Phil Wickham - Homesick For Heaven Lyrics
Lyrics
My heart belongs to a country and a King Of a land I’ve always known but I’ve never seen Some call it paradise or the land of the living I call it home And I’m homesick for heaven
I want to walk with Moses On streets of gold And dance with David before Your throne To thank You face to face for the grace You’ve given I want to see my children run to Your arms And worship the Savior who wears my scars There’s an ache in my heart I’m homesick Heaven
In my Father’s house there are many rooms Enough for everyone, enough for you I know it takes some faith But today you can know without question Believe in the power of Jesus’ name And you’re going to Heaven Hallelujah, in Jesus’ name We’re going to Heaven
No more fear, no more pain Every tear wiped away Crying Holy, Holy Every knee on the floor Every voice evermore Crying Holy, Holy Oh I want to go home Oh I want to go home
To see the ones I love Who’ve gone before Where death is a memory and tears are no more To hear the angels praise Can you even imagine I’ll run as fast as I can Into Your arms Cause I was created To be where You are There’s an ache in my heart I’m homesick for heaven
Video
Phil Wickham - Homesick For Heaven (Official Music Video)
Meaning & Inspiration
Phil Wickham’s latest offering leans heavily into the eschatological ache that defines the believer’s existence. We live in a state of suspended animation, tethered to a fallen earth while our spirits groan for a permanence we have not yet occupied.
The lyric, "worship the Savior / who wears my scars," demands a moment of sober contemplation. It is a striking image—the resurrected Christ carrying the physical marks of His crucifixion into the eternal state. In many modern songs, the focus remains exclusively on our restoration, our lack of tears, or the streets of gold. Yet, Wickham pauses to acknowledge that the identity of Heaven is inextricably linked to the mechanics of Propitiation. The wounds are not erased; they are glorified. They serve as the eternal evidence that our presence in that "land I’ve always known" was bought at a devastating cost. If we ever start viewing Heaven as merely a peaceful departure from our current struggles, we lose the gravity of the Gospel. We are not just going to a place; we are returning to the One who took our hell so we could inherit His Father's house.
Then there is the line, "I was created / to be where You are." This speaks directly to the Imago Dei and the primary function of the human creature. We often speak of salvation as a way to avoid judgment, which is true, but that is the baseline, not the summit. To be created to be where He is suggests an ontological necessity—we are fundamentally incomplete when displaced from the presence of God. This is the source of the "ache." It isn't a vague, romanticized nostalgia for a better world; it is the natural, restless state of a creature built for communion with its Creator.
When I sit with these lyrics, I am forced to confront the danger of getting too comfortable in the present. If this world were enough to satisfy us, we would have no need for the "Father’s house." But the promise of "many rooms" in John 14:2 is not just a promise of real estate; it is a promise of reconciliation.
I find myself lingering on the tension between the "land I’ve always known" and the fact that I have "never seen" it. It suggests a spiritual intuition—a remnant of Eden—that tells us we were made for something more durable than our current experience. Yet, it leaves me wondering: do we actually live as if we are homesick, or have we allowed the noise of the now to drown out that specific, sanctified sorrow?
There is a sturdy, dogmatic clarity here that is refreshing. Wickham refuses to shy away from the necessity of faith in the name of Jesus as the exclusive threshold to that home. He doesn't offer a universalist platitude; he anchors the hope in the Power of the Name. It is a reminder that our longing is valid only because it is directed toward the specific Person who bled for us. Without that connection, the "homesickness" is merely sentimentality. With it, it is a longing for the completion of a promise already set in motion.