God has placed a homing device deeply embedded inside your heart that longs for home. There’s a restlessness that we feel. Paul called it a “groaning” for the time and place when our questions will be answered, we will no longer be alone, and we will be released to live up to our fullest potential as redeemed human-beings without the results of the Fall. By blessing us with a deep dissatisfaction, God holds our attention. God gives us many pleasant inns to stay in, but does not want us to mistake them for home. It would be a tragedy to be satisfied prematurely, to settle for earth only as it presently is and simply live for the now. We’re not happy here. Why? Because we’re not supposed to be. This is the first step toward honest spirituality. The confession that I can’t quite get the life I want sets you up for the life you need. This longing for happiness and home leads us to so many places: geographical places, vocational places, relational places. But even the best of them, leave us longing for something more. Our longings leave us restless because the place they are looking to find rest is not here. It’s OK to hurt and feel sad and feel unmet longings. We can deny “homesickness at home”; we can cover it over with busyness and pleasures, but we cannot get rid of it. C.S. Lewis said, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not mean the universe is a fraud…earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing (The Quotable Lewis).”
Earth is crammed with heaven, but what we experience in this world is merely a scent of a flower we have not found; the echo of a tune that we have not heard; news from a country we have not visited. This life is full of mere remnants left over from the Fall. Every joy on earth is an inkling, a whisper of greater joy. Think of the most awesome, thrilling thing you can do and it is but an echo of a greater pleasure to come, a fallen remnant of what once was. The best parts of the old world are sneak previews of the one to come. Homesick at home.