Monday, July 27, 2026From the news

No Lasting City

The plight of displaced Lebanese families searching satellite images for their homes reminds us of Christ's compassion and the promise of an eternal home with God that can never be destroyed.

When he saw the crowds, he was moved with pity for them, because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.

Matthew 9:36

For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the one that is to come.

Hebrews 13:14

For we know that if our earthly dwelling, a tent, should be destroyed, we have a building from God, a dwelling not made with hands, eternal in heaven.

2 Corinthians 5:1

My dear friends in Christ, let us take a moment to sit with a painful image from our world today. In Lebanon, families driven from their homes by the violence of war are paying for satellite photographs. They huddle around a screen, anxiously searching a grainy, distant picture to see if the place where they lived, laughed, and loved still stands. Can we imagine the knot in the stomach, the prayer on the lips, as they search for a familiar rooftop amidst the rubble? It is a new and digital form of a very ancient human sorrow: the sorrow of exile, of displacement, of not knowing if you have a home to return to.

Our hearts ache for them, and in that ache, we find the heart of God. The Lord does not look down upon his suffering children from a cold, remote distance like a satellite. Instead, he looks with the eyes of Jesus. As we read in the Gospel of Matthew, “When he saw the crowds, he was moved with pity for them, because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.” This is God’s gaze upon the people of Lebanon today—a gaze of profound pity, of solidarity, of a love that draws near to the abandoned and the troubled. Our Lord himself knew this homelessness; he was a refugee in Egypt as a child, and as a man, he had “nowhere to rest his head.” He understands, intimately, the pain of losing one’s place in the world.

The suffering of losing a home is real and deep. Our homes are sacred spaces, extensions of our families, sanctuaries of memory and peace. To see that threatened or destroyed is a true crucifixion of the heart. Yet, in the midst of this real pain, our faith offers not a simple answer, but a profound hope. The Letter to the Hebrews reminds us, “For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the one that is to come.”

This truth does not dismiss the tears of those who have lost their earthly city. Rather, it puts those tears into the loving hands of a God who promises something more. It tells us that the deepest longings of our heart for a permanent home, a place of perfect safety and love, are holy longings, and they will not go unfulfilled. Saint Paul gives us this incredible consolation: “For we know that if our earthly dwelling, a tent, should be destroyed, we have a building from God, a dwelling not made with hands, eternal in heaven.”

Our earthly homes are precious, but they are tents on a longer journey. The foundation of our lives is not brick and mortar, but Christ himself. He is the home that can never be bombed, the sanctuary that can never be taken from us. For our brothers and sisters in Lebanon, and for all who feel lost and displaced in this life, let us hold fast to this promise. God is with us in our wandering, and he is preparing for us a home where every tear will be wiped away, and we will no longer have to search for signs of hope from a distance, for we will be home, in his very presence.