Summary: It's not easy to live in a country not your own, surrounded by languages you don't speak, customs you don't understand and value systems that don't quite align with your own. What's really irritating is that you have to pay twice as much for Captain Crunch than you would were you shopping in the States at Winn-Dixie. And yet mastering this sense of cultural unease, the apostle Peter would say, is precisely how exiles ought to live.
When you live abroad, you quickly learn that what's obvious to everyone else may not be obvious to you.
Consider, for example, these possible scenarios: An American in Germany who proudly displayed what he thought was a decorative vase in his bathroom ... only to learn it was actually a toilet brush holder -- and he'd been watering the decorative brush as though it was a bouquet of fresh flowers.
Or the teacher in Paris who tried to "live like a local" by buying a baguette each morning ... but nearly bankrupted the bakery by paying with a 50-euro note for bread that cost less than two euros.
Or the Canadian businessman in Tokyo who wanted to show respect with a polite bow ... and ended up in a slow-motion "bowing contest" with a senior executive until a secretary stepped in.
Or the Brit in Rome who asked for a penna (pen) but accidentally requested penne -- and got a plate of pasta which she didn't need and not the writing utensil which she did need.
Living in another culture means that you will misread the customs, miss the cues and sometimes look like a total fool -- despite your best of intentions. It's not easy to live in a country not your own, surrounded by languages you don't speak, customs you don't understand and value systems that don't quite align with your own. What's really irritating is that you have to pay twice as much for Captain Crunch than you would were you shopping in the States at Winn-Dixie. And yet managing this friction of being foreign, the apostle Peter would say, is precisely how exiles ought to live.
Some expats embrace their foreigner status with curiosity and humility. But others can never shake the feeling that they don't fit in. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, as we shall see. This nagging sense of their "alien-ness" renders them unable or unwilling to adjust and so, if they are American, for example, they may insulate themselves inside little bubbles of American familiarity -- English-speaking restaurants, satellite TV, social clubs and gated communities.
Exiles don't retreat into comfort or insist on control. They learn to dwell attentively in the tension between who they are and where they are, dealing with the unsettling sense of cultural dislocation with humility, vigilance and hope. They live, Peter writes, "as foreigners here in reverent fear."1
Here's the good news: We have a guide -- the risen Christ -- who not only understands our awkwardness in this foreign land, but has redeemed or "ransomed" us, so we can live here with purpose until the day we're truly home. The concept is fraught with heavy theological themes, but the essential idea is that God has given us all the necessary documents we need to travel throughout this mundane world, and all the skills to navigate linguistic and cultural difficulties and to do so with winsome grace and a cheerful heart.
First Peter was written for people who understood this feeling of exile -- people living out of sync with the dominant culture.2 They weren't tourists passing through; they were resident aliens marginalized for their faith, scattered across Asia Minor, clinging to a strange hope in a resurrected Messiah. Peter addresses Christians scattered across Asia Minor -- modern-day Turkey. Many of them were literal foreigners: Jews living outside Israel or Gentiles newly converted to a faith their neighbors didn't understand.
He opens by calling them "exiles of the dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia, who have been chosen and destined by God ...."3 The word exiles or strangers isn't just poetic -- it's a reminder of their status: Not fully at home in the culture around them. Not fully understood by neighbors. Living under the rule of Rome but belonging to the kingdom of God.
Ever feel like this? That you're uncomfortable in the culture, misunderstood and subject to authorities who seem to have no guardrails, making life difficult?
Peter gets it. So, he explains how his readers can actually live and thrive in this tension.
When you live in a foreign country, you adopt new customs. You learn not to hand over large bills for small purchases in Paris. You figure out the right way to bow in Tokyo. You memorize polite phrases in the local language. Not because you want to "fake it to make it," but because you respect the culture you're living in.
Peter says, in essence: Remember this and apply it to your real identity. You are living in God's world now. God's culture is the culture you honor. God's language is the dialect you speak. God's way is your way.
And that means some things will feel strange -- even awkward -- to the people around you, because, for example, you are a person who
Foreigners usually stand out -- and so should God's people. And they do it (we do it) "in fear," Peter says. That's not fear as in terror. It's rather a deep respect for the One who has called us to live in this earthly sphere. It means a holy attentiveness. It's not dread; it's more like devotional gravitas.
And Peter says it's to be practiced "during the time of your exile," evoking the imagery of the so-called Babylonian Captivity of the Jews in the fourth century BCE.4 Peter now reimagines the Exile as a spiritualized metaphor in which Christians live out their faith while living under the thumb of Nero rather than Nebuchadnezzar.5 Although Jeremiah counseled exiles to settle down, get married, find jobs,6 Daniel and his friends were not afraid to practice their faith in a manner that was out of sync with the dominant narrative. For example, if the world (read: culture, conventional thinking, the crowd, popular opinion) says:
Think again of being an expat. You're careful to learn the customs, not because you're afraid of being arrested (at least not usually), but because you respect the people and the place you've come to call home. In the same way, to live "in fear" means we live with the awareness that every choice we make reflects on the One whose kingdom we represent. It's a kind of holy mindfulness in which we are not concerned with getting away with anything, but rather with honoring the One who gave up his life for us. We're not necessarily trying to fit in, but to be faithful. We're actually mastering the art of not fitting in.
Talk to any expat and he or she will tell you that the expatriate life is never static! You're always learning, adjusting and frequently longing for home. This mirrors our experience as Christians in the world -- the "poor wayfaring stranger" of the well-known American folk and gospel song struggling to find a way over Jordan River, or, as in the pre-Abolitionist days, the Ohio River.7
There will be blood and trouble as we journey toward our true home. There will be missteps (like the penne-for-pen incident in Rome). There will be misunderstandings (like the bowing contest in Tokyo). There will be adjustments that take time. But the pilgrim has one asset that Peter says will surely assist us in this "in between" time of pushing toward the kingdom but not being there: hope. "Through him you have come to trust in God, ... so that your trust and hope are in God" (v. 21).
Living between here and home requires hope.
Speak the language of your true home. For the believer, that's prayer, Scripture and worship. We won't "sound" like the kingdom without practicing its language.
Mimic the customs of Jesus. Forgive quickly. Serve generously. Speak truth in love.
Stay connected to other expats. That's the church -- the fellowship of those who share your citizenship in heaven.
Keep your passport in sight. Remember where you're from so that you don't get lost in the culture around you.
Rely on your tour Guide. You are not navigating this foreign land alone. The Spirit walks with you, translating, guiding and giving you courage.
If you've ever been lost in a foreign city, you know the relief of having someone step in to guide you -- to point you in the right direction, to make sure you get home safely. Peter's message is that Jesus has done exactly that for us.
So, live as a foreigner here. Stand out. Don't worry about not fitting in. Rather, embrace it. Practice the customs of the kingdom. Let your life be a living translation of the gospel in a land that doesn't yet speak its language.
Because one day, you'll walk through the gates of your true homeland -- and the awkwardness will be over. You'll be home, fluent in the language of love, and welcomed by your heavenly Father.