If I did not know in my heart of hearts that this nation was founded on Christian principles — and that a vibrant Christian culture spread like wildfire throughout the British colonies — I would approach this upcoming Fourth of July with sadness and hopelessness. But I do know American history. I know the Bible and the New Testament of Jesus Christ. And I know the Christian dedication that the Founders shared, even as they differed on how best to apply that faith. It is precisely this foundation that kept us from following the tragic path of the French Revolution — a path that descended into anarchy, chaos, and bloodshed, only to be arrested by the rise of Napoleon as dictator.
When I look across the ocean at France's great upheaval, I am reminded of what happens when a people attempt to build liberty without a shared moral center. Their revolution began with noble words and high ideals, but it quickly fractured into factions, fear, and fury. The monarchy fell, the streets ran with suspicion, and the Reign of Terror devoured even its own architects. In the end, the chaos cried out for a strongman. Napoleon stepped into the vacuum — first as savior, then as ruler, and finally as emperor. France gained order, but only by surrendering the very liberty it had sought. The difference was clear: their revolution lacked what ours possessed — a common moral inheritance, a biblical imagination, and a people shaped, however imperfectly, by the teachings of Christ.
And so, as this Fourth of July approaches, I refuse to surrender to despair or to the loud voices declaring that America is nothing more than a failed experiment or a tired empire in decline. They do not know our roots. They do not understand the soil from which this nation sprang. At its best, the American story has always been a people wrestling with God, not running from Him.
Our liberty was never meant to be self-created or self-sustained. It was received as a trust from a higher Authority. When we remember that truth and return to our inheritance, hope rises again — not a naïve hope, but a seasoned one. It is the kind that has endured wars, depressions, and civil strife, because its foundation lies deeper than politics, deeper than culture, and deeper even than the nation itself.
As a boy, and even well into manhood, I suffered from the common human affliction of navel-gazing. It is a painfully accurate metaphor for the self-absorbed pursuits so many Americans drift into. I know now that great stretches of my own life were wasted because I had little awareness of how blessed I was to be an American citizen. I paid scant attention to the direction of the country, and when I did, it was often with a cynical shrug: "There's nothing I can do about it." It took me a lifetime to learn that you cannot turn your back on the world, because the world will not turn its back on you. You cannot simply take your ball and go home. Life and history will come knocking whether you are ready or not.
Here is the hard truth I had to face: Nations do not collapse merely because a handful of wicked men seize power. They collapse because millions of ordinary citizens quietly step back from their posts. A republic is not destroyed in one dramatic moment; it erodes grain by grain when its people grow distracted, cynical, or weary. When good men withdraw into private comforts, the public square does not remain empty — it is filled by those who hunger for power. The slow decay that follows is often mistaken for fate, when in reality it is the accumulated consequence of a people who stopped paying attention.
Yet even with all this, I do not look toward July 4th with dread. I look toward it with a strange and stubborn hope. Nations can drift, yes — but they can also awaken. A people can forget their inheritance, but they can remember it in a single generation. Renewal has never required a majority; it has always begun with a remnant who refuse to surrender the good, the true, and the beautiful. And I believe that remnant still exists in America. I see it in the quiet faithfulness of ordinary men and women who raise their children with reverence, who work with integrity, who pray for their neighbors, and who still believe that liberty is a gift entrusted to us by God — not a toy to be neglected.
If enough of us stand our ground — humbly, courageously, and gratefully — this nation can yet be renewed. Not by force, not by fury, but by the same unseen Hand that guided us at the beginning.
