I stepped off the plane four days ago. I am home. Coming back from the USA, my eyes see things differently here. The muddy roads littered with rubbish and overgrown grass. The oppressive heaviness of the humidity. The negative side of humanity, seemingly wanting me and seeing me for my dollars rather than who I am as a person. The children hawking fruit in the parking lot so their parents will let them come home. The frustration of waiting in long queues just to be told you need another document to get something done. A day’s work and nothing accomplished. The difficulty of getting laundry dried and simply keeping mud off your feet.  

On top of that, physical pain: heartburn, sciatica, body aches . . . the spiritual warfare so apparent. The enemy works more subtly in North America, but here it’s pretty obvious and very full on. It’s hitting me full in the face. Some homecomings have been joyful and life-giving, but this one is rough. Maybe it’s because the theme of transition is recurring now, as our family moves back and forth between cultures over the next years.  

What do I do with this? How do I transition between cultures? It’s more than simply remembering which side of the road to drive on (although that’s very important!). It is about finding the one constant through every transition, and that is Emmanuel: Christ with me. Christ in me. No matter where I go, no matter the high or the low, He is with me. 

He loves these people. He created the rain that sustains life. The beating sun makes things grow. These smiles reflect souls of a people that were made for His glory. More than two thousand years ago, Christ joined humanity in all of its muddle, His first moments spent in the scratchy straw of a manger, with the smells of animals and unwashed shepherds. That is the beauty, Christ with us in the midst of the mess... “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” 

Christ in you. Christ in me. What a treasure! He’s with me in this moment and in every transition in my future. He is with you. And the hope of glory isn’t wishful thinking, as in, “I hope it all turns out okay.” It is the absolute, unwavering assurance that one day this all turns around for His glory.  

And so, in this messy moment, with my eyes fixed on the future, I breathe in the humid air. I breathe out. I resolve in my heart to reflect the glory of God to those watching me, to those around me. I let the assurance of the glory of eternity both comfort me in this moment as well as compel me in the mission that God has given me, so that others may know Him too. 

It’s not about my comfort; it’s about His glory. Through every transition, through the mud, through the muddle, He is with me in the midst of it all.