God stole my America...

Last night God was carving a piece out of me. Not in the physical sense - I'm not down a kidney or anything. But another piece of my working paradigm, the mesh of assumptions by which I have viewed and lived life, is being removed.

Any of you who know me will know that I've had a growing skepticsm of the set of values called the "American Dream." Its focus on comfort, its glorifying of entertainment, perhaps especially its assertion of materialism as the means to the majority of desireable ends - these all rung hollower the longer I knocked on their hallowed doors.

But what remained even as those values fell was the picture of the American Dream. Husband,wife, a couple touble-making but loveable kids living in the contentment of personal comfort and societal respect. The luxuries, the smiles - just picture it. I certainly have, and for the majority of my life have held that picture as a goal or aspiration. Not so much by my own conscious choosing, I just wasn't presented any other options. 'That,' said society to my young mind, 'is the best you can do.'

But ever so carefully God has been removing the values and assumtions that underly that picture, cutting the roots from it. And just last night He turned His scalpel to the picture itself. And a painful cut it was.

It was I who asked Him to make the incision, though. He would not have done it otherwise. I realized that the mountaintop that I was straining for had no mountain below it, was only a whisp of cloud, an illusion. I asked God to remove this picture of the perfect American life from my paradigm. But I didn't quite realize the rammifications.

All the things I had long assumed come with the American Dream - house, car, marriage, contentment, happiness - now found their lives solely in the picture. So many times had I seen these things in that idyllic context and so few times had they been presented to me outside of it that I could not picture them otherwise. This, by the way, is one of the great failings of the American Church, or at least my little niche of it.

So as God deftly began whittling away at the remnants of my imagined America I felt a greater loss than only that of a childhood dream. What I felt was the loss of hope.

As always, the only way to counter a lack of hope is by faith. I have faith, am slowly, prayerfully growing faith, that God will replace those things that I see him taking, and replace them with their betters. Until then, ouch God, but keep cutting.

The Charge of Freedom

Fourth of July, Independence Day, Freedom Day. Freedom. We have it here in America – lots of it. As the day of barbeques and fireworks approached this year I began to wonder, ‘What will I do with my freedom?’ This year, next year, for the rest of my blessed American life, what will I do with my freedom?

It got me to thinking about what most Americans typically do with their freedom. One of the first words that came to mind is ‘movies’, both specifically and representatively. Specifically because Americans spend an enormous amount of money on movies each year – in theaters and on DVDs – a sum complimented by the amount of time we spend watching and talking about movies.

Representatively because movies are the figurehead of the great entertainment industry, and Americans love their entertainment. In fact we spend as much time as we can just being entertained. Movies, television, radio, concerts, plays, video games, ballgames... pick your poison. Even pursuits considered far more noble than a movie such as surfing, camping, or playing a sport are often little more than interactive entertainment. In America we have the freedom to be entertained and we take full advantage thereof.

Might that be the greatest use that Americans make of their freedom? The only thing that we spend more waking hours doing is working, but we work largely to buy entertainment. Just think, after the house payment and insurance bills and taxes and all the other necessities, most of our money goes towards having fun, or to savings and investments so that we can have fun at a later date.

America is the land of entertainment. What fun!

Ooh. But wait. There’s a problem. How do I explain?… Ah yes, Saving Private Ryan. Those of you who have seen the film, feel free to skip the next paragraph. For those that haven’t, a quick synopsis, if you don’t mind some spoilers:

Private James Francis Ryan is one of four brothers serving in World War II. His three brothers die and the powers that be decide that he better be sent home to his family. Problem is, he has parachuted in behind enemy lines somewhere and no one knows quite where. Sent to extract Private Ryan is a unit led by Captain John Miller. The unit goes through a couple of fire fights, losing two men, two friends, before finding Ryan. But even then Ryan won’t leave, he doesn’t want to desert his friends or his post, and so the whole unit stays to fight one last battle. More men from the unit die or are wounded, including Captain Miller himself before the cavalry arrive and dispatch the Germans.

As Captain Miller sits propped against some rubble slowly dying Private Ryan comes to him. Miller motions for Ryan to lean his ear in and says in a near whisper, “Earn this. Earn it.”

Whoa. What a charge! How do you earn the life of even one man, much less the 10 or so that died to save Private Ryan? What could James Ryan do in his lifetime to make that sacrifice worth while? Well, I’m not sure, but watching movies certainly won’t do it.

If, in the sequel, Ryan went on to lead a life centered upon entertaining himself and maintaining his own comfort, I think we’d all be a little disappointed with him. Maybe even disgusted.

But then, perhaps we all find ourselves in Private Ryan’s standard issue boots, leaning our ears to generations past (and passing) as they whisper from distant battlefields, “Earn this.” Were they not these men who died to give us the freedom we celebrate? Are they not these men and women who protected and continue to protect us from those who would see us defeated, cowered, or worse? They were. They are.

And what charge have they given us? Good question. Many men have probably thought many different things upon their dusty death beds. The best we can do, if you ask me, is to take the best values that we know and to have faith that these were the charges given us. For the most part they probably were: people seem nobler in their last minutes. And so again, watching movies won’t do it.

If your defensive instincts are springing up, I don’t blame you. I’m outlining a claim that history has upon you. Your freedom, you see, the freedom that you enjoy in America, is not your own. It was bought by thousands of men with blood, pain, tears. You owe it to them.

For those who are Christians or know much about Christianity this is probably sounding familiar. “You are not your own;” said the apostle Paul, “you were bought with a price. Therefore honor God with your body.”

Those who have accepted Christ’s sacrifice and become his willing servants know that he has a similar though vastly greater claim on our lives. Christ whispers to us from the history of the cross and from his glorious seat above Heaven and earth, not ‘Earn this,’ for we know that to be impossible, but ‘You have been given much. Live in thankfulness and obedience.’ It is the best that we can do to listen to him.

So what will I do with my freedom, then? I will follow those greatest values, those that Jesus himself taught during his time on earth. I will nod to those great men and women that have charged me with earning the freedom they provided while I run to the open arms of my Lord, who has given me yet more.