Back around 1972 I read The Revenge of Heaven, by Ken Ling. China had undergone The Great Struggle and the author's girl friend had died in a battle. He was in his teens as he described the day she was buried.
He described the day as dark and gray, yet his lover's coffin stood out with its bright red color. "It was set apart from the drabness and grief. "That is why it was so incompatible with the world," he wrote.
I remember the thrill of these words. Against the odds he cut through to a higher reality. Later he swam to safety and escaped this horrible scene of death and oppression.
His words touched me. Our lives, if lived aright, are incompatible with the world.
I honestly never felt at home in the world. I was detached and estranged. Not as some unworldly saint, but as one who knew "this wasn't it". Awful how we need to have the stuffing beat out of us to make way for God's grace and truth.
It would be nice to say that I finally found my way and achieved a successful life. Nice, but not true. Throughout my life I felt like a "stranger in a strange land".
There is only one home for those like me--the fellowship of those, almost all long dead, in the Word. I can say when I look at the amazing variety of people God has used to enlighten us, that I am not a stranger in their land.