“These all died in faith… and confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth.” — Hebrews 11:13
There are moments in life when a person looks around and quietly says, “This is foreign land.”
The language is different. The food is different. The weather is different. The customs are unfamiliar. Even ordinary things—how people greet one another, how they queue, how they drive, how they worship, how they conduct business—can remind you that you are not where you came from.
For some, the experience of foreignness begins at an airport, when the doors slide open and they step into a country they have never known.
For others, it begins much closer to home.
You can live in the same city where you were born and still feel like a stranger. You can sit in a crowded room and feel profoundly alone. You can speak the language perfectly and yet feel that nobody understands your heart.
And then there is another kind of foreignness—the kind the Bible teaches us to embrace.
The Christian, in a very real sense, is a foreigner in this world.
We Are Here, But We Are Not Finally Home
The writer of Hebrews makes a remarkable statement about the heroes of faith:
“All these people were still living by faith when they died… admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth.” — Hebrews 11:13
The passage goes further. These people were not merely acknowledging that they had lived in strange geographical circumstances. Their confession revealed something about their deepest identity. They were “looking for a country of their own” and ultimately longing for “a better country—a heavenly one” (Hebrews 11:14–16).
Abraham understood this.
God called him to leave his familiar surroundings and journey toward a land he had not yet seen. Hebrews tells us that “by faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going” (Hebrews 11:8). He lived in the promised land “like a stranger in a foreign country,” looking beyond what he could see toward “the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God” (Hebrews 11:9–10).
Abraham was in Canaan, but Canaan was not the end of his story. And that is a profound picture of the Christian life.
We may live in Nigeria, Britain, America, Canada, India, Brazil, South Africa, Germany, Australia, Japan, or anywhere else on God’s earth. We may have passports, houses, jobs, families, businesses and permanent addresses.
But Scripture reminds us that none of these things constitutes our ultimate home.
Paul puts it plainly: “Our citizenship is in heaven.” — Philippians 3:20
That does not mean Christians should despise earthly homes or countries. Quite the opposite. We are called to love our neighbours, serve our communities, pray for our nations and seek the welfare of the places where God has planted us (Jeremiah 29:7).
But we must never confuse where we live with where we belong ultimately.
The Pain of Being Foreign
There is, however, something important that Christians must not overlook.
Being a stranger can hurt.
Ask the international student who eats dinner alone in a university residence because the other students have returned home for the weekend.
Ask the immigrant who has learned to smile when someone repeatedly mispronounces their name.
Ask the refugee who has crossed borders carrying almost nothing but memories.
Ask the expatriate who celebrates Christmas thousands of kilometres away from parents, siblings and childhood friends.
Ask the missionary who discovers that even after years in another culture, there are still moments when he or she feels profoundly foreign.
Ask the elderly immigrant who has lived abroad for decades but still dreams in the language of childhood.
Foreignness can produce loneliness. It can make a person question identity.
Who am I here? Where do I belong? Who understands me?
These are not merely immigration questions. They are human questions. And Christianity offers a surprisingly beautiful answer.
Your deepest identity is not determined by geography. It is determined by God.
God Has Always Known What It Means to Welcome the Stranger
One of the striking themes running through Scripture is God’s concern for the foreigner, the stranger, the outsider and the displaced.
Israel was repeatedly reminded:
“Do not oppress a foreigner; you yourselves know how it feels to be foreigners, because you were foreigners in Egypt.” — Exodus 23:9
The command was not merely about humanitarian courtesy. Israel’s own history was supposed to shape its compassion.
They were strangers once. They had needed welcome once. They had needed protection once. They had needed God once. Therefore, they were to extend to others the mercy they themselves had received.
