longing for my home

There’s a place where I come from
It’s the place where I belong
Where you will never die
Wipe the tears off from your eyes
-Burlap to Cashmere

Two days ago, I was walking to the church in order to meet some friends to go visit an elderly lady in the congregation. As I walked up a hill on Zaragoza street, I began to pass a dirty-looking, green house on the right, from which emanated a displeasing odor. There were two middle-aged women outside of the house, one of which was yelling something at the other. Having my iPod in my ears, I didn’t understand the yelling, but I understood the situation perfectly as soon as I saw the other woman.

Her dirty, matted hair stood wildly on end. A blank stare filled (or emptied) her face. And she was almost completely naked. In broad daylight, standing in the street, she was covered only with a bra and a towel stuffed between her legs. The other woman continued to yell at her, supposedly trying to get her to come back into the house. I passed by this bizarre scene, trying not to stare, and quickening my pace out of fear that the crazy naked woman would chase me down the street.

As the fear passed, a tremendous sadness set in. We were not made for this. But this is where the Enemy wants us, and this is what our human nature accomplishes. With these forces against us, the original beauty and dignity of humanity disintegrates into the depravity of this poor woman.

In contrast to this story, allow me to tell you another.

One of my 10th grade students, whom we’ll call Fernanda, just came to know Jesus. The whole year up until now, she was an Emo girl. Dark eyeliner make-up, super-intraverted, hardly ever smiled at anything, always writing dark song lyrics in her textbooks. She has a rough family situation: her parents are separated, and although she lives with her mom, the mom doesn’t really care for her or her siblings.

Then she came to church about two weeks ago. I was surprised to see her, and although she looked a little shy at the first, something appeared to be different about her. That whole week she was definitely different. She was smiling. Beaming. I began to get curious. So I called her aside one day at school and asked her what was going on. She told me, “I don’t really know. I came to church and began to sing the songs, and I couldn’t stop. Then I started jumping and dancing, and couldn’t stop. I just felt God enter my heart. I can’t describe it any better than that. I don’t know when it happened, it just happened.”

I saw how Fernanda was before. And I see her now. Joy and happiness radiate from her face. She’s encountered something different. She’s found the One to whom she truly belongs.

I checked my Facebook account the other day and found something I wasn’t expecting to find among my friends’ status updates (for you old folks that don’t know what I’m talking about, ask the nearest high school or college student). One of my friends, a deep thinker and Christ-lover, had written “Sarah can’t wait for heaven.” Sadly, directly beneath her status update, another friend of mine (neither a deep thinker nor Christ-lover) had posted, “Jessica is loving the drink.” [real names not used].

Seeing these polar opposite statements in such proximity made me laugh out loud at first, but I quickly sobered after realizing the gravity of such a contrast. The latter friend is content in this world, satisfied (supposedly) with what it has to offer: fun, drink, boys, girls, parties, etc. The former friend is longing, aching for something more, knowing that there is something far more complete and solid beyond our broken, empty world.

The naked crazy woman on Zaragoza street and the pure joy I now see in Fernanda’s life are vivid illustrations that shout at us to be like my friend Sarah, who longs for heaven. To ache for that place where we truly belong, where everything of this world will only seem like a shadow or an echo in comparison, that is our call, our lifeline.

Oh, to one day be like Jewel the Unicorn in C.S. Lewis’ The Last Battle who, upon seeing the beauty of the real Narnia after the destruction of the old one, cried:

I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that it sometimes looked a little like this. Bree-hee-hee! Come further up, come further in!