'But our citizenship is in Heaven, and from it we await a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ.'
- Philippians 3:20 ESV
I have two birth certificates. In the greater expat world, two is really not so many. It is just enough to create a bit of hassle when applying for things like university, nursing exams, driver’s licenses, etc. It’s enough to make me pause when people ask where I’m from, and where I belong.
My US birth certificate is a classic ‘Born Abroad’ Certificate. It states that I was not born on US soil but I was born to US parents therefore I was granted US citizenship. It also shows that for the first four months of my life I was purely Scottish. Nothing else. Maybe it would have been simpler if it had stayed that way, but that would have been very complicated for my parents.
So, I have both.
And because the parts of the US I frequently travel to are not well populated with Third Culture Kids, I am often trying to prove the legitimacy of my US Birth Certificate. In order to register for NCLEX, Nursing Licensing Exam, my birth certificate was required, and because it was unusual for Madison County, TN, additional questions were asked and more confirmation of my identity needed. I had to provide a copy of my UK birth certificate and extra copies of my US passport. Other people just handed in their neat, A4 papers that stated they were born on US soil. No questions asked.
Another such occasion was in a Mississippi DMV while changing the address on my driver’s license.
‘This is not a valid birth certificate’
‘It is. I promise’
‘Nooo, Ma’am. This is not a US birth certificate.’
‘I promise, it really is! It’s a birth abroad certificate…’ I gave up trying to explain and resorted to looking really pitiful and desperate (which wasn’t difficult because I was already verging on tears).
Paperwork has never been my strong suit. You can ask my high school guidance counsellor. I’ve just never been adept at filling out forms.
But, I did need to change the address on my US driver’s license. I researched and double checked everything. I showed up to the DMV early. I spent 45 minutes sitting in a metal chair, watching other families grapple with the same bureaucracy. I watched as they punched their needs into a ticket machine and it chocked out a ticket number. We all sat and waited in solidarity.
Then it was my turn and I needed to convince the DMV attendant that my strange, very long, very worn, Birth Abroad certificate was valid.
I stood there, sweating in the muggy Mississippi winter air. I wanted to get back to my in-law's. I wanted to get back to the venison sausage and cheese grits that were waiting.
The attendant went to the back and I stood at the counter trying to listen to her conversation with her superior. The small crowd sitting on metal folding chairs were watching closely. Their raised eyebrows and sideways glances screamed ‘She’s forgotten something, she doesn’t have the right paperwork. She should try again later.’
‘I do!’ I wanted to scream back. 'I’m allowed to be here.'
At last, the attendant returned with her supervisor. They both peered again at my certificate and then glanced down at a phone. I saw they were comparing it to an online image of ‘foreign American Birth Certificate.’ It matched enough for their approval. The supervisor handed me my documents and said ‘That was interesting, thank you. Go stand over there for your photo.’
A few bright flashes later and I was driving back to the breakfast feast. I thanked the Lord that when I die and show up in Heaven there are no forms I have to fill out for direct entry.
I’m reminded of this story each Christmas. Not just because I went to the DMV on Dec 29th, but because questions of birth, citizenship, and belonging naturally bring me back to the Christmas Story.
Christmas is commonly a busy time in ministry. There is, of course, the natural influx of church events such as parties, carol services, candlelight services and all of these are a lovely interlude in the church calendar where we can step outside of the normal rhythm of life and reflect on the season of Advent.
But, this time of year is also busy emotionally because Christmas brings with it a whole host of problems and pains. Family tensions, losses, disappointments, unmet expectations and dashed hopes come to a head during holiday months.
Christmas also breeds a time of reflection and introspection.
It makes us homesick. And as Christians, that homesickness is so rightly placed and will never be satisfied on this earth. We wait for the Lord to come. Our season of Advent won’t end until He returns, but it is in these final, dark months of the year that we draw our attention to His absence and His first coming.
We focus on the Virgin birth. And, in turn, we focus on our own souls and their rebirth. We reflect on being made citizens of Heaven and foreigners on Earth.
We are, in a sense, born abroad because we have been born again.
I'm grateful this season of Advent allows us to follow the sojourn family across their story of grief and goodbyes. In our world, we can often forget how foreign their family would have been. We dress the Holy Family up as if they belong in the stable, as if it was cosy and familiar and Mary pulled out the old Christmas manger and propped up her babe in the traditional swaddle she uses each year.
But it wasn’t home.
It was foreign.
They were living out of their traveling packs, they were checking on their belongings during breaks in their walk. They were rushing away in the dead of night to be expats in another land. Mary settled in a foreign country as a new mother. She didn’t have a mums and toddlers group to show her how to raise a child.
Then, they were returning to a home that might not remember them. They were returning to family who had never met their child. They were raising their Son, who did not belong, in a land they were alienated from years ago.
The Holy Family story is the sojourner story. It is this reality that I cling to when I feel at odds with my existence. When home is so far out of reach, I remember it does’t really exist on this Earth, and it never has.
As I light the advent candles, I reflect on my citizenship of heaven, on the truth that I am grafted into a Story written before time began.
As those advent candles flicker and dance and wax drips slowly down to the green garland, I remember the gentle and joyous coming of the King. I think on his light, reflected in each believers’ face and how, in one another, we see the reflection of Eternity.
Hold fast, fellow sojourner, in this world of darkness and travel and change and loss. This is not the end.
Hold fast.
His coming will return us all Home.