Longing for the Unseen Home
Hebrews 11:13: “These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth..”
I was thinking the other day about my own life. I’ve spent a good chunk of time in the school system, and you learn to recognize a place when you see it. You know the smell of the old gym floor, the sound of the bell, the way the light hits the library windows at Sunrise. But sometimes, when I’m driving over to Twin on Golf Course Road, I get this strange feeling. It’s not just nostalgia for a place I was; it’s a yearning for a place I should be.
It’s the feeling of being homesick for a paradise we’ve never seen.
We read the stories of Adam and Eve, and we see the picture of perfection, a garden, a perfect peace. And then we see the fall. We see the brokenness that followed. We find ourselves here, in this world, which is a beautiful place in its own way, but it’s a broken place. It’s a place of worry, of sickness, of things that don't quite fit.
How do we navigate that? How do we live in the middle of this brokenness while our soul is whispering, "I belong somewhere else"?
The answer, I think, is found in the promise, not in the present circumstances.
Think about our nightlight. These faithful people, they weren't just hoping for a better tomorrow; they were seeing it. They were looking past the immediate mess, the broken world, the daily struggles, and they were focused on the destination.
We are, in a way, pilgrims. We are travelers passing through a temporary lodging. Our true citizenship isn't here; it’s in the Kingdom of God.
So, how do we navigate the ache?
First, we have to acknowledge the ache. Don't try to stuff it down with distractions. That longing is a good thing. It’s the Holy Spirit nudging you toward your true home. It’s the soul recognizing its origin.
Second, we have to anchor ourselves in the reality of that home. We don't navigate by looking at the brokenness around us; we navigate by looking at the promise of what is coming. We look at Jesus. He is the one who walked this broken earth, but He also showed us the way back to the Father’s house.
And finally, we have to live as if we are already there, even while we are still here. That means practicing grace. It means treating your neighbor with the dignity of a citizen of heaven, even if they are acting like a resident of this broken world. It means finding small pockets of peace, a quiet moment, a shared meal, a moment of honest prayer, and treating those moments like a preview of the eternal joy.
The world will always feel heavy. The brokenness will always be present. But our hope isn't a wish; it’s a destination. We are homesick for heaven, yes, but that homesickness is the very thing that keeps us moving forward, trusting that the journey is worth the wait.
May you find a little bit of that peace today, knowing where you truly belong.
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