Our real home

I’m somewhat tired of thinking about politics, elections, who won, who didn’t, and why.

I’ve done my share of poll-watching and blog-reading, but now I’m ready to move on.

Coincidentally—or perhaps not—I came to the following verses in Paul’s letter to the Christians at Philippi, and it reminded me of something important.

Perhaps it will help you in your devotional time today.

But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself (Philippians 3:20-21).

These Christians were proud of their city. Philippi was a Roman colony, and they were Roman citizens. Those facts carried enormous privileges.

Paul—writing from the capital of the Roman Empire—felt like they needed a bit of a wake-up call.

“Our citizenship is in heaven,” he gently reminded them.

We live here on earth for a little while, he writes, but we keep our eyes peeled out for the eventual return of Jesus. When he comes, he’ll transform this old messed-up body into one like his glorious body.

There was nothing wrong with being Roman citizens—Paul sometimes used his citizenship to his advantage—but he wanted them to remember what was most important.

We’re Christians first of all, and then Romans.

Maybe we need that reminder as well.

Except for a few of you, almost everyone receiving these devotionals lives in the United States. There’s a strong patriotic sentiment here, and it’s always been that way.

“I’m proud to be an American,” we sometimes sing.

During election seasons, when claims of patriotism surround us, perhaps we ought to be reminded again.

We’re Christians first, and then Americans.

We belong to God primarily, and then maybe to a political party.

We’re tent-dwellers down here . . . but our Lord is working on our permanent home up there.

The same power that raised Jesus will one day snatch us up out of our graves, and he’ll escort us to the place we really belong.

Until we get there, we’ll always feel somewhat ill at ease in this world.

But that’s to be expected because, in a very real sense, we’re just visiting down here for a little while.

It’s not really our home.

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