But our citizenship is in heaven - and we also await a savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ… (Philippians 3:20)
I’m a patriot. I love my country with passion, though I’ve never been there. I was born in a foreign land, where my father came from. Mother and Father met when she visited his country, but she made sure I received citizenship in her homeland.
When Dad saw how things were going in his land, he changed his citizenship to the same as ours.
I’m amazed by the patriotism of those I live among. They love their country. More accurately, they love what their country was, or what they hope it will be. They complain about what it is. Still, they wave flags and sing anthems, and I grow quiet. When they brag about the landmark sites of their despoiled land, it’s hard for me to keep silent about my home.
I understand patriots. I also get crazy mad defending my people and my government. Let anyone speak against our heritage and my adrenalin runs. I catch snatches of my mother’s songs, hear our accent spoken, or read about the coming reunion, and my mind flies home.
A dialysis connection binds me to the capital of my country. My blood flows to that radiant city where it’s purified, then returned to my vagabond body.
Others consider me crazy to be a flaming patriot of a land I’ve never been to. But the place is so amazing that you don’t have to see it to be a loyalist of heaven.
Prayer: King of Paradise, I’m ready to immigrate whenever you say, “Come home.”