The same principle reaches its beautiful climax in the teaching of Jesus. In Matthew 25, Jesus identifies himself with the hungry, thirsty, stranger, naked, sick and imprisoned. And among his words are these:
“I was a stranger and you invited me in.” — Matthew 25:35
That should challenge the Church everywhere. The foreigner is not an inconvenience to be managed. The immigrant is not merely an economic statistic. The refugee is not simply a political problem. The international student is not just another enrolment number. The newcomer sitting quietly at the back of the church may be carrying a story of enormous courage, grief, sacrifice and faith.
The Christian response should begin not with suspicion but with hospitality.
The Church Should Become Home for the Homeless Heart
There is a special opportunity for the global Church here.
A church may be surrounded by people who have travelled from different nations but still fail to become a truly welcoming community.
Someone can enter a church building and still feel foreign. They may not understand the jokes. They may not know the songs. They may not understand the traditions. They may speak with an accent. They may worship differently. They may not know anyone and they may leave without anybody noticing.
But the Church is called to something better.
Peter describes believers as “foreigners and exiles” in the world (1 Peter 2:11). Yet those who are themselves strangers are called to become a people who offer belonging to others.
This is one of Christianity’s beautiful paradoxes: We are strangers in the world, but we should make room for strangers in the Church. We know what it means to need grace. Therefore, we should become gracious.
We know what it means to need welcome. Therefore, we should welcome. We know what it means to need someone to say, “You belong here.” Therefore, we should become people who say it.
Jesus Understands the Stranger
There is an even deeper reason Christians can empathise with displaced people.
Jesus himself entered human history as one who did not belong to the world in the way the world expected.
John says: “He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.” — John 1:11
The Son of God entered our world. He experienced rejection. He knew what it was to be misunderstood. He knew what it was to be without a conventional earthly home.
At one point Jesus said: “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” — Matthew 8:20
And eventually, Jesus himself became the object of rejection, crucifixion and apparent defeat.
The Christian therefore does not follow a Saviour who is unfamiliar with displacement. We follow One who entered our human condition completely. He knows what it means to be misunderstood. He knows what it means to be rejected. He knows what it means to stand alone.
And because of Christ, the Christian can say: I may be far from home, but I am never far from God.
When the Foreign Land Becomes a Mission Field
There is another way of looking at foreignness.
Perhaps the place where you feel most uncomfortable is the very place where God intends to use you.
Joseph was taken from his homeland into Egypt. Daniel was carried into Babylon. Esther found herself in a foreign political environment. Paul travelled across cultures and borders announcing the gospel.
The early Church itself became increasingly international as the gospel moved beyond Jerusalem into Samaria and eventually among the nations.
The book of Acts presents Christianity as a faith that crosses boundaries. Languages. Ethnicities. Social classes. National borders. Cultures. God’s mission has never been confined to one geography. Sometimes we pray, “Lord, why have You brought me here?”
And God may answer: “Because there are people here whom I want you to love.”
The foreign land may not only be the place where God is developing you. It may be the place where God intends to use you. Your accent may become an opportunity for conversation. Your cultural background may open a door. Your experience of migration may enable you to comfort another migrant. Your loneliness may teach you how to notice lonely people. Your unfamiliarity may make you more sensitive to those who are always on the margins.
What initially feels like displacement may become divine assignment.
A Different Kind of Homesickness
There is an interesting paradox in Christian spirituality. Sometimes homesickness can actually be a reminder of heaven. The longing for home can reveal something deeper: the human heart was made for perfect belonging.
Augustine of Hippo famously expressed it this way in Confessions: “You have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.”
That restless heart knows something is missing. We try to satisfy it with achievement, money, relationships, travel, possessions, recognition, national identity, comfort, even religious activity. Yet something remains.
C.S. Lewis wrote insightfully about this longing for a country beyond our present experience. He described such longings as like “the echo of a tune we have not heard” and “news from a country we have never yet visited.”
That is remarkably close to the biblical vision of Hebrews 11.
Perhaps some of the deepest longings of the human heart are not merely telling us that we need a better house, a better country or a better life. Perhaps they are telling us that we were made for God and for the world that is to come.
