"These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth." (Hebrews 11:13, KJV)
What unseen difficulties line the long, dark mile of the untrodden way? And, oh, how our heart hesitates to venture on into the uncertainty of the unproven. The problem with pilgrims is that the tendency to settle increases with the need for some sense of security.
After a stout trek across a barren stretch we arrive at a place of repose along the way; a place replete with so much of heaven's firstfruits, that we feel perhaps we should make this spot our abiding place. But we seek a City, whose builder and maker is God, and this in not that City. We must press on.
"In short there's simply not a more convienient spot for happy-ever-aftering than here, in dear Old Camelot." So goes the musical, but that's really all it is -- a song in a play. And while it touches the sentimental chords of our earthbound frames, our spirits seek a higher heaven.
Our forefathers in the faith saw it from afar, and so pressed onward till the very day they died -- not yet having possessed it. How then can we who follow in their train, now pitch our tent and take our ease? And what, if the Lord should tarry, would become of those who followed our loitering example?
Beloved, we are strangers and pilgrims on this earth. Our home is yet somewhere else.