Echos

Twice in the last three days I have heard the same sentiment. "This world is not our home."

The first time I heard it during our Sunday morning study of Hebrews 11. The writer of Hebrews draws a parallel between the followers of Jesus and Abraham. Abraham was a sojourner, or somebody who stayed somewhere temporarily. The land where he dwelt was never really his in spite of God's promise that his descendants would possess it.

The second time was today at the funeral of our son-in-law's mother. The priest conducting the service made the same statement. This world is not our home. We live here for a short time and then move on to an eternal home.

Since I don't believe in  coincidence, I've been rolling this around in my head all afternoon. What does it look like to live as a sojourner?

I always hear the words of that old song - "This world is not my home. I'm just a-passing through"- when I hear someone speak along these lines. I've doodled a wall hanging that I will probably (maybe) make some day with the lyrics on it.

Abraham was a nomad. He had a lot of stuff from what I have read, but it was practical and portable stuff. When I look around our house, I see stuff, but lots of it is purely aesthetic. While I don't see anything sinful with making our home look nice, if I become defined by the structure itself or the things in it, my attitude is not that of a sojourner.

More than physical things, I believe living as a temporary citizen means having an eye on going home. All my decisions, the things I value, should reflect an understanding of the transient nature of life on this earth and a willingness to liquidate my assets if called to do so for the glory of the Gospel.

Time passes so quickly now, so much more quickly than it seemed to just a few years ago. The older I get, the more I want to live like the speaker in the song who says he's laying up his treasures "somewhere beyond the blue."