Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Sunday night, I watched my daughter Danielle standing before our church's college group, describing her local ministry with Somali-Bantu refugees. Her hair was half-pulled back in a pig-tail and she was wearing a ratty t-shirt and baggy jeans. I thought she looked beautiful in a wild sort of way, delightfully out-of-place at the gathering.
This world is not her home, for sure.
The truth is, no one in our family feels terribly settled here on planet earth. There's no place we consider "home." My girls remind me of missionary kids--even thought we've never lived overseas or spent more than two months on the mission field. Their hearts are set on pilgrimage(Psalm 84:5).
What has shaped us so? Well, we've moved A LOT, been through some major traumas, experienced bitter disappointment in both ministry and life--and have tasted and seen the goodness of God. He has used hard circumstances to pry our fingers from their death-grip on this life; He has ruined us for the ordinary by the glimpses of heaven He's given.
We may appear to have one foot firmly planted in our present locations, but the other is definitely stepping heavenward.
This world is not my home,
I'm just a-passin' through
My treasures are laid up
Somewhere beyond the blue
The angels beckon me from Heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home
in this world any more.