As I pulled up to a traffic light today, I saw a truck with a bumper sticker that read: I'm an American-American. I figured it wasn’t a bumper sticker celebrating stuttering. As I glanced at the man driving the truck, I was confident he was not a Native American.
So, I wondered: what is the message this man is trying to convey to the world with his bumper sticker? Does he have some sense of privilege as if somehow his pre-animated soul had kissed-up to the master of the universe and had been asked, "So, in what century and on what section of which continent would you prefer to enter into creation?"? And did he imagine himself answering, quite smugly, “I believe I would like to be born in the late twentieth century in North America—the United States of America to be specific.”?
This amazing country into which I have been blessed to be born, created and sustained by the integrity and ferociously held beliefs of many who worked and gave of themselves—not just for the notion of liberty and freedom, but for the practice, experience, and spread of it—exists because people are both capable of and willing to regularly step outside of their own self-interest, considering and protecting the interest of others, both collectively and individually.
Sometimes this selflessness manifests itself in military service, which can and has exacted supreme sacrifice from far too many brave souls, and tragically scarred the lives of many more. Other times, with equal courage and importance, these champions of freedom have chosen to use words and costly actions of non-violence to propagate the critical seed of liberty. Honesty and truth, spoken with conviction and backed by choices and lifestyle, are as capable of diffusing hatred and indifference as the most advanced and deadly weapons of war.
My trust and hope in God’s promise of shalom—the peace that both passes understanding and overcomes the fear, anxiety, and pride that fuel the fire of war—bids me to hold out for the day when our rockets will be melted and molded into playground equipment, and our bombs will be repurposed into fuel to transport estranged family members and friends toward tearful reunions.
I don’t believe that “I am an American-American” is a bumper sticker or an idea that made or makes us into a nation of hope and promise. We are bigger and better than that. Deliver us, O God, from the vanity of confusing the luck and miracle of our circumstances of birth with the expectation of entitlement. Give us the courage to celebrate and support both those who fight to defend freedom with weapons of mass destruction and those whose weapons are more subtle but no-less effective.
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