Home.

It’s a seemingly simple concept. But as you begin to peel back its layers, you find it’s quite an elusive thing. Sometimes it’s a physical place, on other days it’s a feeling built upon layers and layers of meaning.

In the past 7 years, I’ve looked for “home” in 5 different countries. As I journeyed from country to country, continent to continent, that task grew next to impossible.

My idea of Home had become a shapeshifter of sorts: I found it in a solo walk through the woods; in bed snuggling with my roommates as we watched a movie; in a stuffy MRT train during peak hour.

With my constant migration, Home was no longer tied to a physical place. After leaving the country for my first overseas port of call, I was no longer “Singaporean” enough – but never [fill in other nationality] enough. And it left me feeling displaced.

And as my identity experienced this growing displacement, so did my Christian walk. I didn’t completely lose or forget my identity in Christ, but I no longer knew what I was journeying towards.

I no longer knew the road home.

My heart is a wanderer (Jeremiah 17:9). It is curious. It questions. It doubts. It rebels. It sins. Again and again.

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here’s my heart, Lord, take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above

I’m that hiker who intentionally walks right past the “Out of Bounds” signs. Sometimes, these decisions have taken me to stunning vantage points, overlooking snow-capped mountains and icy lakes. But I’ve also often found myself right at cliff’s edge – where one more rebellious step could see me plummet to my own death.

Many times I would come to the edges of my own faith, grasping at the loose threads of what remained. In my pursuit of earthly wisdom, I sank deeper and deeper into disbelief and doubt.

In my rebellion, I desperately wanted to be of the world. I wanted to be just another college kid having fun – not a child of the Most High. Cannot meh?

I’m a big believer in the Socratic method – of questioning and re-questioning. However, such inquiry becomes precarious when you do it for the wrong reasons. Rather than pursuing The Truth, I was holding up philosophical texts, one after another – challenging God to prove me wrong.

In my rebellion, I desperately wanted to be of the world. I wanted to be just another college kid having fun – not a child of the Most High. Cannot meh?

Soon, my relationship with Christ was reduced to pocket-sized religion, which I could conveniently tuck away as I walked into yet another party with my red plastic cup in hand, filled with a bad mix of cheap college vodka and vending-machine cranberry juice.

My faith became lunch-time conversation as schoolmates discussed Nietzsche, Marx and Sartre while scoffing at Christ, between spoonfuls of quinoa and miso kale – don’t worry, all #organic, #vegan and #glutenfree.

I just wanted to #liveitup. Why is the Christian walk so hard?

But here’s The (Hard) Truth: So often we make the mistake of thinking that life becomes a breeze after we say the sinners’ prayer – and we couldn’t be more wrong. The Christian walk is not supposed to be comfortable. As Christians, we are permanently displaced in the world.

How are we supposed to feel at home in a world that is immoral, selfish and corrupt when our God is the total opposite: Pure, loving and kind?

If you’ve been in Christian circles for long enough, you’ll know that we’re called to be set apart from the ways of the world (2 Timothy 2:21), to be in the world but not of it (John 15:19).

But how do we practically live these verses out on a daily basis?

That means beginning to say “yes” to Christ, and “no” to the world.

Walking with Christ is a daily commitment. It’s a daily decision to die to self and to live for Christ (Romans 6:11-14).

It’s saying: God, I don’t have all the answers, but give me the courage to look like a fool for you the next time someone asks if I actually believe in this weird Heaven-and-Hell dichotomy – or why I believe some carpenter hung on a tree and how that washed away my sins.

It’s about laying down our pride to seek God wholeheartedly, that He may reveal Himself to us.

Whether I was hiking a mountain in Norway or driving through the harsh deserts of Chile, God was there – present in the intricacies of a snowflake, in the wildness of the desert winds.

As Christ-followers, our duty is no longer to be comfortable in the world, but journeying towards the One who comforts.

Our hearts should no longer be about finding Home in the world, but building an eternal kingdom as citizens of Heaven.

You’re probably familiar with the classic parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32). He’d chosen to make merry with the world and was left with less food than the pigs of the fields.

“How many of my father’s hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death!” (Luke 15:17).

How often have we exchanged heavenly robes for earthly rags? Why would I want to be just another person of the world when I am a beloved daughter of the King of Kings?

Despite my futile attempts to disprove God, He was patient and faithful with me – and He redeems. When I didn’t grab onto the ropes He threw to pull me out of my fiery pit of disbelief, He reached down and lifted me up (Psalm 71:20). He brought me friends and mentors to help me work through the hard questions of my faith.

Looking back, I now realise that at every juncture of my life, God was knocking on the door of my heart, wanting to pour forth infinite comfort and agape love.

Whether I was hiking a mountain in Norway or driving through the harsh deserts of Chile, God was there – present in the intricacies of a snowflake, in the wildness of the desert winds.

Increasingly, in each encounter, I found myself yielding my heart to my Creator.

Throughout my years of making “home” in different places in the world, I have experienced how God is not confined to a culture or country. Maybe we’ve misunderstood the idea of “home” altogether.

Maybe Home isn’t a place in our universe but in the highest of heavens. We’ll never truly be at home in the world, because we are en route to our eternal Home. Life is ever-unfolding and so is my journey with Christ.

I am ever-journeying – ever in constant motion towards Home on the road that leads to Life.