PECULIAR, SET-APART, FOREIGNER
“Did you know you could tie your shoes before Daniel?” my Aunt Terri inquired, her voice tinged with curiosity.
I shook my head, trying to picture it—our little chubby hands racing to make bunny loops. I imagined myself finishing with two perfect loops and cheering, while Daniel ended with a knot or maybe one loop and a kiss of encouragement to keep trying.
“You wouldn’t tie your shoes around him, though,” Aunt Terri laughed. “You were so young, but it was almost as if you didn’t want him to feel bad.”
“Hmm,” I muttered in response.
Our conversation ended, but the memory lingered for days. At 4 or 5 years old, maybe it was just about protecting his feelings—an innate sensitivity to the people and world around me. But now, at 27, that instinct has morphed into something deeper: a fear of being noticed, of being truly known.
Authenticity and uniqueness have never felt safe for me—not even as a child. They’ve been thorns—a source of pain, a reason to be bullied, a reason for someone to be unkind or unloving. After being hurt, we all make those “never again” promises to ourselves, don’t we? Our brains, in their effort to protect us, marry rejection to authenticity, fear to love, and acceptance to sacrifice. It wasn’t an issue for me until recently. Now, all the protecting and self-preserving has made me dull and ineffective in my walk with Christ.
I found, much to my disappointment, that authenticity, uniqueness, and courage are not optional in the Christian faith—they are requirements. To complete the specific race and assignment God has set before us, we must embrace exactly who He created us to be. Bearing the name of Christ means walking obediently and purposefully on the path He has prepared for us. It means refusing to bury the gifts and calling God placed within us under fear and stubbornness. Instead, it means choosing Him and His design, even when it feels impossible.
I wish I could say I consistently live in that space of obedience and boldness, but the truth is, I don’t know what that space fully feels like. I don’t know the version of myself who could inhabit it.
What I know is the tension of inconsistent surrender and the disappointment of placing my worth and acceptance in the hands of people. I know what it’s like to pretend, to mask, to be the version of myself that feels safest for everyone else.
But peculiar? Set apart? A foreigner? I don’t know what those feel like— at least not yet.
“LORD, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.” psalms 16:5-6
Recently, my Aunt Belinda called us sojourners during Bible study. “Temporary,” “Passing through,” “Sojourning home”—each phrase was spoken with a tender smile. Through the Zoom call, I could feel her brewing excitement to return to her first and true home. It was palpable, almost contagious. Until then, I hadn’t truly considered the meaning of sojourner. Her smile and the weight of recent life situations stirred something in me, urging me to reflect.
How does one live, knowing they’re not staying forever? Where do they place their hope when everything around them is promised to pass away? What do they ask for in a life that’s only temporary? Do they even ask for anything? And how much weight should they give to the words of people they’re just passing by? Are their bad days also good, knowing everything is purposed for their journey home?
I can’t say that God gave me a new answer, as much as he reminded me that He answered all these questions in His word already. Let’s consider the following scriptures as we deepen our commitment to being exactly who God created us to be.
1 Peter 1:17 [NIV] “Since you call on a Father who judges each person’s work impartially, live out your time as foreigners here in reverent fear.”
What attitudes has God outlined in scripture for us to embody on earth?
Reverent fear. The biblical definition of fear in this scripture means that which strikes terror; alarm or fright. Why does Peter urge us to live out our time in reverent fear? Because that fear is our divine alarm—waking us up, keeping us alert to the reality that we won’t be here forever. It reminds us that every action and inaction, every act of obedience or disobedience, carries weight—leading to either great reward or grave consequence.
Foreigners. The biblical definition is dwelling in a strange land. What does this mean? Earth is our strange land; it isn’t our true or final home. We are here a short time, and then we will be before our Holy Father and Righteous Judge. What would His response be to you today? Well-done or I never knew you?
1 Peter 2:9, 11 [AMP] “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a consecrated nation, a [special] people for God’s own possession, so that you may proclaim the excellencies [the wonderful deeds and virtues and perfections] of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light. Beloved, I urge you as aliens and strangers [in this world] to abstain from the sensual urges [those dishonorable desires] that wage war against the soul.”
What identity has God given us?
Chosen, royal, consecrated, special, and His. Royalty stands out. To be special and chosen implies distinction—a uniqueness that sets one apart. We are His chosen people, His possession, not for our own sake, but so that we may reveal Him to those who do not know Him and encourage those who do. Our identity reflects His glory.
