I am a stranger on earth.

The earth is not my permanent home.

I need communication with my true homeland. This is the essence of verse 19 of Psalm 119.

I feel this when I take stock of 2021, and its been expensive in every way. Its taken more than I can give.

And Friday gives way to Saturday morning, and 2022 isn’t really a clean slate. The ‘hope’ of a new year for many is akin to hoping against gravity, like a Bud Spencer/Terence Hill movie poster I remember.


This coincides with a verse that’s been rattling around in this head since Christmas Eve.

I confess that I haven’t often thought of heaven, despite that fact that God is there, saints are there, people I know are there and as Christ taught us, we daily ought to be praying to ‘our Father in heaven…’

Its a reality that seems so far removed from whatever 2021 was and 2022 is. Not to even mention annus horribilis’ of years past.

Paul writing to the Philippians about citizenship would have been very understandable to them. Philippi was a colony of Rome. They were remote from their Mother city, and while remote, they still retained their Roman culture. They were unlike their neighbours.

I need communication with my true homeland. I need to reconnect with Scripture and be immersed in my citizenship.

I confess it is difficult. My brain has been re-wired in ways that I can’t understand, subjected to trauma, tyranny, time immersed in the slough of despond. The man who lives by Scripture is like a tree planted by waters (Psalm 1) and the feeling is that 2021 has shifted this tree, the ground uncertain, roots out of position and finding their way to water once again.

This pilgrim must make progress. I need communication with my true homeland.

I know I’m a citizen of a place I’ve never been.

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