Several years ago, I went to Tanzania on a mission trip. I went to teach African pastors how to study the Bible better. And I obviously experienced a lot of differences between that culture and my own. I was an alien, a stranger to that culture. Everyone spoke Swahili, the climate was different, the food was unusual, and I was usually the only white-skinned person (except for my teammates) for miles. And I experienced a lot of discomfort and difficulty. I was out of my routine and didn’t have my normal conveniences. I was away from my family. I couldn’t communicate. I never felt comfortable. But, you see, I was not supposed to. The whole point of my trip was not for me to be comfortable, but to serve. I was there to serve and help those dear pastors—men who were doing so much for the Kingdom with so little. I was not there for my benefit, but for theirs. I had no expectations for comfort. I was there for them. I knew that my comforts would come later, when I got back home. I was an alien.

The Bible says that we as believers in Christ are aliens and strangers to this world (1 Peter 1:1). And there is a particular benefit to being an alien. To live as an alien should enable you to serve others well. To serve others and to love them well mean that you put their needs before your own. And only an alien can do this because he isn’t expecting his current situation to meet his needs. An alien doesn’t expect to be completely comfortable. He doesn’t expect the comforts of home. Why? Because he’s not home, and the comforts of home, by definition, only come from . . . home. As aliens to this world, we can meet the needs of others now because our needs will be met when we get home.

When I was in Tanzania, I’ll assure you that I would never have been able to serve those pastors if I had been concerned about providing for my own comfort. Number one, I wouldn’t have had time to serve them. I would have been too busy tending to myself. But number two, I wouldn’t have had the ability or the resources. I would have been completely frustrated trying to provide myself the comforts of home when I wasn’t home. If my happiness and comfort had been built on things like having ice or air conditioning or uninterrupted electricity (things that are hard to come by), I would have been continually frustrated and would not have been able to serve them.

It’s like this. When Kim becomes the vehicle I look to make my life happy, then I cease to look for ways to serve her and I demand that she serve me. I am demanding that this alien world make me feel like I’m home. When we are chiefly concerned with ourselves and our own comforts, then we will have a difficult time serving others. When we are focused on our own needs—our need for respect or love or approval (things that are not bad, just not promised)—then we will be too pre-occupied to serve others. When we are trying to get our joy and satisfaction and approval and fulfillment from others (and not from God), then we are trying to get the comforts of home from a place that is not our home.

Jesus came not to be served by us, but to serve us by dying in our place (Mark 10:45), and he is our example. We are here to serve others. We are not here to be comfortable. That will come later, when we get home.