Your True Citizenship

Read

Philippians 3:20 “But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Think

If you’ve ever traveled internationally, you know what it feels like to be in a place that’s not your home country. The food is different. The customs feel strange. The signs might be in another language. It’s fascinating—but also disorienting. And even if you’re enjoying the trip, there’s often a part of you that says, “I can’t wait to get home.”

That’s the picture Paul is painting in Philippians 3. He says, “Our citizenship is in heaven.” In other words, if you feel a little out of place here, that’s because you are. Earth isn’t home. You’re living abroad. And every follower of Jesus carries a passport stamped by heaven.

That would have landed powerfully for Paul’s original audience. Philippi was a Roman colony filled with people who were incredibly proud of their Roman citizenship, even though Rome was far away. They lived like citizens of another place—loyal to it, shaped by it, and representative of it.

Paul takes that pride and flips it upside down. He says, “You have an even greater identity—not Roman, not political, not cultural. You belong to heaven.” That’s where your truest allegiance lies. That’s what defines you. You may live here, but you represent there.

That shift in identity changes how you live your everyday life. You stop chasing the things everyone else chases. You stop clinging so tightly to stuff that won’t last. You begin to see your life through the lens of what matters most: eternity.

Citizenship isn’t just a label. It comes with rights and responsibilities. Think about how we act when we know we’re representing something bigger than ourselves. Athletes represent countries in the Olympics. Ambassadors represent nations across the world. Their identity affects their behavior. Their allegiance shapes their activity.

So what does heavenly citizenship look like on the ground?

It explains your dissatisfaction. You can have the job, the house, the relationship, the security—and still feel restless. That’s not because you’re broken. It’s because you were built for more. You were made for a home that doesn’t expire.

It pulls you toward purpose. Being a citizen of heaven doesn’t mean you ignore earth. It means you live as a representative of heaven on earth. You bring grace into your workplace. You carry peace into your home. You walk into your school, your neighborhood, your gym, your favorite coffee shop, as someone marked by a different kingdom.

It also fills you with anticipation. Paul says we “eagerly await a Savior.” That phrase is intense. It means leaning forward with expectation—like a bride waiting to see her groom, like a child watching out the window for their parent to come home. It’s not passive. It’s focused. Hopeful. Hungry.

That kind of anticipation shapes the way you endure hardship. It gives you a bigger perspective. When you know your true home is still ahead, it gives you the strength to hold on during the storms. When things fall apart, you don’t collapse—you remember that what’s broken now won’t be broken forever.

And that changes your pace. You start living with urgency, not anxiety. You prioritize what will last. You spend more time loving people and less time proving yourself. You live more freely because you know where home really is—and you know who’s coming for you.

When you forget your heavenly citizenship, it’s easy to get tangled up in the chaos of this world. It’s easy to live like earth is all there is. But when you remember your passport is stamped with heaven, you see everything differently.

And let’s be honest—it’s easy to forget. Bills, routines, stress, distractions. We don’t always feel like citizens of heaven. We feel more like citizens of Monday morning. That’s why we have to reset our perspective every day. To remember where we’re from, who we belong to, and what that means right now.

You are not just a person going through the motions. You’re an ambassador of the kingdom of God. You’re carrying heaven into the hallways and highways of your life. You’re representing your real home with every conversation, every decision, every act of love.

So today, when you feel like you don’t belong—when the world feels foreign, frustrating, or just flat—remember this: you’re not home yet. And that’s okay. You’re not supposed to be. But your home is coming. And until then, you get to live with purpose, with hope, and with identity that nothing in this world can take from you.

Apply

Carry your spiritual passport today. Not literally—but intentionally. Walk into each space as someone who belongs to another kingdom. Let your conversations, your patience, your priorities reflect your true citizenship. Maybe even write the word “heaven” where you’ll see it—a lock screen, a sticky note, a calendar reminder—as a simple cue to live with that awareness.

Pray

God, remind me today that I am a citizen of heaven. Help me to live like it—not just in the big moments, but in the small ones. Let my words, actions, and attitudes reflect your kingdom. Give me anticipation for what’s coming, and purpose for where I am. Thank you for giving me a true identity that doesn’t change with my circumstances. In Jesus’ name. Amen.