Citizens of Heaven...re-posted from a few years ago, but timely.

This is not our home. We are citizens of heaven...how often do we consider this? We are not from here, so in one respect, that could mean that we are out of place, even disadvantaged, and there may be an element of that. However, the place of our citizenship is the place to which this world owes its existence and by which it is ultimately ruled.

We are not just tourists from some insignificant foreign state. We are visiting dignitaries from the power of powers, ambassadors for the Ultimate Sovereign. Therefore, our citizenship in heaven should not be held with vague sentimentalism, as weary travelers longing for home, or worse, with tortured cries, as prisoners longing for freedom.

Rather, we should see this world and its flawed and broken systems as a daughter nation under oppressive enemy control, and ourselves as its governors, sent to put things back under the reign of our infinitely benevolent King. We are from a higher place, literally sent from heaven, not for a test, as to whether we will survive this life, but for God's purpose and pleasure, that we might reflect Him and bring about, in our spheres of influence, His kingdom, on earth as it is...at home.

Morning

(I only sometimes feel this way...) Morning is a violent invasion The alarm, the light, the incessant screaming of the clock Like the sudden squadrons of an unforeseen assault, their Generals unfeeling, Mercilessly pound and pierce my mind. Day is a cruel imprisonment Each successive appointment a new form of torture, Until, sometimes quickly, other days slowly, and much more painfully, I acquiesce, And an all too fleeting truce Of tasks and places and people and words Affords me some of what I feel I should have expected, even love and joy, And I slowly let down my guard again. And find myself at peace, Until, amid the whispers of another world, Free from the dread of any cruelty, any bondage, I breathe away the day and blink, To wait for morning.