Finding Home in a Strange LandLondon is quite busy. That was one of the first things I noticed when I got off the train at Euston Station at 8:20am on my first day as a commuter. I didn’t so much wa

London is quite busy. That was one of the first things I noticed when I got off the train at Euston Station at 8:20am on my first day as a commuter. I didn’t so much walk to work as get swept along by a wave of people who, fortunately for me, were headed in the same direction as my new office.

I’d never thought of myself as a country bumpkin — I grew up in Kettering, which has a Nando’s (can you get more bohemian than Nando’s?). But during those first weeks as a London commuter, I felt like I’d just stepped out of a remote hamlet.

I wasn’t used to the volume of traffic along Euston Road. In those early days working for Age UK, I would stand at the pelican crossing, feet planted firmly, waiting for the little green man to appear and shepherd me safely across.

And don’t even get me started on the price of a pint. The first after-work drink nearly required a defibrillator.

When Life Feels Foreign

Perhaps you know that feeling — stepping into a situation where everything suddenly feels alien. It might not be commuting. It might be looking around at our political and social landscape and thinking: is this really where we are now?

Or it might be the unsettling feeling that comes with moving house, staring out of unfamiliar windows and asking, what have we done?

For those who are retired, maybe it was those first few weeks after leaving work — waking up without a routine and wondering what comes next.

For new parents, that first night home from hospital can feel overwhelming. For me, it was mostly panic.

Psalm 137 speaks powerfully into these moments — those times when we find ourselves far from our comfort zones, away from the familiar markers of who we are.

Singing in a Strange Land

You might know Psalm 137 from the 1970s Boney M hit:

“By the rivers of Babylon, where we sat down…”

It’s a catchy tune, but the psalm itself isn’t upbeat. It was written by Israelites taken into exile when the Babylonians invaded. Deported to Babylon, they became slaves. The psalm describes their grief as they sat by the rivers of Babylon, remembering home.

Their captors mockingly ask them to sing the songs of Jerusalem — but they respond, “How can we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?”

For Israel, Jerusalem wasn’t just a city — it was their spiritual home. The temple was the centre of their worship and identity. Exile wasn’t just geographical; it was disorienting to the core of who they were.

It’s not hard to see echoes of that feeling in our own lives.

Another Psalm for Exile

Psalm 37, written centuries earlier by David, offers a very different tone. It’s advice to someone younger who is angry and fearful in the face of injustice. The opening verses say:

“Do not fret because of those who are evil or be envious of those who do wrong; for like the grass they will soon wither, like green plants they will soon die away. Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.”

David’s message is simple but profound: Don’t waste your energy fretting over the actions of others — focus on how you live before God.

As a parent, I’ve said something similar to my children countless times: “You can’t control what your sibling does — you can only control how you respond.”

That’s exactly what David is saying. And it’s what the Israelites in Babylon needed to hear.

Holding Fast in Babylon

The Book of Daniel gives us a living example of this. Daniel, likely one of those exiles by the rivers of Babylon, refused to give up his faith. He wouldn’t stop praying to God, even when Babylonian law forbade it. It got him thrown to the lions and into a fiery furnace — but God protected him.

Babylon wasn’t where Daniel wanted to be. But he held fast to God, and God saw his perseverance.

And the same is true for us. God sees when we struggle, when we feel out of place, when life goes off-script. We may not be able to change our circumstances, but we can choose how we respond — with faith, with trust, with perseverance.

Baptism: God’s Answer to Exile

On Sunday we baptised Arthur. Psalm 137 speaks of exile — being far from home, surrounded by a world that doesn’t share your values. That can feel very real today. But baptism is God’s answer to exile. In baptism, Arthur was welcomed home — into God’s family, into the household of faith. Out in the world, life will sometimes feel strange, unsettling, even hostile. But here, in Christ’s church, he has a place where he belongs.

Now, let’s be honest: the church doesn’t always get it right. We’re not a perfect home — far from it. We can be messy, frustrating, even disappointing. But it’s still home, because it’s where God meets us. It’s where we hear his promises, remember who we are, and find companions for the journey.

On Sunday we prayed that Arthur will always know that however strange the world may feel, he has a home in Christ and in his people. And we promise to do our best to be that home for him — to point him to Jesus, and to remind him where he truly belongs.

Washed, Welcomed, Home

After a day commuting in London, I’d come home and feel like I needed a shower — to wash the city off me.

Baptism is God’s version of that. Not just rinsing off the day, but washing us clean, marking us as his own, and saying:

“You don’t belong to the grime and chaos around you — you belong to me.”

Arthur won’t remember Sunday. But it marked him with that truth: however bewildering the world may become, in Christ he is washed, welcomed — and home.