I recently had to renew my passport. Waiting for two hours at the government office provided me ample time to ponder the process – and life.
People entered the lineups carrying everything from handfuls of loose papers, pristine plastic folders, small folded envelopes, tattered file folders, or manila envelopes such as mine. Regardless of the packaging, however, each person there gripped the precious information the government requires to prove who they are.
Who we are is such a deep concept. In the first section of my paperwork, I had to declare my name. This included my surname, my given names, and the surname from the family into which I was born. In Isaiah 43:1, we hear that God knows us each by name: “I have called you by name; you are mine.” Regardless of what the paper says, what the government knows, and regardless of the number of other people who may share any one of my names, God knows me individually – by my name.
Furthermore, the passport application required the surnames of each of my parents at their births. I was happy to provide the names of the households in which I shared many family dinners and vacations. I am so much more than my current name or the surnames listed on my passport could ever begin to encompass. I have qualities – and even heirlooms – from relatives whose generations and names do not seem that far away, but are too remote to be included on a legal document; yet, these people are still parts of me. I carry their DNA, and my life has been shaped by their stories of survival, immigration, the choices they made in marriage, and the places in which they lived.
This section of the passport reminded me that Jesus’ lineage is also of importance to us. Matthew 1:1–17 outlines the genealogy of Jesus, all the way from Abraham to Joseph, the husband of Mary his mother. In the final verse, we learn that, “Thus there were fourteen generations in all from Abraham to David, fourteen from David to the exile to Babylon, and fourteen from the exile to the Messiah” (Mt 1:17). I do not know my particular family history back fourteen generations, let alone three times that, but through Creation, I, too, am connected to people from the beginning of time. Moreover, I know that I am connected to Jesus through the Body of Christ.
Moving down the document, I recognize how blessed I am. I have the ability to list regular employment and a place of work. I likewise have trustworthy friends who could be listed as references because they “are not relatives” and have known me for “at least two years” (in fact, they have been significant parts of my life for several decades!). I also have an emergency contact: someone who could provide assistance if I ran into difficulty while travelling. Over and above the paperwork involved, each of these people, from my employer to my contacts, would notice my absence if disaster struck, and this provides comfort and reassurance.
One is not permitted to smile in a passport photo; therefore, my face on this image bears no sign of joy. I was pleased, however, to notice that the gold cross I wear around my neck was not cropped in this year’s picture. It is visible just below my collarbone, meaning that for the next ten years, I will present travel documentation with a hint of joy, and an even greater indication of my true identity as a Christian daughter of God.
Finally, the address on my passport has been the same for twenty-four years. This so-called fixed address brought to mind the temporary nature of this life. None of us is fixed to this world. We may travel throughout it, requiring earthly documentation to cross borders and airline gates, but the real documentation of who we are – of whose we are – is embedded within us.
Our ultimate travel destination is heaven, and only God truly knows the identity of the souls lying within our “envelopes.” Whether neat and tidy, or tattered and worn on the outside, God knows our names and our inside stories. He is the one and only emergency contact who will always know where we are, who will be there in times of difficulty, and who wants to welcome us through the eternal gates of “home.”
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