Pilgrims, Resident Aliens, Voluntary Exiles, and Travelers

Jay Hallowell

One of the interesting spiritual ideals during the first 1000 years of Christianity was the peregrinatio or “voluntary exile”. Those particularly devoted to the Lord would voluntarily leave their own home and undertake dangerous journeys to various places. Some Celtic Christians, especially some from Ireland, practiced an extreme form of this. They would get into a small boat, without oars or rudder or any other way to steer the boat. They would take no food or water. After praying they would cast themselves off from shore trusting the Lord to use the wind and the ocean currents to take them wherever He wanted and to provide for all their needs. There are some amazing stories of how they survived, where they ended up, and how people where they ended up converted to Christianity as a result.1

I am not advocating setting sail into the South China Sea in a bangka. In fact, since the practice so quickly died out and was so rare, it is clear that not even a majority of committed believers at that time advocated the practice.

Yet the goals of voluntary exile are worth examination. The devotee “freely left his native land in order to release himself more completely from human ties and come closer to God in solitude. This voluntary exile was looked on as a battle in which the soldier of Christ went out to fight against the powers of darkness and to perfect himself through self-conquest.”2

Does your spiritual life help release you from inappropriate human ties? Are you drawing closer to God in solitude? Are you winning your battle against the powers of darkness? Where are you at in your journey toward perfection in the Lord?

I am learning that I need to have the attitude of a voluntary exile, that God’s kingdom and values are simply more important than my own nationality, cultural background, family or language. I am learning that I need to have the attitude of a pilgrim, not getting too comfortable where I am because where I am going is more important. I am learning that I need the attitude of a Resident Alien,3 never quite feeling at home on earth because my King and my citizenship are in heaven. I am learning to be a traveler, not yet at my destination or goal but pressing on toward God.

I have reached the midpoint in my adult life between my years as a single and as a married man. In just over 13 years as a single adult I lived in 20 different places. In May, 2002, my wife, Amor, and I settled into our 20th residence, the wonderful apartment BSOP has assigned to us. We have been married just a bit over 13 years. The main reasons for the moves, both as singles and married, are ministry opportunities and assignments. We do not have children, so we have been relatively easy people to assign to new places.

So, what have I learned from 40 moves? What lessons is the Lord trying to teach?

First, life is really a pilgrimage, a sojourn. Our real home is not here on earth. We own no home, no land. We would like to do so. It is not wrong to do so. But, in serving the Lord we have never had enough money or been in one place long enough to buy any property. And that is OK. In truth we can take nothing with us when we die.

God can be trusted. He has always taken care of our needs. While we own no home we have never been homeless. God has always provided a suitable place. In fact some places along the way have been real delights. All have met our needs and at least some of our wants.

We have learned to understand scripture better. We understand something about wandering in the wilderness or feeling the pain of exile. Jesus’ or Paul’s life make more sense to us.

We have learned that every time you move you learn more about your real priorities in life. Not everything one has can or should be moved. And, in every move, something will be lost, and something will be damaged. We have to learn to adjust and to mourn lost places, people, and things. We are trying to learn to be content with what God has provided. No, not just be content, but to rejoice in His provision.

Each move helps to keep us humble. We have to learn, even at the basic level of where to get safe drinking water and where to get food. It is like we are children again. We have to ask questions. We feel weak. We have to figure out how to fit in and yet be “salt and light” as God’s people. Each move makes us aware of how deeply we rely on God.

Each move reminds us of God’s sovereignty. Our weakness, our frustration, our adjustment is not a barrier to Him. He has used us over and over again, not because we are so good, but because He has chosen to work.

But, whether we have physically moved 100 times or not at all, all of us are pilgrims in our spiritual journeys. No one in the English speaking world has written of this more clearly than the Rev. John Bunyan, who in 1675 wrote Pilgrim’s Progress from a prison cell. No book in English has sold more copies except for the Bible. The book remains the classic example of allegorical literature. Rev. Bunyan, in the introduction to Pilgrim’s Progress, wrote “This book will make a traveler of thee.”

Whether we are aware of it or not, all of us are travelers, exiles, pilgrims, and resident aliens. The only question is: Are you moving toward God or away?

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1 Some of the stories are so amazing they are probably not true. But some probably are.

2 Webb, J.F., ed., Lives of the Saints, Hammondsworth, Penguin, 1965, p. 19.

3 In 1 Peter 1:1 Peter writes to the parepidemos, which Thayer's Greek Lexicon defines as “one who comes from a foreign country into a city or land to reside there by the side of the natives.” It strikes me that my legal status as an American missionary in the Philippines is exactly like that. I am a “Resident Alien”. I may live here, pay taxes, and have other privileges. But I do not have the rights that a citizen has or the same feeling of belonging as someone born and raised in the Philippines. Likewise the Resident Aliens to whom Peter writes are citizens of heaven but living in various provinces in what is now the nation of Turkey.