Homesick

Last Sunday, our friends from Sydney visited our church, to share their plans of relocating to different parts of Asia. Their convictions for sharing the gospel to unreached people groups had motivated them to make drastic decisions for their families. Besides moving away from Sydney, they would have to learn a new language, adopt a new culture and raise their children in unfamiliar territory.

As I sat with old friends; singing, praying and reminiscing over a meal, I thanked God for bringing me a piece of home. But as the night went on, I started to panic because I wanted to hit the pause button. I wanted this moment to last forever. I wanted more time. There was so much to catch up on, and so many unanswered questions. As we said our goodbyes, and went our separate ways, I had to accept that I was created to serve the Author of Time.

Goodbyes suck and I’ve had to say it so many times in the last three years. Flying in and out of Brisbane has had my heart in a state of limbo. I long to hold onto the comforts of familiarity but I’m also determined to establish roots in a new city. Last month, when I visited Sydney for a wedding, the feeling of being a foreigner in my own city hit me like a tonne of bricks. While planes and technology has helped to make the world a little smaller, I’m homesick because I simply miss being present:

I want to be there to hear your engagement story. To be able to sit on the edge of my seat in shared excitement, as you retell the details of your day.

I want to be there to help you move into your new apartment, and to stand in the location that I will only ever get to see on Skype.

I want to be there to play with your kids and to be known as more than just the aunty on a fridge magnet.

I want to be there to care for my grandmother in old age, just like she did for me when I was a child.

I want to be there to give you a big hug, because I know how much you’ll miss your mum this month.

I want to be there.

For me, ‘home’ is more than a physical location, but the sense of security that I find in the presence of loved ones. I want to belong. I want to be known. The reality is, people grow up and move on. Communities and cultures change. Nobody can possibly fulfil the promise of being there for me, forever. Even my marriage vows acknowledge the future parting that comes with death. We live in a transient, temporary, world where goodbyes are just around the corner. Like a lost nomad, I so often find myself grasping for a security, that simply does not exist.

Being homesick has been revealing of my heart, but it has also inspired awe for Jesus:

In my insecurity, I have learned to lean on the Rock of Ages who has withstood the test of time (Matt 7:24-29).
My King who conquered death, will never tire or abandon (Ps 16:8-11).
He knows my anxious thoughts before they even depart from my lips (Ps 139).
Jesus has proven to me that he is capable of walking with me through all of life’s valleys, in ways that no human possibly can. I am never alone. (Matt 28:20)
Through tears and trials, disappointment and discouragement, I have learned to trust that my Creator is capable of fulfilling the very desires that He has placed in my heart (Ecc 3:11, Ps 37:4).

Being homesick has served as a daily reminder to loosen my grip on this world because I have been chosen for another. I may be a foreigner in a fallen creation, but I have been saved into the house of my heavenly Father who promises to one day welcome me home.

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” – Revelations 21:3-4

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Feature image supplied by Alex Wong (Unsplash).