Bertrand Russell, the devout atheistic thinker, is often remembered as one of the greatest minds of the twentieth century. In his autobiography Russell reflected on his own death, pointedly referring to that moment as the "night of nothingness." He notes,

There is darkness without, and when I die there will be darkness within. There is no splendor, no vastness anywhere; only triviality for a moment, and then nothing.(Bertrand Russell, Autobiography, vol. 2 [London: George Allen and Unwin, 1968] 159)

In dramatic contrast are the equally pointed words of another great mind that spoke centuries earlier. As the Apostle Paul looked with anticipation toward his own death, he explained, "To me, to live is Christ, to die is gain … I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far" (Philippians 1:21, 23).

Indeed, the distinction is striking! And yet, their words seem to express a common and underlying sense of alienation, though clearly interpreted in two different ways. For Russell, alienation is expressed through his grim vision of nothingness as he looks at the fleetingness of life and the finality of death.

The Apostle Paul, on the other hand, seems to give voice to a deep, abiding awareness of alienation that comes from sensing himself a stranger in this world, wholly anticipating another.

In fact, across cultures and throughout history this sense of alienation has been expressed by many and interpreted in a myriad of ways. For some a deep sense of isolation and estrangement becomes a thief of meaning and hope. Why am I here? Does my life hold any purpose? The lines of a popular music group give voice to such sentiments as the chorus resonates over and over: "You and I, we live and die. The world's still spinning round and we don't know why. We don't know why. Don't know why…" (Oasis, Champagne Supernova).

Still for others, it is a simple sense that we are not quite at home, an awareness of life as a journey toward something else, a longing to be reunited with something from which we now feel cut off. A walk through the woods, a glimpse of something beautiful, or a haunting melody can trigger a pang of longing, the awareness of something more.

As a Christian, I believe this sense of alienation and pining for more in this world points to the reality that we were made for another. The eloquent reasoning of C.S. Lewis furthers this thought. He writes: We want something else which can hardly be put into words – to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it … to become part of it…

At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendors we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumor that it will not always be so. Someday, God willing, we shall get in (C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory).

As many before us have observed, our sense of alienation is a herald of another world, a hint toward an ultimate destiny. And indeed, Christ's words resound in the deep corridors of longing: "I am going to prepare a place for you." (John 14:2) That is truly a compelling vision.