We were talking with a family who are close friends of ours, and they are going through deep pain. Unfortunately, they may have to leave their home suddenly, in a painful way. In fact, they are being forced to leave the country they live in as foreigners, simply because of their faith, and not in a kind manner.

Imagine being thrown out in the middle of a school term, before the children even understand what’s happening. No crime, no immorality—just cast out for your faith.

I won’t share which country this is, but there is a striking sentence from our conversation that feels like a stone on my heart. I will share it in my own words:

• Our children said, “Do we really have to leave our home? I’m going to miss our home so much.”

That was the other side of the coin. A young child, already living as a foreigner, suddenly faces this truth:

The side of the truth they see is this:

“Strangers I don’t know, for reasons I don’t understand, are driving me away from my home.”

At that moment, I swallowed gently as I asked myself this question:

What is home?

For example, I’ve lived in the same neighborhood since I was born. I’ve witnessed the streets change one by one, the old beautiful apartment buildings being replaced by mass-produced ones, and the gardens where I played soccer as a child turning into parking lots.

The faces of some of the older brothers who played with us in our childhood now bear much deeper marks, and some of them are no longer among us.

Recently, I stood and gazed at one of those streets for a long time and asked myself the same question: Where is home?

I’ve always loved the place I live.

My first experience of moving was at the age of 19, when the house we rented was sold to someone else. I remember feeling great pain about being uprooted from my room—or more accurately, I felt as if I had been torn away from my home.

Looking back now, I realize that pain didn’t last long. Everything was fine once we settled into our new home because…

Our home had come with us.

That old apartment was just a few walls without us.

We were the home.

So, what is home?

What makes an apartment a home?

It’s the place where you are accepted, loved, or, if alone, the place you touch, shape, and give character to.

Even though I only moved a few streets away,

and even though I know this is different from being forced to move to another country…

Still, I think for those who love Jesus Christ, a turtle would be a very special example.

Imagine asking a turtle this question:

“Where is your home?”

“Since you call on a Father who judges each person’s work impartially, live out your time as foreigners here in reverent fear.” – 1 Peter 1:17