PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OgHg0w5DFp4


Not always.

I just finished a tremendous book about Andrew Jackson. Fascinating man with such a wide scope of opinion and views on people, life, spirituality and a host of other issues.

An orphan at fourteen, the revolutionary war took the lives of his brothers and mother. He saw little distinction between family and nation. In his eyes, they melded together into one formation and one loving devotion. He was passionate in his pursuit to defend and preserve both.

He is said by some to have been the president most like you and me. During his presidency, the culture was absorbed in fascination with politics, patriotism and religion. “My Country Tis of Thee” and “Amazing Grace” were products of this era and culture.

“He could be incredibly violent toward Indians and decidedly generous. Still there was nothing redemptive about his Indian policy.” There was conflict that is more than obvious in hindsight of nearly two hundred years. The way the United States acquired much of it’s property is downright scandalous. The wrongs and injustices perpetrated on the Native American can never be undone. Simple apologies from a generation far removed from the original offenses are almost meaningless.

One of the most poignant quotes from this book “Andrew Jackson: American Lion” by Jon Meacham . . .

Not all great presidents were always good, and neither individuals nor nations are without evil.

Andrew Jackson was blinded by the prejudices of his age and owned at least 150 slaves. It’s easy, in the year nearly 2010, to judge.

While I find this all very interesting and love to read the history of the world and particularly of the United States, there are so many undeniable facts that cause me to reflect with some degree of what I can only call shame and recoil that God hasn’t called us into judgment over the public escapades of our past, much more so over the things done in secret “in the best interest of the Nation.”

I won’t go on about the embarrassing episodes in our country’s history. Most of us are painfully aware. We proceed to live with bowed heads, thankful for God’s Grace and Mercy over us as a people – praying for forgiveness as individuals and as a nation for the missteps and intentional offenses we’ve committed. Thankful that none of us gets what we deserve. Justice is for another time. His mercies are new every morning.

So with that said, there are times when I’m proud to be an American. Let’s make this clear though - I find the word “pride” has few applications in the life of one trying to walk in the steps of Christ. And in the light of all the public observations of those we celebrate as “famous” I have to say, I don’t know why we expect people who’ve never been to the Cross to behave as if they have been, when it’s hard enough for those of us who have been there to behave as if we have been there! I’m embarrassed at my own judgmental attitude when I’m aware of my own life and it’s twists, turns and failures.

While I was in the Philippines in September, I was able to visit the Manila American Cemetery and Memorial. We were able to pass slowly through this beautiful memorial to the more than twenty thousand who died in the islands during the second world war. Those who live in the Philippines are thankful for the United States of America and the part our service men and women played in securing their nation.

The cemetery and memorial are beautifully maintained by the United States. It is a quiet, humbling place. A place that honors many whose bodies were never recovered. Their families were simply and respectfully informed of the loss of one they loved.

As I walked this memorial, looking at the names on the wall, watching the landscape pass filled with white crosses marking the life of some young soldier, marine or sailor, I found myself thankful for those that made the decision to stand at the door of these beautiful islands, these sweet people, and hold off the oppressive forces that wanted to overrun and dominate them.

Each marker in this memorial represents a person, a body, a soul. One who was born on that one day to a family that eagerly awaited the arrival. “It’s a boy” or “It’s a girl” they said that day. They celebrated birthdays with their friends, that first day of school, they went to ballgames, had dates, made their folks proud when they announced they were going into the service. Moms cried when they got letters from the South Pacific. Moms and Dads worried and prayed over each of these children grown into grownups. Then they let go into the Eternal Hands when there was nothing else they could do.

Yes, we’ve made some monumental mistakes as a nation but we’ve done some wonderful good, too. Just like you and just like me.

Stay Thankful always. Do good.

I welcome your comments, questions and discussions.

Wayne