You Can Be Foreign and Still Be Faithful
There is another lesson worth remembering. Feeling foreign does not mean you have failed.
Abraham was a stranger. Joseph was displaced. Daniel lived in Babylon. Ruth crossed into a different land. The early Christians were scattered. The apostles crossed cultural boundaries. And throughout Christian history, missionaries, refugees, pilgrims and ordinary believers have carried their faith into unfamiliar places.
Sometimes we assume that if God is with us, everything should immediately feel familiar, but Scripture does not promise that. Sometimes God’s presence accompanies us into the unfamiliar.
The promise is not always, “I will make the place familiar.” Sometimes it is: “I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” — Matthew 28:20
That is enough.
How Then Should We Live in Foreign Land?
If we understand ourselves as God’s people living temporarily in a world that is not our ultimate home, several things should change.
First, we should live with humility.
We should remember that none of us owns the earth absolutely. Psalm 24:1 says, “The earth is the LORD’s, and everything in it.”
Second, we should live with holiness.
Peter’s call to Christians as “foreigners and exiles” is immediately connected with the way they live (1 Peter 2:11–12). Being different is not an excuse for arrogance; it is a summons to faithful living.
Third, we should live with compassion.
Because we know what it means to be strangers, we should notice strangers.
Fourth, we should live with courage.
The Christian does not need to surrender convictions simply because the surrounding culture is different.
Fifth, we should live with hope.
Our circumstances are not the final chapter.
Hebrews says that God’s people were longing for “a better country—a heavenly one” (Hebrews 11:16). And remarkably, Scripture says that because of this faith, “God is not ashamed to be called their God.”
Bible Gateway
What an extraordinary promise.
God is not ashamed of the pilgrim. God is not ashamed of the stranger. God is not ashamed of the believer who is still waiting. God is not ashamed of the person who has not yet arrived.
Perhaps You Are Exactly Where You Need to Be
If you are reading this from a country that does not feel like home, take heart.
Perhaps you left your country voluntarily. Perhaps circumstances forced you to leave. Perhaps you are studying abroad. Perhaps you are working in another nation. Perhaps you married someone from another culture. Perhaps you are a missionary. Perhaps you are a refugee. Perhaps you simply feel spiritually out of place in the culture around you.
Remember Abraham. Remember Joseph. Remember Daniel. Remember Ruth. Remember the saints described in Hebrews 11. And above all, remember Jesus.
You may be standing on foreign soil, but you are not outside God’s presence. You may not know the language of the place, but heaven knows your name. You may not know anyone in the city, but God knows exactly where you are. You may feel displaced, but you are not forgotten.
And perhaps the most important truth is this: This earth is not your final home. One day the journey will end. The homesickness will end. The cultural misunderstandings will end. The loneliness will end. The borders will no longer matter. The divisions of nationality and ethnicity will no longer have the power they possess now.
John’s vision in Revelation points us toward that glorious future: people from every nation, tribe, people and language gathered before the throne of God (Revelation 7:9).
That is the Christian’s ultimate homeland.
Not one nation against another. Not one culture above another. Not one language over another, but a redeemed people from every nation gathered around one King.
So if today you find yourself looking around and thinking, “This is foreign land,” perhaps there is another way to say it. Yes. This is foreign land, but I am not lost. I am a pilgrim. I am a stranger. I am a citizen of heaven. I am passing through and my Father is leading me home.
A Final Word for the Church
Perhaps the question is not only, “Where is my home?”
Perhaps it is also: “Whom can I make feel at home?”
Because Christians who know that this world is not their ultimate home should be among the safest people in the world for strangers to approach.
We have received grace; let us give grace. We have been welcomed; let us welcome. We have been forgiven; let us forgive. We have been strangers, let us make room for strangers.
And while we journey through this foreign land, may our lives point others toward the better country (the heavenly one), that God has prepared for those who trust in Him.
This is foreign land.
But heaven is home.
