INDEPENDENCE DAY

For 197 years this country called America has attempted to provide the soil and the climate in which freedom and independence can grow. For almost two centuries the U. S. of A. has become a haven of refuge for immigrants seeking an escape from repression. Our country has been a mecca for persons interested in breathing the fresh air of freedom.

This experiment in democracy, of course, has not yet completely succeeded. We still have the weeds of injustice. Repression and discrimination are aimed at skin color and nationality. Massive poverty traps thousands of victims who have no control over being poor.

And we haven’t answered all the questions about "how free is free?" Right now the question is before us, post-Pentagon papers: "How much are the citizens allowed to know, and how much can the government bureaucrats keep from the people without stepping on their rights?" Watergate has only made the question a more gnawing one.

We’re in a giant swirl over personal freedom vs. protecting the whole society in areas like legalizing marijuana, deciding what is obscene and pornographic, and free love in the commune.

July 4, then, in addition to fireworks and flag-waving, is a time for serious evaluation of where we are after almost 200 years of declared independence. And a day of recommitment as Christian citizens to the questions before us in light of the noble ideals we have established in the Bill of Rights and Constitution.

Independence Day is time for recognizing that with all its flaws and flys in its ointment, the U. S. of A. has been a good home for most of its citizens. It has done many things right and has provided a healthy environment for the majority of its people. So we do have good reason to say, "Thanks, Lord, for planting us here."

But our prayer should continue, "And, Lord, not only thanks for giving us our citizenship here, but, Lord, teach us as Christians to demonstrate to your world what it means to be free."

I have many enemies. There are men who want me for their slave under their tyranny. There are men who want racial revenge on me. My wallet would like to convince me I will be happiest when I sell my soul to the dollar sign. But my biggest enemy is me.

The largest threat to my freedom as God’s person is myself. In trying to be free to be God’s person, I am afraid for my security, my safety, my reputation.

The early chapters of Acts describe how Peter and John used the power of God’s Spirit to heal a man paralyzed for almost forty years. The healing stirred up quite a reaction in Jerusalem among the Jewish leaders.

Threatening the apostles, the temple officials forbade them from saying anything further about Jesus in Jerusalem. It was a threat Peter and John could only ignore, because as they put it, "Whether it is right in the sight of God to listen to you rather than to God, you must judge; for we cannot but speak of what we have seen and heard." That’s the kind of answer that keeps us free.

But I am afraid for my security and safety. If I put my life where my mouth is, I run the risk of a threat against my life, or at least, against my community status.

Christians in Europe during World War II who dared speak out boldly against the concept of the Aryan supremacy and the mass extermination of one ethnic group, were served notice they would either shut up or be shut up permanently.

There’s an experiment in Christian love and living in Georgia called Koinonia Farm. It’s an effort to bring whites and blacks together to live and work together to promote peace and understanding as well as improve the living standards for poor whites and blacks. It’s a beautiful story, but it is fulled with examples of threats, some carried out, by rocks and bombs and running cars off the road against this move to demonstrate the love of the Christ.

But threats can be more subtle and only aimed at my reputation. I can be afraid of what people are going to say if I show too much of my convictions. I can be fearful of losing my job if they think I’m a religious kook.

In high school and college I had a summer job in the clubhouse of a golf course. It became a terrific opportunity to get to know all sorts of people and a chance to discover what made them tick, especially their religious thoughts. When I came home to share those conversations around our table, my father would issue a stern warning, that I had best stop that kind of talk or I would be without a job.

My fear for my own security can be a great enemy, and it can enslave me. Then I am no longer free. I cannot rationalize my way out; I can’t con myself out of being afraid. The only workable answer is the one the apostles used: "We cannot but speak of the things we have seen and heard."

The spirit of that answer is the Spirit of God himself. When Peter and John returned to the other disciples and reported their experience, they all joined together to ask God to grant them one thing, the power to speak and act with boldness in the name of Jesus the Christ. If our freedom is threatened by the fear for our own status, our prayer must be the same.

But I am also selfish about my security. All around our country today there are numerous groups of people living in communes. They have become so numerous they have rated special television reports. The idea of the commune, of course, is not new. It has been tried in our country as well as others long ago.

It was even tried in the early Church, as Acts 4 tells us: "Now the company of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the things which he possessed was his own, but they had everything in common ... There was not a needy person among them, for as many as were possessors of lands or houses sold them, and brought the proceeds of what was sold and laid it at the apostles’ feet; and distribution was made to each as any had need."

This was communism with a small "c," pure and simple. Apparently this communal experiment did not last very long, probably because of internal dissension. And I suppose to suggest it today on a large scale may be unrealistic; it’s still a good question.

But there is a point here anyway. In the commune the rights to possessions and property as being "mine" are given up for the sake of making sure the needs of the whole group are being met. Members of the commune find their freedom in sharing with others. There is no mention of anyone getting a free ride or leeching off the group. Rather, those who bring home more bacon share with those whose jobs do not pay as well. But everyone does his bit.

Each of these early Christians did his bit because his sharing meant sharing Jesus the Christ. And that’s all he needed to open up and give.

But I am selfish about my security. I am looking for a one-room castle where I can lead my private life in sound-proof, loveproof quiet, protected from any worry for the rest of humankind.

Or I’m looking for a camp where I can be the nomad, the vagabond, pitching my tent where I like, here today, gone tomorrow, free from obligations and responsibilities.

Or I’m looking for a cloister where I can communicate with God alone, without rubbing shoulders with the common crowd, without any necessity for sharing my life with anyone.

Opposed to this kind of selfish searching, Jesus the Christ offers the chance to be part of a community where I can be free, free from my fears about my security and free from my selfishness with my security.

We need to recapture the spirit of the Christian commune. To be free we must have that spirit. Put a better way, we must allow God’s Spirit to recapture us.

God’s Spirit is the only viable answer to my fears for my security. And His Spirit alone can show me that instead of selfishness, I need self-sacrifice. Then I am free to be - his person in his world. He makes me that way. Amen.