We may not be Israelites living in Babylon, but Jeremiah’s letter to the exiles still speaks to those who find themselves stuck in an undesired land. But Babylon, this place they longed to leave, was now home for seventy years (Jeremiah 29:10). Babylon was not a place to settle down and raise children. (Jeremiah 29:4–6)Īmong the world’s undesired places, Babylon would have sat near the top for a faithful Israelite. Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them plant gardens and eat their produce. And in one remarkable story, when God’s people longed to leave the place they were, and when some self-appointed “prophets” were saying “go,” God said “stay”: The Spirit carried Paul to Ephesus and then beyond, but the same Paul charged Timothy to “remain at Ephesus” (1 Timothy 1:3). Abraham may have gone to Canaan, but Isaac stayed there. Yet alongside these memorable goings are less memorable, but still crucial, stayings. In redemption, God spreads his kingdom as Abraham goes from Ur (Genesis 12:1–3), Israel from Egypt (Exodus 3:10–12), the apostles from Jerusalem (Matthew 28:18–20), Paul and Barnabas from Antioch (Acts 13:1–3).

In creation, God intended Adam and Eve to fill not just Eden but the whole earth (Genesis 1:27–28). The story of Scripture is, in some ways, a story of going. But for now, for today, you live in this place you want to leave. Maybe you will move back home, or get far from home, or start fresh somewhere else without memories. But for any of a thousand reasons, that life is gone now, and the ground is haunted by the ghosts of better days. These halls were once filled with laughter, and these sidewalks with the happy patter of children’s feet. Or maybe, most painful of all, the homes and trees and stores of your current place daily remind you of all you’ve lost. You’ve traced every crease and corner of these streets nothing seems left to discover. You feel bound by the narrow limits of a town you know too well. Or maybe you have been here all your life, but for some time now you’ve been itching for elsewhere.

You think of all the family and friends and familiar comforts back there, and you struggle to imagine how here could ever feel like home. Maybe you moved here for school or work (or your spouse’s school or work), but your heart still lives in the place you left. Perhaps, as you woke up this morning, you found yourself in a place you desperately want to leave.

Desiring God by John Piper