Rooted, Unrooted: Can I Settle in without Settling for the American Dream?

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Ever since college, really, I have struggled with the tension of being rooted versus being unrooted (not uprooted per se).

In college I was in a serious relationship, and when that relationship ended, I realized, looking back, that I was in it for all the wrong reasons. I wanted the perfect, idyllic life (as I saw it). I was studying to be a pastor, and I thought that after college I would get married, study in seminary, become a suburban pastor, settle down, and build a family: a cute, domestic American dream. Terminating my serious relationship obviously slowed down my dream. However, that experience actually awakened a latent desire for travel, and I ended up swinging the pendulum in the far other direction.

Immediately (like, a few weeks ) after I graduated in December 2009, I hopped on a plane and backpacked around Europe for three and a half months by myself. A few years later I headed to Scotland for a month of hiking and exploring. Later I traveled around South America (Ecuador and Peru), moved to Boston for a year, went on another trip to Europe (Scotland and Italy), and moved back to St. Louis (during that year I went on short trips to England and Toronto). Eventually I took a job teaching in El Salvador hoping to teach there for several years, but I fell in love and moved back to the U.S. (this time to the Kansas City area) to apply for a visa for my fiancee. We recently married, and I’m about to begin my second year teaching here.

You can see that my life the last few years has been pretty unrooted. And though I now have a steady job that I love, and my wife whom I love with me, I know that there will still be many trips overseas in our future (my in-laws live in El Salvador, and my sister-in-law lives in Germany), and I’m definitely not complaining about that. Now, however, I have begun imagining domesticity once again: the settled life.

Imagining a rooted life can take many forms: a house with more space to grow a family in the future (and space to actually sit on the patio with our morning coffee which is less tenable in a second floor apartment), a second car, fun little home amenities like a second TV or decent furniture, and the list goes on. I start seeing things through new lenses: “Oooh, that would look nice in our home!” Let me tell you, this is in stark contrast from my modus operandi the past few years.

Some of you might think, “Aww, that’s cute. Caleb’s finally growing up.” But am I? What kind of life squares away better with a Christian worldview? Is it better to live rooted or unrooted? The Bible seems to make a case for both, so I’ll share a few critical passages.

But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ… -Philippians 3:20

These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city. -Hebrews 11:13-16

Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul. -1 Peter 2:11

Heavenly citizenship. Strangers, exiles, sojourners seeking a heavenly country. This is an important description of New Testament believers. For many years I have justified my nomadic life with descriptions such as these, and there is obvious, biblical truth here. So is there any room to justify a more stable, domestic, rooted life? Look at what God says to His people living in exile.

“Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare….” -Jeremiah 29:4-7

We might not think of ourselves this way, but we are exiles. We are God’s chosen people (Gentiles grafted into the nation of Israel) living dispersed among the nations. However, a clear biblical strategy mandated to the scattered Jews that applies to us today is to become rooted into our local areas and seek the welfare of that place.

So, rooted or unrooted?

Both.

Trying to justify the type of nomadic, traveling life that is sexy today is fruitless from a biblical perspective. Inter-cultural experiences are amazing and should be sought after. Travel is a good thing. Living abroad is a good thing. But the Bible is clear that we are to seek community and fellowship, both with Christians and non-Christians. If the type of travel you envision is gallivanting around the globe endlessly (as a lifestyle versus a vacation) without ever rooting to one place, it’s hard to square that up with a kingdom mindset. Tuck in. Get to know your neighbors and your city. Serve your surroundings. In this way, domesticity is good!

Nevertheless, there is still a strong warning. Christians are, by definition, unrooted. This is not our home. America is not our home (nor is it a chosen, righteous nation). In both a figurative and literal sense, we are wanderers with eyes constantly on our true home, the kingdom come. Do not put your saving hope here (socio-political systems, education, wealth, etc.). We look ahead to the new heavens and the new earth and the new Jerusalem.

Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. -1 Corinthians 51-53

Saying Goodbye (and Understanding Home)

Home is one of the most powerful motifs I’ve ever found in literature or theology. 

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My dad, my mom, my girlfriend Elena, and I at San Martin, basically El Salvador’s version of Panera Bread Co.

In my senior’s English Literature class we’re reading Robinson Crusoe (I needed something in our textbook that would hold their attention amidst senioritis better than old poetry they couldn’t understand–remember, English isn’t their first language). At the beginning of the story the main character is being persuaded by his father not to set out on his adventure. Let your imagination wander a little bit, and it’s a rather tearful, dramatic account. Robinson Crusoe’s brother has already died on his own adventure, and his father withholds his blessing (and God’s) if his son insists stubbornly on his journey to the sea.

Now, my experience with my parents has never been like that. They’ve always been supportive of my adventures, the path of my life (and it’s taken quite a winding way). But it’s always so difficult to say goodbye. I said goodbye last July when I moved to El Salvador. I said goodbye after visiting them at Christmas. And I just said goodbye to them last Tuesday after they were in the country for a week. My parents are beautiful people, and we are very close. It was difficult to say goodbye. I love them dearly. So this is an important lesson to adventuring.

Always remember where you came from. There’s a worn-out statement packed with meaning. Nobody is so alone in life that they would not be missed if they left. Stay in touch. Send a postcard. Love the ones you leave behind. Visit. And when your journey’s over, it’s okay for your tired feet to find their way back home. Home is one of the most powerful motifs I’ve ever found in literature or theology.

A little bit out of context, but I’ve always loved the sense of this statement from G.K. Chesterton’s Orthodoxy:

“What could be more delightful than to have in the same few minutes all the fascinating terrors of going abroad combined with all the humane security of coming home again?”