Iraq isn’t home.
This place is so nice. I love the people. I love so many of their values. I love drinking chai. I love the relationships I’ve made here.
But it isn’t home.
I will never be Kurdish.
I will never completely understand the culture.
The language is foreign, the way people dress is foreign.
Even if I lived here a decade I would still stick out like a sore thumb. I am an alien to this land.
Even when days are their very best, the weather beautiful, the conversation amazing, part of my heart still longs to be home, to be in Texas.
I am IN Iraq, but I am not OF Iraq
Is this how I should feel about living in the world?
Is this what it looks like to be in the world but not of the world?
Is this what Jesus meant when He said, “My prayer is not that you take them out of the world . . . They are not of the world, even as I am not of it.” (John 17:15-16)
I am an alien to this planet.
The world is not my home, the united states not my home.
Texas isn’t even my true home.
Heaven is my home.
I am called to love the people in this world. I am here to live among them and show them God’s love and mercy.
But it isn’t my home. I should never feel that I belong here. My ways should be different, my language different, my love different.
Even on the best of days I should long for my true home with my Lord.
Perhaps I should be a bit more homesick.