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As darkness drifted around the mountains surrounding our town, we dragged lawn chairs into the blocked-off street to wait for the Independence Day fireworks display.
"When are they gonna start?" The five-year-old girl beside me wiggled in excitement. She'd never seen fireworks before.
Just then, the sky exploded in a burst of glittering color to the sound of the soul-stirring notes of "The Star Spangled Banner." As the riot of color pulsated against the blackened sky, the little girl gazed in rapt awe.
"Oh!" she finally gasped, "does every country get this much love on the Fourth of July?"
"No," said her uncle, smiling, "only America."
It's true! I thought. America's always been a well-loved country, blessed by selfless leadership. Other countries haven't been so fortunate.
I saw this firsthand when our family flew to Bolivia to drill a well for a tiny village parched by drought. After a twenty-hour flight to the capitol city of LaPaz, we traveled another seventeen hours, first by bus, then by jeep. It was an arduous, nail-biting trip that took us careening down the vertical Andean foothills. Along the way we passed countless wooden crosses—mute reminders of people whose vehicles had failed to negotiate the narrow trail and sent them hurtling to their death in the valley below. When we finally reached the village of Mizque huddled at the edge of the Amazon Jungle, we shuddered in relief.
Three weeks of sobering revelations followed. Each morning I accompanied the women to the river bed where I learned to wash clothes in the trickle of muddy water that survived the drought. In the afternoons I walked into the village to barter for food.
While there, we visited a museum where remnants of an earlier, vastly different lifestyle were displayed. Bolivia, now steeped in unrelenting poverty, was once so rich in natural resources that even common household dishes had been crafted from gold. Yet today it's a third-world country, the result of poor leadership and lack of vision. Could this happen to America? I wondered.
On the flight home, I thought of a quote by John Quincy Adams: "You will never know how much it has cost my generation to preserve your freedom. I hope you make good use of it."
I thought of that quote again as I watched the fireworks. I'm deeply grateful for the sacrifices of others that have resulted in the life I enjoy today. But I'm far more grateful to God, who said the same thing John Quincy Adams did in more magnified terms: "I love you so much I sent my one and only Son to die for you." God's sacrifice preserved my spiritual freedom.
Now, as I watch this annual patriotic display through the eyes of the five-year-old child beside me, I have to ask myself as a Christian and as an American, Am I making good use of my freedom?
Copyright © 1997 by the author or Christianity Today International/Today's Christian Woman magazine. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or e-mail tcwedit@todayschristianwoman.net.
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