You Reap What You Sow

Last year, my youngest was in the second grade, and she was studying the War of 1812. Initially, I didn’t pay much attention to the lessons that were sent home. I mean—what harm could some worksheets do to a second-grader? As the worksheets continued to come home, I began to read some of what was being taught. One such worksheet contained the history and lyrics of the “Star-Spangled Banner.” One of the characters on her favorite show sang it, so she was excited to give it a try now that she had the lyrics. There was a part of me that wanted to extinguish her excitement with a lesson on the infamous third stanza, or on the fact that the U.S. wasn’t “the land of the free” for black people at the time. I decided—for better or for worse—that an eight-year-old didn’t need her excitement crushed just yet, so we went on YouTube to repeatedly watch Whitney Houston’s epic Super Bowl performance of the national anthem.

That incident reminded me of how—from a young age—we indoctrinate our kids with American history, giving them the good without the bad. Coloring pages are sent home of Native Americans and Pilgrims enjoying a hearty, Thanksgiving meal, but little mention is made of the systematic conquest of Native Americans and their land. We promote ideals such as bravery and freedom, yet omit any talk of slavery and discrimination. I don’t know—there may even be wisdom in leaving out the gory details until kids are better able to cope and engage with them, but by that time we have already filled them with a pristine image of the United States of America.

While it may be wise to omit certain facts at certain ages, I believe it is unwise for us to continuously glorify facts that are clearly sinful. In the name of patriotism, we unashamedly celebrate, justify, and promote historical events that are unbiblical on so many levels. And when we plant such seeds in generation after generation of Americans, there should be no surprise when we reap a harvest of hatred and conflict.

Take, for example, the Boston Tea Party and other riots in response to taxes imposed by the British government. No matter how many times we chant, “No taxation without representation!” to justify these acts, it is still sinful according to God’s standards. Clearly, we are to pay taxes as Christians (see Matthew 22:15-22, Romans 13:1-7). Jesus doesn’t say we must think the taxes are fair before we pay them. If you know anything about the Roman tax system at the time those Scriptures were written, you know that it was anything but fair. The Boston Tea Party was a clear violation of the command to “be subject to the governing authorities” (Romans 13:1) and “to give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s” (Matthew 22:21). And we haven’t even gotten to the evil that came with the destruction of property, and the racism that came with disguising themselves as Native Americans. Yet, these men are held up as patriots and heroes.

It should be no surprise, then, when other generations believe that riots and protests are the solutions to getting the justice they seek. Our history of handling conflict—and our celebration of it—is so ingrained into their DNA that it subconsciously becomes the way in which they deal with injustice. How can we kick and scream when we see destruction of property in Ferguson and Baltimore when we reenact and commemorate that very thing in Boston and Rhode Island? Can we honestly say that the current rallying cry of “no justice, no peace” is not as justifiable as “no taxation without representation?”

I am not saying that the actions of Black Lives Matter or Antifa are any less sinful than those of our forefathers. What I’m saying is that we can’t celebrate one and condemn the other. We are hypocrites if we tell black men to obey the police if they don’t want to get shot, while simultaneously celebrating those who died while assaulting British troops enforcing the law (i.e. The Boston Massacre). We are hypocrites if we label as thugs those who burn buildings in frustration with the justice system, but then label as patriots those who burned ships in frustration with British customs (i.e. The Gaspee Affair). When we celebrate our sinful history, we are planting seeds of discord in the hearts of our children, and we are reaping an abundant harvest of division.

Love the Sinner, Hate the Sin

If you have read this far, you may want to have me arrested and tried for treason. You may think that I do not love this country, and that I should pack up and move to Canada. That would be far from the truth. I love the United States of America. I love the freedoms we have in this country. I love the diverse cultures in this country. There are so many reasons to rejoice as a citizen of the United States.

However, my allegiance is to Heaven first as a follower of Christ and a child of God, which requires me to call evil what God calls evil, and to call good what God calls good. We as a country should do the same if we hold to our supposed Judeo-Christian roots. I believe many in this country are so fixated on the U.S. as Heaven, that we view any criticism of this country as hatred for it. Is it possible for one to love the U.S., but not necessarily the way it was conceived?

I believe so. Before I was saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ, I was steeped in sexual sin. I have three children who were born out of wedlock as a result. I view each of them as blessings from God, and I love them just as I love my other children. Yet, because Christ died a horrible death for my sins, I dare not rejoice in the sexual sin that conceived my kids, and that nailed Jesus to the cross. I love my kids, but I repented of the sinfulness that brought them into the world.

Jesus also died for our rebellion as a nation, and He was raised for our salvation. If we claim to be a Christian nation, we cannot continue to rejoice in the sinful rebellion that conceived the United States. We must repent of these acts if we are to experience the presence and power of God in this country. If we continue in our memorializing of sin, we will continue to sow the seeds of destruction. Don’t be surprised when we reap a harvest that is more than what we can contain.