We met outside of a church that provided free food for the homeless. He rode up on his bicycle with an odd lump in the chest area of his jacket. This man, probably just a little younger than I am, stopped to see what my teammate and I were looking at. As he got off of his bicycle, the odd lump wiggled and a scrappy puppy peaked his head over the zipper and out of the neck hole of his warm, jacket home. My teammate and I giggled, and without thought, I reached to pet the tiny mutt. The man was slightly taken aback but introduced me to (and eventually let me hold) little Hank.
Over the course of the next few days and a couple chance encounters, Hank’s human and I started becoming friends. Conversation would occasionally run dry, or slip into being unintelligible as he was wrestling with his haunted past, but what he taught me will stick with me for a lifetime.
Our first week on World Race America was spent living in a homeless shelter. We followed the strict rules of the shelter, spent most of the frigid days feeling underdressed on the streets, wandered around to find places that would provide us with meals and warmth, led Bible studies, and built incredible relationships through sharing life with the people we met there.
Honestly, though, it was a confusing time for me. For all intents and purposes, I was homeless. I had no money and no spare set of clothes; I slept in a nightgown and bunk bed borrowed from the shelter; I carried what I owned on my back; I sat on the sidewalk and watched the passersby look at me with disgust, or cross the street so they wouldn’t have to walk near me. But this was a choice; I could not fully comprehend the intensity of being homeless. I had a loving family that wanted to give me a bed, food, and warm clothes. With a simple ask, I probably would have been gifted almost anything I wanted and not just the bare necessities.
“I’m just houseless, not homeless, ya know?” Hank’s human expressed as he was sharing with me about his current situation. “Like, I have friends, and this isn’t forever,” he added. That’s when it clicked for me: I am houseless, not homeless.
Over the last few years, I have been a nomad wandering the earth with purpose, quickly declaring any place I would lay my head at night to be my home (the van? yup. my tent? yeah. your house? probably also yes.)
But it wasn’t just about my current situation.
As I spent time with the Lord the next morning, He revealed to me again, the place that I call “home,” isn’t my home.
I am just a visitor here on earth. I am a stranger and an exile here (Hebrews 11:13).
It took living amongst the homeless population for me to begin to understand what it means to be a stranger and an exile in my own country. It was uncomfortable. I looked different. People hurried away from me, took photos of us like we were an exhibit, some extended a charitable hand.
The truth is, even though the United States is my country, my home and my citizenship are not here. And if you’re a believer, yours isn’t either.
But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ
Philippians 3:20
We should feel uncomfortable here. As a consequence of sin in the world, we are a wandering people. Like the Israelites, we have been displaced and we are in search of and waiting for our true home. Honestly, I am praying that you feel uncomfortable.
Maybe that sounds harsh, but feeling uncomfortable on earth is a blessing. Do you know what happens to the people whose mind is set on earthly things? “Their end is destruction (Phil. 3:19).” So again, I am praying that you feel uncomfortable in the world.
It is the kind of discomfort that can only be soothed by the Comforter. The kind of discomfort that needs peace that surpasses understanding and joy outside of circumstance. The kind of comfort that only comes when you abandon the world to take hold of the Word.
However, being a citizen of heaven extends way past just feeling discomfort in the world and the need for a Comforter. So, what does it mean to be a citizen?
Find out in part 2 of Houseless, not Homeless.
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