Pilgrims and Strangers

I’m being stalked by “Pilgrims and Strangers.”  Over many months of time I've sometimes caught sight of their shadowy figures, always hurrying off  before I've had a chance to accost them and ask them what it means to be a pilgrim and a stranger.  Pondering the matter in silence has had to suffice, for the most part.

At Mom’s funeral, Shane and four accompanying friends sang “I’m Just a Poor Wayfaring Stranger” as the first song, even before the moderator spoke.  “We’re all strangers,” Shane had said when he first proposed including that song at the funeral.

Mark N. used the phrase in his recent talk at the parent-teacher meeting, in speaking of the need to live life on a course running counter to popular culture–because we’re pilgrims and strangers.

Hebrews 11:1-16 was the Bible memory passage for January at school.  I’ve heard it recited a number of times as a result.  This is the signature New Testament “pilgrims and strangers” passage.

I encountered the pilgrim and stranger concept in Hiromi-and-my January readings in the book of Genesis–in the story of Abraham.  My awareness of how Abraham exemplified this was heightened by having spent the past number of weeks poring over the book of Hebrews–reading it over and over, copying various outlines I’ve found on the book, reading it in various versions, taking notes, etc.

I read Genesis against the background of what Hebrews says of Abraham and his faithful cohorts, Abel, Enoch, Noah, and Sarah--that they all obtained God’s approval.  By faith Abraham  obeyed in leaving his homeland to travel to an unknown country, dwelling in tents, looking for a city with firm foundations, built and made by God.   Abraham was persuaded of God’s promises, and embraced them, and confessed that he was a stranger and pilgrim on the earth, by it declaring plainly that he was in search of a better country.  God is not ashamed to be called the God of people who live by faith, who seek a heavenly country.

Last Sunday’s Sunday School lesson was Hebrews 11:11-22, which contains the exact phrase “pilgrims and strangers.”  In our class, someone asked “What does it mean today for us to be pilgrims and strangers?”

In our prayer together at home last night I prayed  aloud what has haunted me privately for a long time, “Lord, teach us what it means to be pilgrims and strangers.”

On one of those rare and perfect January days we had recently, sunny and calm, with the temperature between 60 and 70 degrees, I walked around the outside of the building at school and paused at the front entrance a moment before going back inside.  I had checked on some of the landscape plantings our students designed and installed, and noted especially the plants underneath the letters of our school name, Pilgrim Christian School.  I remembered wistfully how much nicer it looks there when the variegated-leaf wegelia is fully leafed  out and laden with pink tresses, and when the ornamental grass grows straight and tall beside the sign, helping to accent and frame it.  I looked carefully at the school-name sign itself and wondered if it could be removed and taken with us when our school moves.  It appears to be very securely fastened.  I soon realized that if the sign stayed after the school left, it would convey an inaccurate  message.  It would almost certainly have to be removed.  The plants could stay without such a problem.

The letters of “Pilgrim Christian School” were nicely made, apparently formed by bending slender square metal rods into very simple and attractive letter shapes.   There is no stiffness in the design–just enough departure from ball and stick form to give a touch of gracefulness and fluidity.  Spacers were welded onto the back of the letters to make them stand out away from the freshly-plowed-dirt-colored brick exterior wall they were fastened onto.  The white paint on the letters is not in perfect condition anymore after 30-some years, but they still stand out nicely from the dark background.  I wondered who crafted the letters of “Pilgrim Christian School.”  Those letters look like plodding pilgrim letters–utterly lacking in ostentation, strong and durable and easy to read by whoever has occasion to enter the church yard, but not emblazoned so boldly that they catch the eye of passers by.

The school name at the new location, in its previous iterations, always had an identifier in wide flat black glossy-painted letters mounted on the east-facing exterior wall to the north of the front entrance so as to be visible from the road.  Our simple and slender white “Pilgrim Christian School” letters would get lost on that wall and probably won’t be useful at the new site.  I’m not sure why that realization makes me cry.  A scrap-metal pile just seems like a sad destination for a “pilgrim,” even if it’s made of metal.

F. Y., the local lady who is at home briefly right now from her teaching job in China had a contribution in Sunday School, in answer to the question about how to make being pilgrims and strangers practical.  In essence she said that it makes a big difference if we remember that our real home is in heaven.  This understanding prompts people to live very differently than they would otherwise.  She sees it in her students, in many who have no hope of heaven.  They feel justified in doing everything possible to make their lives as comfortable as possible, acting greedy and stepping on others as necessary to get what they want.

I can only believe that those Chinese students have not been noticing the host of strangers and pilgrims who are journeying toward or have already arrived at their true home. They haven’t seen the Savior and the angels welcome those who live as strangers and pilgrims.  They can’t fathom that a place exists where they  don’t forever feel slightly off-balance in the place they  occupy, as strangers do, or feel restless because they  know they  must move on, as pilgrims do.

Those stalkers?  Witnesses, examples, admonitions,  and reminders actually.   I must do as they teach me: be persuaded of God’s promises, embrace those promises, confess that I too am a stranger and pilgrim on the earth.  By this I can declare plainly that I seek a better country beyond this life.

“Poor Wayfaring stranger” and  “Plodding Pilgrim.”  Obtaining God’s approval and receiving God’s promises makes these humble identities worth coveting and pursuing.