I came to a conclusion that my definition of home has changed. At some point, I would say it's family. Or my HP team (where I used to work), where everyone is happy and motivated. Or CCF Eastwood, my home church. I also thought it was Jerusalem -- coz eventually, this will become my eternal home: the new Jerusalem, plus it is already where I live now. So what happened?
My first 5 months in Jerusalem had been very difficult. I missed my country, the people, the conveniences of a life in excessive abundance, the support system. It was a period of serious adjustment. I realized that the Philippines was very comfortable -- I knew the culture and the language, the way around practically everything, and I had everything that I wanted and needed. Being in a new country where I was stripped of what I had (especially the things mentioned above) was a major struggle. I was able to prove with my own life the most important principle of change management --- to keep some things unchanged so that the one receiving the change would not drown. So yeah, I almost drowned, but found help by the grace of God.
I visited the Philippines last January and met up with some friends and family. There is one startling thing that got me depressed: that I was a completely different person. The life that I had was no longer there. I didn't have the same space that I used to have. Even if it's still there, I would not be the best person for it. The things that I went through and was going through during that time were not something people understood, no matter how hard I tried. I believed I was a gifted communicator. But at that point, my words failed me.
One evening, I cried the most tears I've ever cried in 2015, when I felt like I mourned my death. It was a turning point of my life that I finally told the Lord -- "Lord, I give up. The life that I had is no longer mine. It is now a memory. It's not a place that I could go back to, and the only option that is available for me is to have a full and beautiful life in this season that I am in." After making that decision, words started to fill my heart. The next people that I met understood what I was trying to say. I realized that they didn't need to know about my struggles. All they needed to hear are what I learned, using the same language and cultural context that I grew up with.
Last week, I had an amazing time with my Hebrew teacher. She shared something very beautiful that really touched my heart -- that me going back to the Philippines is like I'm coming from war. My experiences created a distinct separation between me and the people from my country, that no matter how hard I try, and how hard they try, it's virtually impossible to communicate what demands to be spoken. However, the one who does it successfully, the one with the ability to bridge the gap, has the power to make a difference, and influence the recipient of the message to see things in a new light.
I just loved the way she said it. Indeed, I really came from (and still am in) war -- a different kind of war -- a spiritual one, that looks way different with the one that I had. The effects of that war also required me to think differently, and to prioritize similar things in a more radical way, that is suitable to my current environment. My mind was transformed from the mind of a mentoring leader who desires to make a difference, to a mind of a strategic soldier that requires utmost obedience to her Leader.
Given all these new context that I am seeing, I do not know if the Philippines will become my home again. Also, I cannot officially say that I have fully adjusted in Israel. However, the most profound thing that I have learned about having a home away from home, is that this beautiful Scripture is officially true for me:
My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. They are not of the world, even as I am not of it. Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world. For them I sanctify myself, that they too may be truly sanctified. (John 17:15-19)
I can stand in confidence that despite the changes in my environment, the Lord will protect me from the evil one. I can be sanctified by the truth. That I have a home that is not of this world, and I can hope that it will come, a home that may be in a near or distant future, but it's definitely there. My countrymen may think and feel sorry for me because it doesn't sound like a nice and beautiful life. But in my heart, I just have a new definition of home -- where there is shalom and quiet confidence that God is moving and present. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. There is love. And every separation is an opportunity to bridge the gap -- not for the purpose of vain contribution to society, but for love in its purest form.
So yeah, I don't miss home because I am home. But I am longing to show my family and friends in my country that I love them beyond measure.
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