It is late at night, and I am sitting by the glow of a magneto camp light. After a long day of counseling and ministering, the familiar woody smell of the houthuis feels like much-needed R&R from the battle of the day—a battle that rages continuously in this strange world. Looking around this wooden cocoon, I am just so glad I can hide for a minute.
I see the old desk lamp my parents bought to encourage me to study harder at school. It didn’t work back then, but now it is serving as part of an eternal purpose—dankie pappa en mamma. There is another light from Temu; it looks great and is packed with unnecessary features, but mostly it just adds a little ambiance.
Tonight, that Temu ambiance glows with a slightly sinister edge, reminding me of the eerie space we find ourselves in today. Even here in the stillness, there is a lingering shadow—the reality of decay, the total absurdity of this broken world, and the heavy burdens we drag around every day.
Do you see what is happening around us? Do you see what is happening in our own souls? It feels like we are aliens behind enemy lines. And the enemy loves it when we live like tourists on a holiday visa.
These questions remind me of a quote I once read by C.S. Lewis:
“If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”
The reality is that this unquenchable ache is our spiritual DNA rejecting a temporal world. We are not meant to fit perfectly here. We are spiritual aliens, carrying the imprint of the Kingdom, currently stationed on a battlefield of ignorance.
The Truth of Our Alien Status
The writer of Hebrews understood this profound displacement. Speaking of the heroes of the faith in Hebrews 11, the writer says they admitted they were “foreigners and strangers on earth,” longing for a better, heavenly country. We were built for the perfect harmony of Eden, but right now, we are living in exile.
Our lives before Christ, the chaos of this world looked somewhat normal. It was just the way things were. But the moment we surrender our life to King Jesus, the veil is definitively torn. We stop adapting to the corrupt culture around us and, by simply existing in the Light, we become a disruption to this world.
If we assume that stepping into the Light guarantees an easy ride, the inevitable hardship will leave us feeling like we are failing. Yearning for a comfortable, touristy life only makes our eternal purpose insignificant before God.
But when the profound realization dawns that following Jesus is actually fiercely hard, it brings a strange, beautiful encouragement. The resistance you feel isn’t a sign that you are doing something wrong; it is proof that you are finally awake. You realize you are operating in occupied territory. John warns us plainly that “the whole world is under the control of the evil one” (1 John 5:19). When you change your citizenship to the Kingdom, the system of this world becomes immediately hostile to you. You are an alien combatant living behind enemy lines.
The Holy Homesickness
This geopolitical spiritual reality explains the heavy, exhausting friction we feel in our chests. When people sit across from me, overwhelmed by anxiety, depression, and a profound sense of isolation, my first instinct is no longer to try and “fix” them. I know Jesus already did the fixing. My first instinct is to validate their ache.
This pain isn’t always a sign of being defective. Often, it is a symptom of eternal longing. It is a holy homesickness.
It hurts because we are desperately trying to make a permanent home in a temporary hotel. We try to force our careers, our relationships, and our comforts to give us a peace that they were never designed to hold.
Even the earth itself feels it. Romans 8 tells us that all of creation is groaning, acting out in pain as it waits for King Jesus to return and restore order. We feel that exact same groan in our own souls.
The exhaustion of being a Christian, the pushback you feel from the world, and the sheer effort it takes to keep your heart soft in a hard place—none of this means God has abandoned you. It is the friction of your new allegiance. Wrestling is undeniable proof that you belong to another world.
Which brings us to a terrifying, profound question: Is your allegiance visible enough to this world for them to even see you as a threat to their reality?
Living as Ambassadors & Finding Refuge
So, how do we survive behind enemy lines without conforming to the enemy’s tactics? Paul tells us in Titus 2 that the grace of God teaches us to say “no” to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled lives while we wait for our blessed hope.
We survive by changing our posture. Holiness isn’t a rigid list of religious rules designed to make us miserable; it is a protective boundary. It keeps us safe from the toxic passions that wage war on our souls, reminding us to set our minds on things above because our true life is hidden with Christ.
This exact tension—learning how to live as an ambassador of the Kingdom while surviving the crossfire of this world—is the heartbeat behind the KleiTablette Counselling Ministry.
This ministry is not a clinical workshop designed to help you comfortably adjust to a sick, broken world. It is built to be a spiritual safe house. A bunker for wounded resistance fighters.
It is a compassionate, grounded space where weary aliens can come in from the front lines, drop their heavy packs, and tend to their battle wounds. It is a place to realize you aren’t crazy for finding this world so heavy, and a space to get equipped so we can shine together until the King returns.
We are not from here. But while we are here, we hold the line.
If you are called to help us keep the lights on in this spiritual safe house, partner with us financially so we can continue healing and equipping wounded resistance fighters to hold the line.
