Hand over Heart

America.

The very mention of the word
Elicits in me both profound pride mingled with hangdog shame.

You see, it’s hard to be proud of certain epochs of our history,
Quite challenging to pay homage to what was tolerated in the name of Jesus
Under the banner of the Bible--
verses used as blinders, then beating rods, they bayonets.
Difficult to find pleasure in the oppression of so many
Used as property to secure our liberation--to them, a mere façade of freedom.

But I have to believe that just like many of us,
sometimes people just don’t see it when they’re in it.
I don’t know how we don’t, we just don’t.
Either because we haven’t been taught how to
Or because we don’t really want to,
Either way, we all stand within earshot of a Jesus who cries,
“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
All of us.

I would hope I would have done something different at the cross,
As I would hope I would have done something different at the plantation.

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness
Was scratched on parchments with quills of virtuous vision,
Well-intentioned hearts that honestly saw through a glass darkly
Blinded to the present reality that belied these lofty dreams
For a select remnant who were living in the cypress slave cabins
Downwind of the Big House and its servant’s quarters,
Deemed unworthy of these same noble aspirations,
daring declarations of independence.
These back-storied stains remain as dirty blots
on the tapestry of our hallowed history.

So my July 4th celebration is also a solemn commemoration.
I feel the gravity of the bloodstained uniforms worn
By greater men than I, who laid down their lives for our country
To fight for a future reality at the cost of the current one
While remembering the unsavory stains of our story
Marked by the bloodshed of innocent men and women and children
Making up the bloodline of our nation just the same,
--The lineage of our liberty--
I stop each year to concurrently honor their lives as well,
I can’t rip out those pages of this land's genealogy
While pledging allegiance to our storied flag.

When I stand, hand on heart,
to honor the high price of our freedom
I’m mindful of the bloodshed of all--
noble and ignoble,
glorious and inglorious,
The blood-sacrifice of both is weighty on my heart,
This beating vital organ in my chest cupped under my sweaty palm
That pulsates with gratitude for every life lost
At the hands of the heart-blind,
The world of mice and men lost in their own worlds,
somehow clawing forward in search of a better world.

I cried last night as fireworks and music reminded me of our past,
I thought about brave pilgrims and brave Indians,
I thought about hard fought colonies and slave ships,
I thought about Lincoln and Breckinridge,
I thought about the Yankees and the Confederates,
I thought about Gettysburg and Normandy.
I thought about World War 1 and World War 2
(while praying against World War 3)
I thought about Black Lives who died in battle to free White Lives.
I thought about White Lives who died in wars to free Black Lives. 

I thought about Hitler and Stalin and Roosevelt and Churchill.
I thought about Pearl Harbor and Vietnam.
I thought about the Pacific War and the Gulf War.
I thought about MLK and JFK—and the assassination of both.
I thought about Reagan and Obama—unprecedented presidential elections.
I thought about Brown vs. The Board of Education and Roe vs. Wade.
I thought about the Twin Towers and the Taliban.
I thought about the massacre of Egyptian Coptic Christians and the Syrian Refugee Camps.
I thought about terrorism and persecution, the bombings and beheadings
I thought about Democrats and Republicans.
I thought about peaceful protests and virtue signaling.
I thought about Black Lives Matter and Blue Lives Matter.
I thought about the crisis at the border and the laws of the land.
I thought about Trump and #NeverTrump.

I thought about every war, election, court ruling, and nonviolent protest I possibly could.
I thought about every death for every cause on every side for every reason or lack thereof.
I thought about the checkered record and the admirable actions that lead us to this day.
I thought about the times our nation has been on the right and the wrong side of history.
I thought about the depravity and dignity of our human race--every race—
that has surfaced in America’s short story—
sometimes credible; sometimes incredible.

And watching the fireworks I let it all hit me, all of it…
Overcome with pride and shame.
Overwhelmed with tears,
sadness and gladness running parallel down my face,
I held my hand upon my aching heart
and honored every life lost at every cost,
Soldiers and slaves,
Victors and victims,
Allies and Enemies,
The misleading and misled,
the misunderstood and misinformed,
The just wars and unjust wars (can we tell the difference?)
I paused to ask for forgiveness and to be thankful for freedom in one breath.
To recognize that Jesus still cries out over this world today and every day:
“Father, forgive them, they don’t know what they’re doing.”

I don’t think people always knew when they were doing unspeakable evils,
nor did our forefathers near realize when they were unsung heroes
whose acts would change the course of history for the good,
re-writing and righting tragic storylines and bloodlines. 

I only pray for my own awareness or lack of awareness in this present hour,
I pray that I will stand for truth and justice, both.
That I will understand that just because I have Jesus in my heart,
That I, too, have grandpa in my bones,
Which makes me just as vulnerable to a myopic vision
Fraught with preexisting conditions leading to preconceived conclusions.

If history tells us anything, it tells us that we often don’t know what we don’t know.
We don’t know when to raise our voice or bite our tongue.
We don’t know the difference between the pacifist and pacifism,
When silence is life-giving or deadly.
We don’t know the difference between the molehill and the mountain,
which is worth dying on and what is worth dying for.

So, Father God, look upon this world made in your image
with the same soft, blood-shot eyes of 2,000 years ago
and utter the same words over our needy nation…
“Father, forgive them, they don’t always know what they are actually doing.”

And may we be found celebrating freedom while asking forgiveness every day of our lives.
It only seems right and reasonable.

I love America with all my heart, and seek to honor the whole story as best I know to.

Please be kind with my brittle thoughts.