Citizen

The words tumbled out while I was making a cursory effort to say grace at supper, with one of my daughters sneaking pickles and the other talking to the dog: “Thank you, God, that we are citizens”.

The word caught me off guard. Where did that come from? I held the moment, the word, and then it held me. Citizen.

Here’s the context and maybe that word, carried on the breath of God, will beak apart in you too:

So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.
Ephesians 2:19‭-‬22 ESV

Citizen of heaven. Feel the weight of that. Feel the weight of this world slip off and crumble, like the dusty foundation it is. Feel any allegiance, any patriotism, any hostility, pride, shame, discouragement, anger, dismay and fear break and fall like a wave on the sand. Let it lay at your feet, at the foot of the cross, on the alter of sacrifice. This is not a new concept. We, as the saved, know we belong to another place, that we will be called to a new heaven and a new earth and an eternal life. But read those words from Ephesians again, and make it personal. And for today, because it is for this life and not just the next.

I feel two things: why have I become lost in all the heartbreak and brokeness? And where are my fellow citizens?

These are tied together.

I haven’t been able to put my finger on the lostness I’ve felt on it until now. Until God whispered to me: you are a citizen of my kingdom. You live under my law of grace and love. You are governed by mercy and goodness and truth. You are protected by my strong arm.

My banner over you is love.

You are a dwelling place for my spirit.

You are no longer a stranger or orphan or refugee or person without a home or name.

You are mine. Forever.

It feels like freedom, as the events of this last year – both globally and intimately – have crushed in on me, stealing my breath.

I’ve been shackled to the events: the unknown, the uncertainty and the bitter clawing for a chance to be on top, to be right, to be justified. Everywhere it’s a battle for opinions and truths. I’ve forgotten that only faith can justify me, that my only righteousness comes from Christ. My citizenship to God’s kingdom gives me certainty for the future, healing for heartbreak, inarguable truth for non-stop opposing views, and an identity that is not born out of anything in this broken world.

But then, I need to know where my fellow citizens are. Where is the talk on how to love radically, reach the hopeless, build the kingdom? Why is our breath and anger and “righteousness” wasted on things that wither like grass? Why are we lost in what we think is important? Why can’t we talk about the devil’s plans in broad terms, without bringing political parties into it? Why are we arguing and alienating and raising flags that don’t last? Where is our unity?

Where were you during the thousands of   pinprick heartbreaks, when hope was shaken? Or when my husband’s father died, then his aunt, then his widowed uncle, then his cousin? Where were you as my faith waivered for the first time, afraid to ask God for anything, afraid of another no, afraid goodness is just another lie? Where were you to point me to truth when I think all is hopeless? To explain Joy again, that it’s not just coming up for air? Where were you to hold my pain as yours, as just pain? Heartbreak has no political agenda and we’ve lost sight of that. Being swallowed up by the world is not more complicated than that, when you get down to the heart language of it. When you have eyes to see and ears to hear.

Where were you? For me? For my neighbors, for our fellow citizens of heaven?

We’ve been so busy, so dismayed, with our worldly citizenship that we’ve forgotten our first, true and eternal citizenship. The one that matters. The one that comes first. The one that is True and Just and not ours to control. We are not occupied by the things of God, for whatever reason. We have lost sight of the kingdom we are supposed to be becoming knit into it.

And we have lost sight of each other.

But God hasn’t. He hasn’t lost his citizens in the mess of the world. He won’t lower his banner over us, he won’t be overturned or weakened or fade or change. His justice is perfect, his power is unchallenged, his love and affection for us is unfathomable.

Let’s reclaim our citizenship. Our allegiance. Our unity. Let our words build each other and the kingdom, and be words of absolute and holy Truth. Let us stand for grace, let us be known for our love and unity, let us be a safe place to break apart, and let us always lead each other to our Savior.

Let us figure out what citizenship to heaven means on earth.