Where Am I?

This is a question I ask myself from time to time, especially when I first open my eyes in the morning. At first glance, I have to take in my surroundings to figure out where in the world I am. I think I'm realizing for the first time in my life what it means to be a sojourner.

A few years ago while living in Europe, I remember coming out of a deep sleep one morning when I thought I heard a car coming up over the hill where my parents live. I envisioned I was in the bedroom loft at Dad and Mom's on a warm summer day. The window was open and a lone car was driving by on the country road. It was a car I heard, but it wasn't in Pennsylvania, it was passing by on a small town street in Bosnia. I was off by an entire continent!

It was 2:00 a.m. last Friday morning when I left for the airport in an Asian country. Dennis would stay behind a few more days, and then head on to another country before returning to the states. My flight was the first of four that would take me home. Almost twenty-four hours later I landed in Chicago. As I entered the passport control area, I saw two signs: "Visitors with connecting flights enter here" and "Visitors with non-connecting flights enter here." Same line for both, spelled out clearly so any foreign visitors wouldn't be without question as to where to go. In the midst of other weary travelers deciphering where to go, I darted in the line for visitors. I knew I had one more leg in the journey, which was a connecting flight to Indy. The "connecting flight" was what caught my attention, and furthered my reasoning to enter the line for visitors.

I wasn't standing in line very long when I realized that the people in front of me and behind me all had foreign accents, all the while I had my U.S. passport in hand. :) Just when I was taking another look back at the signs to make sure I read them right, the young fellow behind me politely said with a heavy accent, "If you're an American, you belong in those lines," as he pointed across the way to rows of U.S. citizens standing in line. I'm sure he thought I didn't fly much and just didn't know any better, but who wouldn't realize that they were in their own country of citizenship?! I chalked it up to frequent travels and missing a good night's sleep.

Ducking under several crowd-control-belt barriers a bit embarrassed that a foreigner had to tell me that I was in the wrong line, I made my way to the "U.S. Citizens Only" line. By this time, the lines had filled in and I ended up waiting a lot longer than I would have, had I entered to begin with when I arrived in passport control. It might be a good idea to check with myself when I'm entering my home country. 

It is good to have a place to belong, and it always feels good to be "home," but I'm beginning to understand more than ever Paul's encouragement to the Philippi believers: We are citizens of heaven, where the Lord Jesus Christ lives (Phil.3:20). Sometimes those first waking moments of wondering where I am, even happen in my own home after a stretch of travels. Two citizenships: I am a citizen of the U.S.A., but I'm also a citizen of heaven. Paul reminds me, too: I am seated with Christ in the heavenly realms, because I am one with him (Eph. 2:6).  

So no matter where I am at in the world, my heart is always at home. Someday there will be a new heaven and a new earth - a place where everything is right with God. No longer a sojourner then, for I'll be truly home. Until then, I'll keep wandering and wondering, Where Am I? 

Side note: Speaking of home . . . we are soon to have a permanent residence in Indy! A blog post coming in the near future.