A few years ago I sat next to a university professor on a flight on my way to Portugal. She had a Ph.D in identifying a person’s country of origin (or the country in which they primarily lived) based upon the content and the accent of their conversation. An intriguing subject, for sure.
After carrying on a conversation for about an hour, she admitted that she was flustered by our conversation. Though we had hit on a variety of subjects, I was wondering if our academic conversation regarding the philosophy and the psychology of love may have offended her in some way. After all, we had talked about the gospel of Christ and His view of love, especially His unconditional love.
When I asked her about the cause of her being flustered, she said that I was one of just a handful of people whom she could not readily identify [using her professional skills and experience honed by years of research and travel] the country where I had grown up or in which I currently lived.
She began to list the topics and nuances of our conversation that we had shared. She pointed out aspects of my accent and how I enunciated certain words and phrases in certain ways. Her conclusion was that I did not have a country that I called “home” and that it was going to be near impossible to establish [based upon our conversation and my accent] who I was, where I was from, and when I had lived here or there.
- The content of my conversation revealed to her the Kingdom to which I belong, the Kingdom of God.
- The accent of my speech revealed to her the language of God’s Kingdom, the language of love… unconditional love.
As a Missionary’s Kid (MK) from almost day-one of my life, moving around from country to country, and from culture to culture, and from language to language, was considered normal. There is a joke among MK’s that goes something like this:
You know you are an MK if… someone asks you where home is, and you pause while you search your mind and heart for an answer… and you finally answer with something like, “Wherever Mom and Dad are!”
That day on the airplane the professor could not identify a geographically defined country as being my home, nor could she identify which of the world’s languages I lived among by the accent of my English.