Today is the national holiday here in America we celebrate as our “Independence Day” as we always have…each and every year. It’s like our birthday. We celebrate that each and every year too…until the day we die. What struck me so powerfully in the fellowship hall of St. Paul’s yesterday, is that the America Andrew Murray enlisted to fight for in 1776 along with every one of his descendants who lived, fought and died for, is dead. Not different…not fundamentally transformed…not even dying, NO! Stone cold DEAD as the proverbial door nail! Imagine the dead calling out from the grave to awaken the living, because they are…trust me!
It’s one thing to celebrate Lincoln’s Birthday knowing he is in fact dead. It’s quite another, and a little creepishly macabre, to celebrate the 4th of July as if America were still alive! I imagine the sadistic satisfaction in the black heart of Obama watching us pretend today, much the same as the Japanese Commandant must have relished his power over the POW’s during their “theatrical productions” on weekly entertainment night an entire lifetime ago.
The worst of it is the appalling lack of dignity in the charade. The POW’s knew they were prisoners. For them, entertainment night was an oasis, a taste of home in the depths of hell for them to reach, for just enough sustenance to survive the next round of torture and beatings. America is the corpse of Ambassador Stevens tortured to death and then sodomized after he is dead by the one who has made a complete and total mockery of us from the day he seized power in 2008. From the moment he returned the bust of Churchill to the moment he disdainfully conceived the notion to replace Hamilton (of all the Founders) with a woman’s image. Why not? It’s no major feat at all for the tyrant who dares to replace God’s image with his own! He mocks, pokes and enslaves we celebrating fools with every destructive and deadly stroke of his pen. And what say we? “Thank you sir, may we have another?”
Party hearty dear friends and neighbors…love those dogs and burgers underneath the rockets’ red glare…another year to come and go. I for one, along with those and everything I am loyal to can pretend no longer. From this moment on I write what I know to be my eventual death warrant, rather than perpetuate a fool’s folly. But never, mind you, with a wisp of woe-is-me. I can only follow with extraordinary sense of purpose, where the light of conscience leads …even to my own end. And to you along the river bank who cannot see beyond the bend, all you have to lose, you are holding in your hand. But all you have to live for…may never pass this way again.