Two days ago, I had my hand slapped by a blogger on Facebook.
Her post mentioned something about the Constitution being the law of the land, not the Bible. And if the Bible was law, we might as well move to Iran.
While I wholeheartedly agree that the Constitution is our law, and should always be so, I responded that the foundation of our country lies in the words that we are “one nation under God”, and even our money says “in God we trust”.
Her reply was that those two axioms came in the forties and fifties, in response to the red scare; they are not the foundation of our country at all.
I’ve been, as my son would say, a little salty ever since. They are the words I grew up with. They are the words my class and I have said every single morning for thirty years. They are the words on our currency which I touch every day of my life. And it doesn’t seem that they hold meaning for much of America any more.
“Let it go,” said my beloved husband, who knows how much I yearn for the final word.
“But I have to stand up for Him!” I cried.
“God is perfectly capable of standing up for Himself,” he replied. Which is, of course, true. But if I say nothing, I am not representing what I believe. I am allowing the voices of people who aren’t Christian to silence those who are.
These are troubling times, times when it may be easier to scorn Christianity than to adhere to it.
But as I sat in church on Maundy Thursday afternoon, I was reminded of how Jesus washed his disciples’ feet. He came to serve, not be served. If my faith means anything at all, and to me it means a great deal, I want to care like He cared. I want to obey the words He spoke at the Last Supper:
“So I give you a new command: Love each other deeply and fully. Remember the ways that I have loved you, and demonstrate your love for others in those same ways. Everyone will know you as My followers if you demonstrate your love to others.” ~John 13: 34-35 (The Voice translation)
That’s all that really matters.
That’s the final word.