Foreigner

Jesu ti amo.  My heart longed to leave this amiable place last night—not because of unfriendly scowls, poor treatment, indigestible food, or lack of modern amenities—for my experience has been quite the opposite.  My cry for home arose because of an acute awareness that this is a foreign place and I am foreign in it. Although we share the essential elements of humanity; body, souls, and desires, our hearts really cry for the same God, whether we are aware of it or not, and yet the walls of separation somehow seem to loom larger in certain moments.  My lack of ability to communicate, competing values, and differing approaches to life act as a barrier to a culture that I long to feel at home in. Worse yet, I sense that what I am longing for may not come for an indeterminable amount of time.

And so last night I poured out my wounded sense of belonging to a God who was also a foreigner in this land. Where I have been received on certain levels, he was rejected.  Where I have not wanted for food or amenities, he likely had far less then the bounty of my suitcases and the resources my credit card affords me. By comparison to my Lord, my weakened humanity is exposed all the more—my limitations, my sense of entitlement, my lack of trust that this will ever feel like home. It would be entirely appropriate for Him to shame me for this weakness. I am like a child, unable to tie her shoe, after repetitive demonstrations from her father. He has patiently walked me through the steps of the seemingly unachievable in every imaginable way, always exercising patience, care, and love—a daddy’s heart to be there for his child. And yet with this new foreign task before me, my doubt surfaces again, my sense of inadequacy rises, and my words of self condemnation are not far behind.  All of this spews out rapidly to my God, surprisingly recognizable as I have been here in this place before. This sense of need is not foreign.

Jesu ti amo. Foreign words for a foreign place. They are among the few in my lexicon. Jesus transcends my lack of ability to communicate and every other lack in my being. A subtle pressure on my shoulders, as if someone is standing behind me. The presence is so real that I almost turn my head to see who is there. And yet I know without looking and it causes me to weep. He is the familiar in this alien place and will remain so.

Familiar words come to mind, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever present help in time of trouble (Ps. 46:1).”  My safe place, my fortress, my inner enabler, my always present Father. I am moved to that familiar text and notice the phrase “The Lord almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress” is the repetition my heart is longing to here. Just as God was with Jacob, who was himself a man of weakness, a foreigner, so he is with me. The soft pressure on my shoulders remains as a reminder as I move through the monotonous tasks of preparing to end my day and I am strangely comforted.

“Shout with joy to God, all the earth!  Sing to the glory of His name: offer him glory and praise!”  ~Ps. 66:1