The fourth of July has come again. People roam the streets donning their patriotic clothing that they probably purchased at Old Navy. The grocery stores are brimming with people buying last-minute watermelons and paper plates for their annual picnics. Yet again I have to question what our country has turned this holiday into. It's all fun and it's all about the fireworks. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love the thrill of setting something on fire in the middle of my street. But I can't help but feel guilty about the sparse passing thoughts I give to the true value and meaning of the day. I honestly can't say that I spend much time dwelling on the great sacrifice that so many men and women have given for the sake of our freedom. It's doesn't feel like Independence Day any more. It's just the fourth of July: a day in the middle of the summer when we don't have to work and my mom forces me to help her avidly clean the house.
So today I'm thinking about our independence not only from Great Brittain in the eighteenth century, but also the freedom given us by our father in heaven. In the words of the great Thomas Jefferson, "The God who gave us life, gave us liberty at the same time."