Had my life gone a little bit differently, I could see myself as having been a nomad. Plenty of people today follow such a path, especially after retirement, tooling around the country in an RV or a houseboat, setting up semi-permanent camp for days or weeks before moving on. A lot of us know the old gospel song that says, “This world is not my home. I’m just a-passing through.”
Homelessness is a serious issue, and I’m not suggesting otherwise. But the nomads I’m describing aren’t homeless. They have chosen to live on the move. They put down portable roots. Although I’ve never been part of that community, I know folks who have been, and though they move around, they truly belong to a community, often maintaining connections over thousands of miles and not infrequently visiting with old friends in new campgrounds and wildernesses and Walmart parking lots.
We are that kind of spiritual nomad. Though we are just a-passing through, we have a home. The shade of the Almighty puts us right at home wherever our campfire might be.
Living in the Most High’s shelter,
camping in the Almighty’s shade,
I say to the Lord, “You are my refuge, my stronghold!
You are my God—the one I trust!” (Psalm 91:1-2, CEB)
May you be at home on your journey.
Peace.