Philippians 3:17–21
King James Version
“For our conversation is in heaven; from whence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ:” — Philippians 3:20
New American Standard Bible 1995
“For our citizenship is in heaven, from which also we eagerly wait for a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ;” — Philippians 3:20
English Standard Version
“But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ,” — Philippians 3:20
King Charles. Prince Eadward. Lady Dora. Prince William. Mummy Chanel. Princess Muffin. Christian. XiaoBai. Lola. Tutu. Clone. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Nana. Marcus. Mary. Martha. Maggie. Gucci. Grace. Gracie. Archie. Angel. Hosea. Harry.
Last year, those were the first names I said every morning. I ran a cat café, and I woke before my alarm because they were waiting for me. They weren’t customers or a business plan. They were family. Thirty of them came to the door when they heard my key turn. The litter trays and the mopping never felt like chores, because every morning began with a roll call of the ones I love. Occasionally I do the chores. Haha.
Then the café ended. I carried them out one by one and left them at a foster home for several months. I still remember walking away with an empty carrier, saying their names quietly to myself on the way home. Nobody answered. I had never known silence to be so loud. The longing didn’t leave when they did. It sat with me at night and woke me in the morning, with nowhere to go.
Paul knew about places closing. He wrote Philippians from prison (1:13), the same chains that produced Ephesians, Colossians and Philemon. I think of my kids I work with at the café. Many of them know what it is to count weeks and wait for a door to open. Paul never pretended the cell was home. He lifted his eyes and said our citizenship is elsewhere, and the King is coming back for us.
That is not escapism. It is orientation. The same Paul who longed for heaven still wept for those living as enemies of the cross (3:18). His hope did not make him distant. It made him tender, and the waiting turned him outward.
I confess my longings are often smaller. I want a cat on my lap. I want a café that survives the month. I want a lease that doesn’t crush us. None of these is wrong, but none of them can carry the full weight of a heart. They were never meant to.
Today I have a home in Telok Blangah. Thirteen of them are back with me. The others have gone to new families through adoption, and I still say their names. I miss them, but I’m glad they are loved. I love these thirteen very much. I only get there at weekends, but I count down the days all week. When I open that door on a Friday night and call their names, they come. Every time, it undoes me a little.
If one weekend with my cats can carry me through a whole week, how much more can the day I see Jesus face to face? He will call me by name, and I will finally be home. He will transform our lowly bodies (v. 21). There will be no foster homes, no closed cafés, no cell doors and no tears.
To every Restarter still waiting: your present address is not your final one. Press on (v. 14). Home is coming.
Reflect: What do you long to see Jesus make right? What do you most anticipate about your future with Him?
Prayer
Lord Jesus, I have hung my heart on things that close. I’m grateful for every good gift, but I don’t want to mistake the gift for home. Fill me with hope as I wait for Your return. Make me tender towards those who are still far from You, the way Paul was. Turn my waiting into faithfulness until You call my name and I see You face to face. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria
“I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 3:14 (KJV)
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