Chicago

“I’ve lived in this neighborhood for over 5 years and I’m still considered an outsider. It takes a long time to become on the inside of this community. It means going out of your way and partnering with organizations already doing something here. And even if you do that, it takes a really long for you to become even a part of the inside with them. You’re a visitor to this neighborhood this next year. This isn’t your home. Remember that.”

Welcome to Chicago! This was one of the first pieces of advice I was given by someone here in the community upon arriving at my new “home” for the next year.

“Remember, you are just a visitor. This is not your home.”

They were right you know. I’m clearly not at home here. Spanish is not my first language, I’m a different race than 99% of the people living here, and I bring in a whole new culture to this world. No matter how long I stay, or how hard I attempt, I can never become a complete part of their culture. It wasn’t mine to begin with. I wasn’t born into it.

For the first time apart from my study abroad experience, I’m now living as a visitor in someone else’s culture. I’ve become the minority in language, culture, race, and even religion. And in some new ways I have not previously known, I have been reminded of Home.

I feel it when I have to communicate in Spanish. I feel it when I pass people on the street and there is a split second where I’m not sure whether I should say “hello” or “hola.” I feel it when I go for a walk and see the diving lines of communities by the physical landmarks that have been set up. Or when I pass the archway so clearly built as one enters the community that says “Bienvenidos a La Villita.”

And you know what? It is so good for me to be a part of the “outsiders.” So good for me to be the minority. Why? Because I am so reminded of the gospel.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word WAS God….And the word became FLESH and DWELT among us…” (John 1)

God Himself- the Creator of all things, the One who holds it all together in the palm of His hand, the One who just SPOKE and things came into being….this God of whom all Creation bows before and screams His praises, who tells the waves just how far they can come on the sand and controls exactly where the lightning strikes- this God who is such a mystery----put on flesh and threw up a tent in our backyard. He moved into our neighborhood. He came to us. Why?

“The Bible from Genesis 3 to Revelation 22 tells the story of a God reckless with desire to get His family back. God struck the decisive blow of reconciliation when He sent the Son on a long journey to planet earth. The Bible’s last scene ends in jubilation, the family united once again.”

It’s the story of a family scattered all over the world. A family that was displaced ever since the garden. We see reminders of this displacement in refugee camps today. Where family members are separated, not knowing when or if they will ever see those they love again. It’s this heartbreaking, most beautiful story ever written. Heartbreaking because the children that were so deeply loved and pursued by the most faithful Father ever known, pushed Him away and ran and hid. Heartbreaking because they thought their way, their sin, was better than Him. And so they were sent on a long, long journey. Out of the garden, out of their home.

But beautiful- because the story didn’t end there. Beautiful because this same God made them a promise that He would come back and rescue them. That someday He would unite the family once again. He promised them His only Son.

And so when the Son came and threw up a tent in our neighborhood, everything changed. Nothing would ever be the same. God Himself had come. Now, instead of just knowing about Him, we could KNOW Him. We could know everything about Him in the most intimate way. He came and sat at our kitchen tables, laughing and sharing stories. We saw Him weep, we saw His heart break for the lost and those who rejected Him, we saw Him angered at the religious who refused to recognize their need for Him, we saw Him pick up the whore from the dust and restore her dignity, we saw Him forgive the sins of the greatest debtors, we saw His incredible patience with the disciples, we saw Him touch the untouchables, we saw Him laugh and play with children, we saw Him pick up the Cross and make the final steps this reconciliation would require. We saw Him make the final choice to give up His spirit and pay in full for the sins of the whole world.

We saw the final hammer fall on the judges table, “It is finished.” The lost children who had been wandering for so long-now, they could come Home. No longer “insiders” and “outsiders” to the faith- but because of the Cross “to all who receive Him, who believe in His name, He gives the right to become the children of God.”

Becoming a visitor in a community not my own is such a reminder to me of the Home to come. When the family will be united once again. All things healed, whole, complete. Forever. And if we really understand grace, and if we really grasp the Cross and the gospel- than all of this will move us to make a decision.

Do we have a relationship with Jesus Christ? Have we truly gone to the Cross and repented of our sin and trusted in Christ alone as the only One who saves? Have we been reconciled to the God of the Universe? And if we have- then what are we doing to make sure the rest of the world knows about this incredible Story?

We should want so badly for all we know to be a part of that celebration. It should change everything about our lives. There are a lot of people I want celebrating with the family when He ends this whole thing. And so I’m going to pray my guts out for them, do all I can to herald the gospel wherever He places me, and trust that Jesus is going to come do some incredible acts of salvation all over the world.

May we be so reminded that this world is not our home, and the Day is coming very soon when He will reunite the family forever.

Sweet Jesus, may You come soon.