Independence Day

Gone, gone, gone

Not gone for long

When you're taught to be proud

Of where you come from

- Trevor Garrod

Speaking of revolutions, it is the fourth of July.  You may have noticed here at viva la re, we're prone to take a critical perspective towards a number of things: the Church, politicians, Alabama and the USA.  The tones of frustration can come across as condescending and hopeless.

Here's something that might not come across: I love America.  My homeland has afforded me privileges that I could not have enjoyed if born in most other places and times.  I have been provided with means and education at the sacrifices of countless others, both voluntary and involuntary.  Dissent is an essential component of democracy, and my hope is that as I criticize, I do so with hope and conviction. But even the right to dissent exercised frequently here is constitutionally protected.   I pray that my position of power and privilege will be poured out in pursuit of the virtues of liberty and justice.

The times I find it easy to be critical of America are abounding, for instance a tone-deaf woman in a karaoke bar shouting, "We'll put a boot in your ass, it's the American way!"  But there are also moments when I take immense delight in my nationality.  In few times do I find more pride than Fourth of July fireworks.  One of my earliest memories is standing out of Eck Stadium watching the display with my parents.

And so as Rachel and I prepare to depart the Union at the end of the month, I hope tonight's fireworks over the Vulcan will again stir pride and thankfulness.  Happy Independence Day, friends.  Celebrate well the revolution.