Exile: Calling or Condition
In Peter’s first letter to the church, he calls the Christ-followers exiles two different times.
“Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ,
To those who are elect exiles of the Dispersion . . .” (1:1).
“Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles . . .” (2:11).
ex·ile(ĕg′zīl′, ĕk′sīl′) n.
1. The condition . . .
a. The condition or period of being forced to live away from one's native country or home, especially as a punishment.
b. The condition or period of self-imposed absence from one's country or home.
2. One who lives away from one's native country, whether because of expulsion or voluntary absence.
Exile is a more common word to describe the people of God by the Hebrew prophets during the time of dispersion. The only other reference to exiles in the New Testament is by the writer of the letter to the Hebrews, when he refers back to ancient peoples in wandering (Hebrews 11:13).
It is a term of movement; separation from what is familiar. It sounds threatening. But it goes along with other descriptors of Christ-followers in the early church – sojourners, pilgrims, strangers, and foreigners.
I am in exile.
Not forced according to the definition above. God initiated. He made it clear that Ingrid and I were to leave that which was comfortable and safe, and to set out in purposeful pilgrimage. It is not punishment, as God’s calling is invitation and not heavy handed.
And so I prefer a different designation. I am on exile, not in exile. It is not a state or condition. It is a missional decision or agreement with a God-calling. It is movement. It means constant disorientation while finding orientation.
I am on exile.
My situation is much different than the Hebrew exiles of old who were deported. My exile is much different than contemporary political and religious refugees.
My exile . . .
It cannot be aloof. It has to be engaged.
It cannot be without connection. It requires community (even if it is fluid community).
It cannot be other-worldly (ie. nouveau hippy-ism or Amish-ism). It is kingdom now though not yet.
Given the global world that we live in – exile may be the new norm. At least we have a better opportunity today to realize how our present locale is never really our home. Our identity labels are not real.
Today, the signs for me that I am on exile are more obvious than usual.
I type these thoughts on a street bistro in Beaugrenelle (15eme of Paris), France, where I enjoyedun petit dejeuner Norvegien(call out to Ingrid’s heritage).
It was not my first coffee of the day as I already had Starbucks back in the hotel (globalization in one of its least attractive manifestations).
As I look out on the street from this bistro, I realize that my bright blue Greenwich-like shirt does not match the dress of 75% of the locals – black is the dominant color. Most of the adults look miserable (especially the women) – they do not seem to be enjoying being on exile as I am. Maybe it is because they are in exile and not on exile. Only the kids and teens seem to be smiling. Maybe the condition of being in exile has not squeezed the life out of them yet.
Yesterday, I met with an international couple, she Asian heritage and he Euro-American heritage. This makes their children hyphenated-hyphenated in identity: Euro-Asian, American-French, Secularized-Christian exiles. Third culture kids. Isn’t that what it means to be on exile anyhow. Now I realize why my adult kids are so cool and settled and outward looking – and should I add blessed. They grew up on exile.
Last night I enjoyed hummus and lamb in an Iranian restaurant. I was the only one not speaking Persian in the place. I ordered in French. My waitress responded in franglais – she was more comfortable in English than French. I Facetimed with Ingrid who is in Chicago. English invaded the otherwise Persian ghetto on a French street.
Ingrid and I will meet in Guinea, West Africa in three days. The couscous will be the same as the Iranian restaurant but the sauce will be different. And fork will be optional – why would you use a utensil when God made you with one?
Sojourners. Strangers. Foreigners. Exiles.
As I look forward to being back in West Africa for the first time in 12 years, I am reminded of my favorite Bambara parable.
Jirikun menna ji la, cogo o cogo, a te ke bama ye de.
No matter how long a log rests in the river it will never become a crocodile.
So maybe our isms are all false. Maybe being comfortable with any of the this-world citizenships that we experience in the day-to-day are really hyphenated. We are all exiles. How can I learn to remain uncomfortable in the comfortable, and comfortable in the uncomfortable? How do I more proactively embrace my exile calling without being aloof?
I will be writing on the theme of being an exile over the next weeks and maybe months. I invite you on exile with me.
