The Passport of the United States of America is in many ways, unremarkable.  Sure, it has all sorts of security attributes similar to the American financial currency in an effort to combat counterfeits, but in reality, its nothing more than three and a half by five inches in size, several blank pages, some inspirational and patriotic quotes, personal identifying information, a picture or two and a stiff cover.  It isn’t bullet proof.  It isn’t fireproof.  It isn’t even waterproof.  It won’t save your life in the event of a water landing or keep you from unwelcome calls about your vehicles’ extended warranty.  It truly is just a little blue book weighing no more than a few ounces. Yet in spite of its physical weight, the weight of privilege that book carries is beyond measure.

For those of us born in the US of A, we typically have very little interaction with our federal government. No matter how much we complain about their action or inaction, we take for granted the significance of being an American by birthright.  If any natural born citizen stays within the physical borders of the Land of the Free, there is no reason to need the little blue book of privilege, therefore there are likely millions of Americans who don’t even have one.  It is only when leaving the fruited plains and entering a foreign land where that book that can’t be of more significance and value.

Posted clearly on the first page of every US passport under the Great Seal of the United States are the following words:

“The Secretary of State of the United States of America hereby requests all whom it may concern to permit the citizen/national of the United States named herein to pass without delay or hindrance and in case of need to give all lawful aid and protection.”

The words themselves are just a string of letters and spaces.  The Great Seal itself is nothing more than some ink and artistry.  But what they represent is the full force, power, weight, significance, and dignity of our country.  That little blue book that fits in any pocket is backed by the entire worldwide reach and influence of the Red, White, and Blue.  

As I find myself now living in a foreign country as a guest of this host nation Thailand, I have spent more time dealing with immigration paperwork, procedures and officials in the past few months than I’ve ever spent in my previous 39 years in America.  I’ve stood in line.  I’ve waited for my number to be called.  All the while praying that my proverbial ducks are in their proper rows in order to be permitted to stay in the Kingdom of Thailand.  While the process has been stressful, maddeningly inefficient, chaotic, and at the same time boring, the truth is, I am still a citizen of the United States of America.  I have a home country in my pocket and not just any country, the country with the blue passport.

The Kingdom of Thailand has every right to rescind the privilege of residing in their country and as much of a bummer that would be, I could freely return to the USA.  Additionally, if I need emergency help while in the Kingdom, I can visit the consulate or embassy of The United States.  I am lawfully and rightfully granted access within the walls of the nearby consulate because of my little blue book where any other color book is turned away.   The consulate or embassy are just extensions of my home turf.  Walking into the consulate is stepping foot onto American soil.  The value and power of that book are tremendous, and every foreigner knows the importance of always having their passport accessible, as well as the potential ramifications of misplacing it.  That seemingly insignificant book is proof positive of who you are and which country you belong to.

Why is all this important?  Because having a country is something I take for granted, especially considering my country is the world’s preeminent superpower.  I have started reading the book of Nehemiah alongside the men I work with.  Within the first few sentences of the first chapter, Nehemiah is informed by his brother Hanani that their capital city of Jerusalem as been sacked.  The walls have been broken down. The city is on fire.  At hearing the news, Nehemiah wept for days.  For context, Nehemiah is in exile.  He is prisoner in a foreign land and has just learned his home country’s capital city ceases to exist.  Trying to not just read the printed words on the page but rather attempting to immerse myself into what Nehemiah was experiencing, I’ve tried to comprehend why he would mourn for days.  While I would be horrified if Washington DC was sacked, I’m not confident my emotional reaction would be on par with Nehemiah’s response upon learning Jerusalem’s fate. The closest memory I can conjure was the raw nerve exposure and vulnerable feeling I had watching the twin towers collapse on a Tuesday morning in September.  Everything I thought I knew about the safety and security of my home country was shattered watching the events unfold on the tv screen. 

Where my first-hand experience falls short is that as bad as 9/11 was and the overwhelming emotions that flooded me, I was still within the borders of our great nation.  We still had so many aspects of what makes America great available, even while the towers were in rubble and thousands took their last breaths.  But Nehemiah’s home country wasn’t the size of modern-day America.  Israel is roughly the size of New Jersey. Think if the USA was just the size of New Jersey and the towers were on the other side of the bay in Newark rather than Manhattan. With that in mind, now picture 9/11.  Imagine that feeling of exposure.  That is the context of Nehemiah.

Nehemiah was more or less a prisoner of war.  He was quite literally a prisoner in service of the government that forcibly removed him from his home country.  But there was hope that maybe his home was still home.  Hanani’s words shatter the little hope Nehemiah might have had.  In comparison, the privilege I feel having my passport is because I have a powerful country backing that small blue book in my pocket.  Nehemiah didn’t have passport, and even if he did, his country ceased to exist. Without my country, my book is no more than ink and paper, a reminder of former significance.  Without the USA being the beacon of freedom for the entire world, my security is no longer secure.  

Have you ever thought about the significance of having a country to call home?  I personally know people who don’t; they have absolutely no country to claim.  Every place on earth makes them at best illegal immigrants and at worse invaders.  They have no government to represent or aid them.  There is no social safety net.  No rights.  No protections.  Nothing.  My blue book carries much more significance than just boarding planes and enduring international flights.

In a few days, it will be my first-time celebrating the Fourth of July without a homefield advantage.  Independence Day takes on a new significance for me.  The circumstances are reminiscent of a tree and branches.  We now live out on the tip of a proverbial branch, far from the security of the mighty trunk, and ever mindful of the terrifying ease at which we can be cut off.  Trees can live without a few branches, but branches can’t live without the tree.  Makes me think of another pertinent analogy told about vines and branches.  Guess that will be a topic and post for another day.

In an effort to bring this thought train to station, enjoy your Independence Day.  Celebrate it with friends, family, BBQs, fireworks, apple pie, sidewalk chalk, parades, potato salad, car shows, flags, brownies and ice cream.  Keep the America I love going strong.  Look after your neighbor.  Kiss your spouse.  Love on your kids.  Laugh with friends.  Befriend a bald eagle and teach him to light bottle rockets just like George Washington. Belt out the Star-Spangled Banner at the top of your lungs.  Raise a flag. Kneel and say a prayer thanking God for the blessing of being an American.  Folks like me, who rely on that little blue book of privilege, count on people like you, ensuring that book never loses its power.