wanted only to be home. It got bad, and consequently it got quite sad. I would become so homesick at times that I'd spend hours snuggled in my Michigan clothing as I flipped through pictures of my family and friends while the worship CD from my old church played in the background. I indulged in everything that had anything to do with my home, desperately wishing I was actually there. It's even embarrassing to type that out- I was certainly (home)sick. 

I once told my roommate I felt I didn't belong here in California. I was partly joking, yet mostly serious as I said to her, "I want to feel about this world as I do about the Central Valley- this place is not my home." She laughed, but my own words struck me hard. I felt a sort of desperation to say, "I'm telling you, this isn't all there is!" It was as if I knew of this place full of extravagant love and beauty and happiness, and where I was certainly wasn't it. Though in my mind I was thinking about my home in Michigan, I wanted my heart to be thinking that way about heaven. I really do want to feel this way about the world, I thought. Just as the Central Valley pales in comparison to my home back East (no offense), I want this world to do compared to heaven.   

This world is not my home. 

Last week I boarded a flight to visit home for eleven days. I could feel my heart beating quickly as I thought about my family and friends I'd soon be seeing, and the glorious weather I would soon be experiencing. I would catch myself smiling subconsciously, wondering if strangers had noticed my peculiarity, grinning at what seemed to them to be nothing. I couldn't wait to be home, and I spent the entirety of my flight in eager anticipation. I thought back to the times I had felt this way about traveling to California, and I thought it funny how much my heart and mind had shifted. 

After six hours and one layover, the plane finally began its descent into Detroit as the pilot announced the 56 degree, mostly cloudy day. I wish I would've timed how long it took us to fly through the clouds- I'm sure it was a good five minutes. We finally broke through and I cried as soon as I laid eyes on the flat-landed metropolis that lay under the thick blanket of cumulonimbus. It was far different than the exquisite mountains or canyons I had flown above on the way over, but it was better. It was plain- gray, almost- in the most beautiful way. It was home. As we neared landing I began to see the beloved features of Autumn as amazing hues of green, yellow, orange, red, and brown covered the landscape. There was nowhere else I wanted to be in that moment (except, maybe, on the ground).

I want to feel this way about the world. I want to be so overwhelmed with the thought of going to my heavenly home that I am brought to tears. If that afternoon was even a fraction of what I will experience on the day when I get to go home to be with my God, I can't begin to fathom how incredible it will be. It will be so awesome, I can't even comprehend it now. I want to feel the same excitement and joy about heaven, and I wonder: do I really feel that? 

This is a difficult question for me sometimes, because I think this world is beautiful. Physically speaking, that is. I love traveling, remember? Many times I can get caught up in that. I say, "But God, what if I don't get to go here and there and everywhere before I die? You know I really want to see this and that," and I begin worrying about whether or not I'll see the sights I want to before I move on from this world to the next. In those moments, I forget where I'm going and, more importantly, who I'm going to see once I get there. I think it's similar to how I felt before I ever came to California: like nothing was as beautiful as what I'd see there. 

Being here has brought me new understanding, though, and it has shattered that illusion. California is beautiful, of course, but in a "this is nice but it's not my home" way. Wherever I may go in my travels will be beautiful, too, I'm sure, but those places will not be my home either. In the same way, I want to live in the knowledge that this world is not my home, and I want that to excite me. I want the very thought of going home to bring me to tears. I want to be so badly homesick that I spend hours indulging in everything that has anything to do with God and His kingdom. I want to live with a desperation for the Lord, for eternity, for heaven, and I want that yearning to propel me to actually say to others, "I'm telling you, this isn't all there is!" 

...

I'm telling you, friends, this isn't all there is. Oh, there is so much more- I barely have the words to describe it. I do know of a place full of extravagant love and beauty and happiness, and I can assure you it isn't this world. I've only seen glimpses of this place with no weeping, pain, or death, but even those small tastes are astonishing. It is a world unlike anything we've ever seen or experienced, and it is our home. 

And home... well, home is automatically a beautiful place.

"But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ." -Philippians 3:20