We were standing in front of Buckingham Palace with crowds of tourists waiting for the changing of the guard. An American couple behind me was trying to decide just where they were. Their map was open as far as the packed crowd would allow. “I wonder,” said the man, “if this building behind us could happen to be Buckingham Palace.”

No authority myself, I knew at least that much. Asking to see their map, I busily showed them where they were and tried to point out a few more visible places of interest. So we missed seeing the Duchess of Kent being driven past. The crowd was too busy with the changing of the guard to notice her either.

A few seconds later, the queen herself was driven past, again unnoticed by the crowds preoccupied with the changing of the guard. It was our friend Ruth King, who misses nothing, who told us what we had missed while our noses were buried in guide maps and our eyes focused on the changing of the guard.

Tourists are a breed to themselves. They rush through a country, glancing at what they are supposed to see, often unsure of what they are viewing, and occasionally so preoccupied with the obvious that they miss what is really important.

Our next stop was Westminster Abbey. While my sister Rosa dashed madly through 900 years of English history, I sat on a concrete post outside to catch up on my journal. An American couple was walking by with their young son, who asked his parents, “Do you suppose this is the Wax Works?” I have heard of people having an identity crisis—but it is “location crisis” that is a not-uncommon problem among tourists.

On my trip around the world in 1980, which began with the pilgrimage to our old family home and birthplace in the People’s Republic of China, it was a common thing to wake up wondering, “Where am I?” Every few days we would find ourselves in a different room, a different city, and even a different country.

It was opening night of the World Missions Conference in Montreat. Daddy, who had just completed his year as moderator of the Southern Presbyterian Church, had been asked to open the conference with prayer. Before he did so, he said, “Before I pray I have a few words to say.… Now in this place there are two groups of people. There are those who know that they are saved and love the Lord Jesus Christ, and there are those here who as yet may not know Christ. My hope is that before you leave this place you will come to know him as your personal Lord and Savior. The Lord said, Behold, I stand at the door and knock; If any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him and he with me.”

That was all.

Early the next morning he was in the actual presence of the Lord he loved and served so faithfully and joyously.

Do you know where you are today? Have you been born into God’s family through faith in his Son our Savior? Or are you still outside?

Many of Paul’s epistles begin: “Paul to the brethren in Christ which are at [some city].” Someone has suggested that “in Christ” was their home address while “at Colosse” or some other city was their business address. Wherever we may travel in this world, we can be secure in knowing that our home address is “in Christ,” wherever our business address may be.

Where are you?

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