jesus

Belonging

Emma Patterson1 Comment

“There’s no place like home…”

Dorothy Gale was on to something when she uttered those words in the land of Oz. But what if there is no place that feels like home?

On a recent visit back to my first home, someone told me, “I’m not going to welcome you home… I know this isn’t your home anymore, but I’m so happy to see you.” I know these words were shared in kindness and with an understanding of my new situation, but I couldn’t help but feel grief. In that moment, I was forced to face my new reality – I am a stranger in the place I have always considered home.

Returning to life overseas, I no longer feel like a “fish out of water.” The unfamiliar sights, sounds, and smells that once overwhelmed me now feel commonplace. What once felt impossible to navigate has become familiar. No matter how at home I may feel, I’m always aware that I’m an outsider. One could say I am “comfortably different.” An alien in a foreign land.

Have you ever been in between shoe sizes?

(This may sound like a random question, but just bear with me for a moment)

I’ve spent most of my adult life with feet that are too big for one size and too small for the next. I constantly debate which problem is worse – suffocating my toes or slipping out of the heel. Nothing fits exactly right, so I decide which issue I would rather live with and do my best to make it work. Sometimes, as the shoe molds to the shape of my foot with each wear, the discomfort slips away like a distant memory.

This is what it feels like to live abroad – life between two homes.

A stranger in a homeland and a foreigner in a familiar place. Two homes, yet not fully fitting into either.

That tension — of living between places and identities — is not a new experience. When Peter wrote his letters to the persecuted church, he addressed the exiles or strangers scattered to the four winds. People displaced from their homes, not by choice but by persecution.

I may never fully comprehend the experiences of someone forced to flee their home, but I do understand the feeling of not belonging – most of us do. I think this is why Peter focuses so heavily on our identity. At some point, we will all grapple with belonging.

But there is a holiness in learning to live humbly in places that are not fully ours.

To receive hospitality instead of entitlement. To listen more than speak. To understand rather than assume. To seek peace rather than comfort. To find joy in the mundane. To love without expectation.

All of us – as Christ followers – are strangers in this land. Our faith was never meant to make us comfortable residents of earth but hopeful travelers moving toward a perfect kingdom.

In the midst of our discomfort, we must cling to the truth.

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his possession, so that you may proclaim the praises of the one who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.”  1 Peter 2: 9-10

Who we are is not defined by where we live or where we come from – our identity is defined by our Maker.

Our Savior.

Our Cornerstone.

When I feel out of place, I cling to David’s words, “The Lord watched over the foreigner…” (Psalm 146:9).

And he is still watching over us.

You Can’t Hurry…

Emma Patterson1 Comment

In an ever-changing world, there is something people from any century would recognize — waiting. Maybe we are waiting for a bus, waiting for a job, waiting for a phone call, or just waiting on the world to change 🎶.

Whatever it is, waiting is never easy.

Seasons of waiting are some of the most uncomfortable places to live. Right now, I am waiting on a visa. A simple document that says I am allowed to remain in the place I consider my (second) home. Without this document, my time here in Tanzania has an expiration date.

Waiting can stir up doubts, fears, and questions.

Growing up, my family took many road trips. But we weren’t the kind of road trip family that planned stops to see the world’s largest ball of yarn. Our goal was to get from point A to point B as quickly as possible. The fewer stops, the better the trip. But even on the fastest journeys, stopping was always necessary. Whether to fuel the car or fuel our bodies, we never made the trip from Texas to Indiana or Iowa without stopping. Rest stops were simply part of reaching our destination.

Rest stops serve an important purpose. They offer a little time to refuel, stretch, and gather yourself for the miles ahead. Without these breaks, the trip can start to feel overwhelming and tiring. Similarly, times of waiting are often moments where God gently invites us to pause, rest, and find renewal before moving forward on the path He has laid out for us.

Throughout Scripture, we see that seasons of waiting are common—and never wasted. Abraham waited for God’s promise of a son. David waited through years of danger and attacks on his life before he sat on his promised throne. Israel waited for the promised land and for the promised Messiah. Even Jesus waited for the right time to begin His ministry and for the appointed time when He would give His life for us. These stories show God’s sovereignty and how waiting shapes character and prepares His people.

While we wait, it’s important to remember that God is still moving—refining, preparing, and guiding us, even when we cannot see it. In the same way “You Can’t Hurry Love” 🎶, we can’t hurry God. Waiting then becomes an opportunity for our faith to deepen and strengthen. Like my mother would always sing, “Be patient, be patient, don’t be in such a hurry, for when you’re impatient, it only makes you worry, remember, remember, that God is patient too, and think of all the times that others had to wait on you! 🎶”

So, while I wait for my visa, I choose to say, God, I will wait, I will wait for You 🎶.

If this is where He has called me, I have no reason to fear.

“Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart be courageous. Wait for the LORD.”
Psalm 27:14

Laughing Through Life

Emma Patterson1 Comment

I joined a book club.

And it couldn’t have been a timelier decision. While my excitement about being back in Tanzania hasn’t waned, the fatigue of newness is setting in. I’ve returned to the same city, the same house, the same church, while balancing new routines, new schedules, new relationships, and new responsibilities. New is both exhilarating and exhausting.

It’s easy for me to focus on what’s exhausting, take things too seriously, and overlook the small things that bring me joy each day.

I’m sure you’re thinking, “But Emma, you are a PATTERSON… that means you love to laugh!” Which is true, but how do you laugh when you feel overwhelmed?

God has a great sense of humor… In my book club, the first book we’re reading is called “Yet We Still Laugh: Stories of Humor and Hope from Women Serving Around the World.” So far, I’ve read the introduction, and I’m already being reminded that joy can be found in any season or situation.

“[Laughter] is both a medicine and a ministry… we celebrate it. Not as a distraction from the hard, but as a beautiful companion to it.”

New is scary, but when we lean into the awkward and unknown, it can lead to beautiful lessons from the most patient teacher — God. In this season, He is stretching me in ways I didn’t expect — comforting me when I feel unsettled, gently convicting me when I need to grow, and whispering truth when fear tries to take over. I don’t always listen well, and I often rely on my own pitiful “strength”. The hardest part of change is admitting that I’m weak, that I can’t do it on my own.

Change is like learning a new skill for the first time. Right now, my nephew is learning to walk. He constantly stumbles over his little feet, but does he give up? Maybe for a moment, but soon he picks himself up and tries again.

“The joy found in ridiculous moments is just as sacred as the quiet ones.”

Learning new skills means giving ourselves permission to be imperfect. In doing so, we make grace-filled mistakes, discover skills we didn’t know we possessed, and, all the while, the Holy Spirit is shaping us into the image of Christ. 

There is a tenderness in the growth process – a recognition that the road traveled can be just as beautiful as the destination. As we grow in Christ, our confidence grows that we are following God’s call.

As I turn each new page, both in my book club and in my life, I’m beginning to trust that even in the chaos of change, something good and steady is taking shape within me.

So, when my car breaks down in my driveway, when my schedule for the next month changes for the twelfth time, when I stumble over my words as I try to learn another language… I choose to laugh. I choose to see the beauty in uncertainty – the thrill of possibility, the freshness of new beginnings, and the gentle reminder that I’m not doing any of this alone. 

Thank you for walking with me on this journey.

“But that’s not all! We gladly suffer, because we know that suffering helps us to endure. 4 And endurance builds character, which gives us a hope 5 that will never disappoint us. All of this happens because God has given us the Holy Spirit, who fills our hearts with his love.” Romans 5: 3-5