D ecember 1st is a national holiday in Romania, and this year, my kids proudly wore their traditional Romanian clothing. They sang patriotic songs and recited poems about Romania at the Cultural Palace here in our city. As I watched them all dressed up, I couldn’t help but ask, “Do you feel Romanian?” They paused for a moment, their minds racing. How could they answer such a complicated question in just a few sentences? I imagine their thoughts:
“I was born here, so yes, I do.”
“No, my passports are Brazilian and Canadian, so no.”
“People still see me as different here. They call me a foreigner, so I guess not completely.”
“Of course I feel Romanian! I’ve lived here my whole life, and this is what I know!”
It makes me chuckle to think that I never imagined my children would grow up with three cultural identities, speaking three languages. They hold Canadian and Brazilian passports—countries they’ve visited but never lived in. Yet, they don’t have a Romanian passport—the country where they were born, raised, and learned to read and write.
I also laugh when we visit our home countries and see how culturally different and unfamiliar things are to them. Yet, when they’re with their grandparents and cousins, they feel completely at home.
It’s a beautiful life we have, full of contrast yet so rich with opportunities and learning. My children have been blessed to experience three unique cultures, drawing from each one what they see as beautiful, different, or even things they might not prefer.
Of course, with these blessings come moments of longing—feeling torn between the countries that have shaped them, and the sense of homesickness that inevitably comes with living across the world. But in those moments, I’m reminded that our true identity isn’t tied to any one nation or passport. We are not citizens of this world; our citizenship is in heaven. We are united in Christ, regardless of where we live, and this spiritual bond connects us as brothers and sisters across the globe. We can be at home in many places.
In this season of Advent, I find myself reflecting on our own longing—especially the longing for what we know to be good, peaceful, and familiar. For me, it’s a longing for home—the warmth and complete belonging of family. But I know that this longing runs deeper than just for a person or a place—it is, at its core, a spiritual longing. A longing for the fullness of God’s presence, a longing that will only be truly satisfied in eternity, when everything will be made right, and all things will be good and perfect in God’s sight.
And so, with this thought, we welcome the Christ child into our homes and into our hearts, knowing that he is the ultimate fulfillment of all our deepest longings—until he returns again, to make all things new.
Come, Thou long expected Jesus
Born to set Thy people free;
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel’s strength and consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art;
Dear desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart.
Felipe and Janelle Silva
Felipe and Janelle work with Roma youth, and the larger community, in the Jiu Valley (Romania) to build trust, perseverance, character, and courage through rock climbing and an education program. They have also planted Anchor Church. Learn more about their ministry here.
