PREFACE:
In the Bible’s Old Testament, there is a verse that encourages all nations to return to worshipping God. 2 Chronicles 7:14 says, ” If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.”
Growing up in America is the greatest experience a person can enjoy. Just the thought of all the potential and possibilities that are avaiable – we are truly blessed.
But I must admit I am not quite so proud of the America I see today.
Things have changed through the years. Many have lost that “special heart” that Americans used to demonstrate so clearly. Our government is corrupted and crime and injustice is allowed to run without challenge throughout our streets and neighborhoods.
With a heavy heart I wrote the following, “Bring Her Back To Me.” I hope and pray that this will cause you to ponder the state of our beautiful country and to beseech God, on her behalf, to forgive her sins and heal her land.
BRING HER BACK TO ME
It’s my America, the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Just hearing the sound of that phrase brings warm remembrances of parades, cub scouts, and learning to honor the red, white, and blue with dignity and respect. I grew up as an American, something to be proud of, something to cause my head to be held a little higher.
Bombs bursting in air, bike riding in the park, rockets red glare, playing catch with Dad on the weekends. It is the outrageous Americana that we all grew up with. The fourth of July lived out daily across the waves of amber grain.
Give me your tired, your, poor . . . the Lady represented us well. Even in my young mind I conjured up visions of poor, starving immigrants rushing to the side rail of a transport ship to catch their first glance of her—Liberty—freedom incarnate. What unexplainable joy must have filled their being as they looked at her, memorizing each and every detail. What a remarkable picture they made as they stood there united, making a collection of sights and sounds and smells that would last a lifetime.
Many traveled with the knowledge that they’d never see family, friends, and home again. There was so much opportunity ahead and so much freedom to explore. There were so many obstacles overcome, and yet many still standing in the way. But it didn’t matter. It was America!
But as I’ve grown to manhood I’ve learned this is not my America at all.
My America is full of burdens, injustices, and depravation of liberties.
Somewhere in my heart I am ripped asunder by the reality of my America. The understanding of her shortcomings is a marring violation to my soul. It’s not the same as discovering that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are mere fables. It goes deeper than that – down to the embodiment of my pride and allegiance.
The once honest hustle and bustle of city life (men and women scurrying about to commerce etc.) has given way to dark and unspeakable deeds done in broad daylight. Even in the rural nucleus of my great land people spit upon the very essence of what I hold so dear and continue under the guise and protection of freedom and sweet liberty.
Her borders are now essentially closed—the ships are turned away. The harsh reality of a burgeoning economy and welfare class. The unthinkable cruelty of modern politicians feathering their nests and forgetting the fundamental representations they proclaimed so loudly on Election Day. So who cares about the ones who struggle for freedom from tyranny and injustice? Certainly not them.
Yes, I am disallusioned with my America. My dear God far removed, the very sanctity for life robbed from the cradle. The beauty of God’s blessed union dragged through the trenches of hell.
Yes, I am cynical. I am exasperated with the whole mess.
I want my America back. The same America I grew up with. The same America that welcomed the impoverished with open arms. The same America where I proudly gave two-fingered salutes to the passing “Old Glory.” I want to see the streets scrubbed clean with the hearts of men and women, boys and girls who love this land as I do. I want to see and read about my God in all the old familiar places. I want to hear the children speak his name before they begin their work each day.
Where has my beloved gone to? And whence can she return? Do not your eyes run fast with tears of pity as you look on dear Lady Liberty, scarred, tainted, stained with the excrement of her own inhabitants?
Enough, I cry. Polish her skin, light her torch. Bring back the glory that once was held in freedom’s cry. And let her children, her many children, be born without fear or trembling even of existence but rather come forth with resounding patriotism—I AM AN AMERICAN! I am free. I live in the home of the brave.
Please . . . bring back my America once again. Allow me to look into her eyes and behold her beauty one more time before I too perish.
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