I always love the Fourth of July. For me, fireworks never get old. They’re kind of like chocolate chip cookies. No matter how often I experience them, they always make me smile. And, like everybody else, I like a good celebration. As a kid, the Fourth was a time to eat hotdogs and gather in our backyard after dark and watch the fireworks that were set off from our local ballpark ten minutes from our home. Today I look at the Fourth a bit differently.
I rejoice for my country even as I mourn for her. I feel deeply for America on her birthday. I guess I rejoice we’ve made this experiment in democratic government work for 249 years. I rejoice that we’ve always had the ability to course correct. Those brave 18th century gentlemen who fought our war of Revolution won independence but, when all the dust settled, found a new nation deeply in debt with farms and towns ruined and a diverse population which knew what form of government it didn’t want but wasn’t quite sure about the form it did want. Nevertheless, they rolled up their ragged sleeves and created a nation. Our ancestors formed an egalitarian government, established civil rights, abolished slavery (at a pretty high and bloody cost), built cities and infrastructure, created social safety nets, defeated fascism in Europe, and generously exported the produce of our God-given prosperity to people around the world.
And, of course, we’ve made a boatload of mistakes along the way. Some of them rather recently in my view.
I mourn when I consider wars we’ve engaged in which could and should have been avoided. I mourn for our veterans and pray they receive the care they deserve. I grieve to think of the vast and growing income inequality in our nation. I shake my uncomprehending head at the persistence of gun violence. I fret over our broken immigration system and our current epidemic of xenophobia. I sigh helplessly for those affected by climate disasters and I worry how we can continue to rebuild when floods, hurricanes, tornados and wildfires seem so relentless and so many in government seem so unconcerned about the causes of these tragedies.
But I really want to find reasons to celebrate.
When Jesus sent out his seventy-member advance team he sent them out on faith. They didn’t have a bankroll or a credit card. He knew—and they knew too—that the world was a dangerous place. They were sent out like lambs in the midst of wolves. Nevertheless, they went forward believing that God was with them. They went ahead trusting in both God’s providence and their mission as servants. They were commissioned by Jesus to bring tidings of peace to the poor and healing to the sick. They did what was asked of them, and they returned with joy.
As we observe this 249th anniversary of America’s independence, how shall we go forward? I’d like to suggest a slight reimagining of the American Dream. So far, that dream has been to own a home and be financially better off than the previous generation. Maybe we need to think a little more like servants. Maybe we should dream that everyone in America has a roof over their heads, and those roofs will be secure from the ravages of a ungovernable nature. Everyone will have enough to eat. Everyone will be safe on the streets where they live. All the sick and elderly will have the care they need and deserve, and our nation will continue to work for peace and prosperity for all the families of the earth.
Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends that we may feel like sheep among wolves, but God is still on the throne, our nation and our democracy still exist, and our command from Christ to serve is still in force. There is still reason to celebrate.
