My paternal grandmother, a native of Coffee County, Alabama, held some interesting superstitions. For instance, she held that if someone swept under your feet when you were sitting down, that meant that you would never marry. She was sure that if the cows were laying down in the field, the fish wouldn’t bite. When picking strawberries, we were never to step across from one row to the next but had to walk to the end of the row and back. I forget what harm would come if we didn’t, but it was bad. And if you woke up in the morning with itchy feet, that was indication that you would soon walk on “strange ground”.
I’ve always enjoyed walking on “strange ground”. I like visiting new places, walking through unfamiliar towns, and taking in interesting new sights. For many years, we’ve brought home coffee mugs from places we visit and as we use them throughout the year, we remember our time in these previously-unknown places. Savannah. Dubai. New York City. South Africa. Chennai. Seattle. Maine. We love everything about travel – the airports, the interesting accents, the local cuisine, the free toiletries at hotels, the colorful brochures at rest stops. We love walking on “strange ground”, but, on every trip, we eventually reach an indeterminate threshold where we’re just ready to be home. I’ve seen all I want to see. At that point, I just want to turn off the hard road, hear the familiar gravel of my driveway under my wheels, fix myself a drink and sit on my deck! The longer we’re away, the noisier my “inner toddler” gets! Are we there yet?
This experience parallels something we all know from living in a Genesis 3 world. This is not home. In fact, the more brokenness we witness, the less attached we remain. Uvalde. Buffalo. Kyiv. Even Knoxville disappoints us at times. Add to that the ordinary sorrows of life. Sickness. Separation. Relational difficulty. The ordinary stresses of life have a way of “loosening the roots” and stirring desires for home. We always quote C.S. Lewis here because he articulates this ache so well. “If I find in myself desires”, he said, “which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” Isn’t it true that much of the frustration that we feel in life comes from expecting from life what life was never meant to deliver? This is not home.
One of the many assurances of the gospel is that we will not always live in this foreign place. Our citizenship, Paul said, is in heaven (Philippians 3:20). It’s hard to imagine a place as glorious as our eternal home. No sorrow. No pain. No death. We won’t spend eternity on “strange ground”. In time, we make it home. So, encourage your hearts with the assurance that, when “traveling days are over”, we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Derek Kidner wrote of that last phrase of the 23rd. “To be God’s guest is to be more than an acquaintance, invited for a day. It is to live with him. It is a pilgrimage that ends at the house of the Lord. It is also a journey home”. That’s what you and I ache for. Home.
The back-and-forth catechesis of Andrew Peterson’s hymn has often quieted that restless toddler inside me.
Do you feel the world is broken? [We do.]
Do you feel the shadows deepen? [We do.]
But do you know that all the dark won’t
Stop the light from getting through? [We do.]
Do you wish that you could see it all made new? [We do.]
Is all creation groaning? [It is.]
Is a new creation coming? [It is.]
Is the glory of the Lord to be the light within our midst? [It is.]
Is it good that we remind ourselves of this? [It is.]