Red, white and blue. The 4th of July. Today
(despite the Scottish ‘mist’) I celebrated the Glorious 4th with my
sisters in Bible study. Despite the brutality, injustices, and other signs of
moral failure we read of daily, I choose to celebrate a nation born to give the
religiously oppressed the freedom to worship as they wished. I choose to
celebrate a nation whose open doors were symbolised by the welcoming heft of
the Statue of Liberty, her arm held high with the flame of freedom. I choose to
celebrate the idea of a country my dear dad laid his life on the line for,
fighting on the beaches of Saipan. I choose to celebrate the country I thought
I knew, the country where the citizens wore the white hats. (vintage cowboy
movies…)
God looks at me, and despite my critical thoughts,
narrow-mindedness and other signs of moral failure, he chooses to love me.
Even, dare I say, celebrate me.
We’ve all got a long way to go. But God is faithful. He is in
it for the long haul.
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