Loving My Country - A Reflection on July 4th

Happy Birthday, USA!

'Kingdom First' doesn't mean not loving one's country. Indeed, loving one's neighbor can mean making tremendous sacrifices for one's country in the face of terrible evil to preserve life and liberty for family and others.

In that spirit of Kingdom First and love for my country, I'm offering this birthday reflection on America, noting a particular quality of our unity we can joyfully recall and celebrate. Here it is: our diverse ethnic ancestry highlights our unique and unified national identity, and this reality is a remarkable gift to rejoice in.

I wrote this piece a few years ago while in Athens, Greece, the fountain of the philosophical streams that have watered the land largely referred to as 'the West'’ Those waters were taken up by Christian rivers, which, in their various forms, brought life to many and shaped the institutions of the old and new worlds. As Tom Holland has so ably demonstrated in his brilliant book “Dominion," the Christian tradition and gospel gave birth to the virtues of so much of what we now take for granted as “the West,” the particular values authored by our better angels at the foundation of our Republic.

In the American context, that meant something entirely unique: a country rooted in an idea of personal freedom rather than in ethnicity, race, or tribe. Being an American meant embracing an ideal of freedom and opportunity, of every person possessing the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That ideal was poisoned by slavery and other abuses of power, and we have struggled throughout our brief story to fully embrace the ideals we espouse. It is also true that thousands of Americans have sacrificed everything to secure a better future for themselves and millions more here and abroad.

I first went to England over forty years ago, and after the appointed amount of time, I was given permanent resident status. I could've stayed and perhaps even become a UK citizen. Had I done so, I'm sure I would've enjoyed that life immensely. But I am equally sure that even after forty years there, I would never be regarded as 'English.’ It can be argued that to be 'British' is a bigger tent, but as large as it is - spanning the memory of the Commonwealth for some - I think it's safe to say that I'd even fail to qualify on that designation, too.

That would be as true of any European nation I might've called home. Oh, maybe the Irish would've called me their own, my name at least marking me clearly as one of that great people, but the reality is that to be 'French' or 'English' or 'Belgian' or 'Greek', is about nationality, ethnicity, and tribe.

To be an American, however, is altogether different. We are a nation of immigrants and the descendants of immigrants. We are the dream-chasers, the people moved by more than race, class, or religion - even if love for one's faith and the freedom to practice it is what brought one's fathers and mothers to this land in the first place. Most of our ancestors arrived desperate, and some - tragically - were kidnapped and sold to the highest bidder, landed here to carve a life and future out of the misery of a brutal chapter in our nation’s story.

So we are also people repenting of enslaving others, of denying them the opportunity to live in the freedom at the root of our story. We have far to go on that score and further still when it comes to the First Nations, the peoples who preceded the arrival of our parents on the tall ships from Europe, often so dreadfully and dishonestly treated. God help us.

We have intermittently struggled to understand how to receive and integrate the masses who made their way here, arriving hungry, poor, and destitute of all but hope. Those who were already safely home inside the United States have sometimes visited great cruelties on the newcomers from Asia, Europe, South America, and Africa.

Yet, however deep these failures run, it remains true that the United States has always been a nation of the dream. It is the place where all can come from every corner of the earth to find refuge, contribute the gifts of our family’s original roots, build a new home, and, speaking in their native tongue or gloriously accented English, fashion a free future, contributing a unique genius to all. In return, the promise to defend that freedom for others is made.

That was true for my Irish and English ancestors, the Romanians and Cubans on Toni's side of the family, and my sister's wonderful husband from Iran and all of his friends in Nashville, whom I've grown to love so much.

I'm not saying this is the only country that has this experience. I suspect my Canadian friends feel the same way about their beautiful country. However, it is something I love dearly about my homeland.

While we Americans point back proudly to our Irish, Latino, German, Swedish, Romanian, Russian, English, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Indian, Persian, Lebanese, Ghanaian, or Greek roots, whether our ancestors arrived on slave ships from Africa, famine ships from Ireland (where I am today), life-rafts from Cuba, or the Mayflower, from wherever we've come, no matter the color of our skin, the languages of our mothers or the sins of our fathers, it is the dream of the future that unites us. It is a hope for freedom, one purchased at a high price, and we do well to cherish it always.

Strangely, this dream is contested territory now, especially in some tiny enthno-nationalist circles within Reformed theological communities. Stephen Wolfe continues to trumpet his celebration of Aryan supremacy and the idea that North America is a land only for whites, especially white Christians. His book and speeches condemn him, and I need not add anything to what he’s already published as evidence that his warped views are dangerous and worthy only of the ash heap of history.

So on this 248th birthday of the American Republic, I hope we can re-commit to a proper patriotism that thinks not only of our rights but those of our fellow citizens, prays for all those in authority, seeks the good of our communities, and longs to pass forward to rising generations a challenge to accept what is necessary to make certain a great many more birthdays will be celebrated by these United States.

We do better together when we honor freedom in one another.