The air is changing once again. It’s that “not-quite-Winter, but not-quite-Spring” atmosphere that seems to drum up something deep inside all of us. Suddenly, more children are biking in the streets. People are strolling in the parks, and the occasional green-thumb is preparing their garden for the coming season. It’s in this in-between period I find myself longing for home. That vast yearning of the heart and soul that says “This is where I belong.” The problem is, my heart can’t decide where that is.

There has always been this right-ness inside of me when I am in nature’s midst. I recall the first time I visited Colorado to see my dear friend, John. In that first visit and each time after, I would say to him, “I was born for the mountains.” There was something about the vast waves of stone topped with the timbers of the San Juan that resonated with me deeply. Likewise, when Jen and I honeymooned in the Arkansas Ozarks during Autumn’s peak, the serenity of the saturated hills and settling leaves left me feeling completely at peace. It felt right. Be that as it may, nature is not the only place that stirs my heart this way.

My wife, Jen, looking out at the sunset on the final night of our honeymoon.

As much as I like to think of myself as a Texas country boy, I am, at heart, a child of one of the largest cities in the United States. Though I didn’t grow up in Houston proper, the older I got, the more I came to appreciate metropolitan life. I adore historic city architecture. I love gazing at each spire of a skyline. Some of Jen’s and my favorite dates involve taking the train into downtown Fort Worth, simply wandering the streets, and admiring the variety of buildings. But more than the architecture, I am always in awe of the sheer diversity of people that make up a city—old and young, black and white, English and Spanish speakers, and countless other voices weaving together in a constant hum. Just as I feel at home in nature, I feel that same deep sense of belonging in the heart of the city.

Jen and I at the Soldiers and Sailors Monument in the heart of Indianapolis.

So, why does my heart feel equally at home in both nature and the city? Which one is right? I’ve come to believe that the answer is both. In fact, I think God intended it that way. I believe these deep seated yearnings are gentle reminders to all of us that this world is not our home. With “eternity in [our] hearts,” (Eccl. 3:11) these things point us to our future home with the Lord: Heaven.

The bookends of God’s Word gives us a two-sided image of a dwelling place untainted by sin. First, Heaven will be a return to the Garden, a place abundant with “every tree whose fruit contains seed” and “every green plant for food” (Gen. 1:29-30), and a place where “the river of the water of life, clear as crystal” will flow (Rev. 22:1). For believers, we have assurance that our Shepherd will one day lead us to “green pastures” and “quiet waters” (Ps. 23:2). The serenity and peace we experience in creation now are only a glimpse of the far greater beauty that awaits us in Heaven.

Second, Heaven will be the place where the City of God dwells. The diversity of any earthly city will pale in comparison to the “multitude from every nation, tribe, people, and language” gathered in God’s city (Rev. 7:9). Its walls will be made of “jasper, and the city [will be] pure gold clear as glass” (Rev. 21:18), making even the grandeur of Dubai seem like a collection of mud huts in contrast. The hum of this city will not be a cacophony of noise and chaos. Instead, it will be symphony of praise “saying, Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and strength be to our God forever and ever. Amen” (Rev. 7:12).

But it isn’t the breathtaking beauty or the vast multitude that makes Heaven truly special. At its heart, the greatest joy of Heaven is this: our Lord—our Savior, Redeemer, Friend, and King—will be there.

Revelation 22:3-5: The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will worship him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. Night will be no more; people will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, because the Lord God will give them light, and they will reign forever and ever.

So believer, if you’re like me, searching for that place that feels like home, let me encourage you: stop searching here. This world only declares God’s glory (Ps. 19:1); it is not our final dwelling place. Instead, look ahead with patient joy to what is coming—when, with the keys to Zion City, you will walk beside the King in His glory.

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Prudence: And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion?

Christian: Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the cross; and there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are in me an annoyance to me: there they say there is no death and there I shall dwell with such company as I like best. For, to tell you the truth, I love Him because I was by Him eased of my burden; and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where I shall die no more, and with the company that shall continually cry, Holy, holy, holy.”

Pilgrim’s Progress, by John Bunyan (1628-1688)