When we choose to live in a counterfeit identity we reflect the world.
What is our identity in relation to the world?
Aliens and strangers. What is the behavior of an alien? A stranger? An alien doesn’t have to tell you that it is an alien. A stranger can be identified without uttering a word. Does the world know you as a stranger or a friend? An alien or a native?
As we continue on our journey to eternity, to our first and final home, let’s consistently examine ourselves against the identity God has designed for us.
1 Peter 2:4-5 [NIV] “As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him— you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house[c] to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.”
What is our identity as believers?
Rejected by humans. Jesus was the most hated and most rejected by man, and He was perfect. We are being sanctified to be like Christ each day. What does this mean? Human rejection is a guarantee in your walk with Christ.
Chosen by God. The biblical definition of chosen is picked out, select, by implication, favorite:—chosen, elect. God has picked us out. Through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we can be His elect.
Precious to God. God calls us highly valued, prized, dearly held in honor and consideration. We are reminded of this through the cross. We are so precious to God that He sacrificed His son for us. He gave up everything to redeem us.
Matthew 6:19-21 [NIV] “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
Where should we be storing our treasure as aliens and foreigners on earth?
In heaven. Where we store our treasure reveals where our hearts are.
It doesn’t mean we can’t be ambitious financially or seek ways to make a difference on our journey here. But for what cause? And for whose purpose? Whether your treasure is the approval of man, money, validation, or fame, where we have placed our hearts will be revealed before God.
Galatians 1:10 [NIV] “Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.”
What do we learn about servanthood?
You have to choose. It is impossible to align ourselves with the approval of man and be a servant of Christ. In each moment of our lives, we decide to choose God or ourselves. We choose an earthly way or divine way. There is no middle. There is no way to do both. To be a servant of Christ is to be fully submitted to His will and His way.
“They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them by the truth; Your word is truth.” JOHN 17:16 [NIV]
I’ve read these scriptures before, heard variations of them spoken in services, but only recently have they come alive in my life. It’s been about two months since we returned from Zambia, and when God first gave me this post to write, He brought my time there back to mind. He reminded me of the sweet woman with tightly pulled eyes and long, stretched nose inquiring of my homeland without hearing my voice. He reminded me of how I felt in the apartment we moved into—not quite settled, yet in no rush to leave. How I both enjoyed where I was and longed to be home, all at the same time. Even though some had hues much lighter or similar to mine, still, there was something peculiar—something foreign, set apart—about me.
At the time, I was in my flesh, utterly amazed at people’s ability to distinguish differences. What was it, really? The texture of my hair? The quickness of my step? Maybe it was the way people there waved with genuine smiles instead of their hands, or how I stared at babies carrying babies while everyone else found something else to marvel at. There were all these physical markers—clues people used to place me.
When I considered my spirituality I was curious where people thought I was from, who they thought I belonged to. Did people know me by my love and patience? Would people see kindness and long-suffering? Would people be made curious about who I serve by how I live?
It was like a light bulb moment, you know? To be set apart, strange and foreign, wasn’t a curse. It wasn’t this burden that made my journey back home complicated. Instead, they were little lights, like fireflies, that piqued the interest of others. A spark that can stir curiosity in the unbeliever and conviction in the believer. These birthmarks given to us when we are born again in Christ are evidence of our home and our father and brother.
After He showed me all of this, I was encouraged and terrified, and grieved. How much time have I wasted? How many rooms remained dark because I was too afraid? How much love, patience, and compassion have I hoarded? How many people have known less of God because of my disobedience?
I could have allowed all these questions to turn into condemnation or defeat, but God didn’t allow me to stay there. He reminded me of repentance, His restoration, and His sovereignty. Gently and firmly urging me not to let His words be a quick fire that burns out, but a steady flame that remains forever.
So, as you live the remainder of your life, live as a foreigner—one who knows this world is not their home. Live with the anticipation of standing before God, with the joy of knowing you have done exactly what He asked of you, as the person He created you to be.
We will not be like the servant who buried his talents (Matthew 25:14-30) or like the virgins who had no oil for their lamps when the bridegroom arrived (Matthew 25:1-13). But at the end of our journey, when the quality of our works is tested by fire, let us be the ones who built upon the only foundation that will last—Christ, and Him crucified.
