The New Testament repeatedly tells us that we are aliens on this earth, part of the Diaspora, the scattering of God’s people. What does it mean to live like an alien?
“And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth.” (Hebrews 11:13)
I was an alien in Argentina for 15 years. I know what that was like. It was hard to not to want to fit in, to be just like everyone else. I never fully lost my accent, never fully lost my foreign ways. I never stopped hearing that question, “Where are you from?” There was something about me that told people that I wasn’t like them.
“People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own.” (Hebrews 11:14)
I wish my spiritual accent were as strong as my Texan accent. I wish that people could tell from hearing me speak that I’m not satisfied to be here, that I’m looking for a country, a heavenly one. I want to live in such a way that people will say “Where are you from?” I don’t want to fit in, don’t want to just be one of the gang.
When I lived in Argentina, I was a responsible neighbor, obeying laws and paying taxes. I tried to do what was right by those around me (even those guys that would sit on the sidewalk and play music full blast for 48 hours straight). Yet I wasn’t Argentine. I couldn’t hold office. I couldn’t vote. I wasn’t from there.
“If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one.” (Hebrews 11:15-16)
Do you suppose that Abraham wore a t-shirt that said “Native of Ur and proud”? Did Ruth flaunt her “Moabite University” in her neighbors’ faces? Would Paul have taught all of his converts of the wonders of Tarsus? Do you think the apostles tried to get elected to the Sanhedrin?
There was a time when God’s people had a physical territory here on earth. They could speak lovingly of Zion, where the temple stood, of lovely Jerusalem, the capital of the Israelite kingdom. This was not mere nationalism, at least when correctly understood. This was about the Promised Land, the covenant land. It was a sign of their relationship with God. It was the center of their worship to God, at least the temple was. It didn’t just happen to be their homeland.
The New Testament compares the Promised Land not to a place in this world, but to the land of rest, our eternal sabbath with God. We don’t put down roots here; we let people know that we long for a better country. We are on our way to a heavenly country.
“Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.” (Hebrews 11:16)
The city that God has prepared for us isn’t Washington D.C. It’s not New York. It’s not even Abilene. God has called us to be citizens of heaven, to inhabit the kingdom of heaven. When people live with that awareness and show it to the people around them, God is not ashamed to be called their God.
That’s my kingdom. That’s where my citizenship lies. That’s why I’m not as concerned about this election as many are. Certainly I recognize that what happens with the kingdoms of this world can affect my kingdom. I’m told to pray for the government, not for the welfare of any earthly kingdom, but in order for there to be peace that we may spread the gospel. It’s quite possible that we may face what the Israelites faced in Egypt, when a pharaoh arose “that did not know Joseph.” God’s kingdom prospers under adversity more than it does under peaceful conditions. I don’t pray for persecution, but I recognize that it is part of my discipleship. Politics and politicians will never determine my spiritual well-being.
I want to regain my spiritual accent. I want people to understand that no, I’m not from here. I want to live a life that looks forward to a heavenly country, not backwards to an earthly one. I want to live in such a way that God will not be ashamed to be called my God.