Not Home Yet
“And so Jesus also suffered outside the city gate to make the people holy through his own blood. Let us, then, go to Him outside the camp, bearing the disgrace He bore. For here we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for a city that is to come.” -Heb 13:12-14
“Go outside the city gate, we are as fallen stars/who fancy ourselves eagles at best, ashamed of who we are/Preference catered to fit the mold of worldly wealth and fame/Decisions based on circumstance, tradition, rules and blame//Seek to hope on the One who came and rose again for us/Seek to run the race that defies our pride, our hate, our lust/When you stumble or fall, don’t give up, for you are not alone/Light from above is shining on you and through Christ will guide you home.”
It seems that so much of what we do is geared towards planning for the future of this life, for planning out ways to make ourselves feel more comfortable. I know I, at times, have felt a deep need to work towards having a house and making more than enough money to provide for myself and a potential future family, accompanied by a feeling that I ought to help others out of that (“when I make enough” of course). It is more than just provision I seek, though; it is comfort. It is establishing a place in which I call my own, a place that distracts from the fact that this isn’t home. So I seek to establish myself through work and money, through acceptance from others— and this is considered the norm. What happens when that house falls? What becomes of the life I’ve built when any number of things happen that take away from it; when God is literally all I have left? Suddenly I will realize that what was once considered a means to an end has become an end in itself. The things I did and said in order to gain comfort have become who I am. “When I fed them, they were satisfied; when they were satisfied, they became proud; then they forgot me.” (Hosea 13:6)
The things we seek end up becoming ends in and of themselves. At best, the life we seek to establish should act as reflections of what is to come; reminders that we will have a settlement, so to speak, in the land we belong in. These things aren’t always bad (they can be blessings), but what we often aspire to become ultimate things and are not going to fulfill the needs and wants we deeply long for. “…It was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing [...] For they are not the thing itself, they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.” (CS Lewis The Weight of Glory). Way off in the distance, there is a barely discernable outline of a city we belong to; of a mountain we have yet to touch. There is a city hosting “thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly.” Here we will “come to God, the judge of all men, to the spirits of righteous men made perfect, to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.” (Hebrews 12:22-24) This entire earth is a mission field, this life a journey home. No matter what we feel, God’s grace is poured upon us daily and is what strengthens us for the treacherous path as He keeps our feet from being snared. Press on, move forward and remember through good and bad to be content with what you have; for the only thing that lasts, in the end, is you.
Not to say that I’ve grasped this concept myself; these are just thoughts. Thoughts I want to live by.
If you want to find me, I’ll be shouting this from the CSU Fresno lawn with a giant carboard sign and a loudspeaker. Just kidding.
