For 21 months of the 1970s, the American Freedom Train was a traveling museum that toured 48 of these United States to celebrate the nation’s bicentennial. I was 14 years old when it rolled through town, and my parents took me down to the train depot to check it out.
The train featured 10 railcars filled with display cases that housed more than 500 of the country’s most treasured historical and cultural relics: George Washington’s personal copy of the Constitution, Benjamin Franklin’s handwritten draft of the Articles of Confederation; the original Louisiana Purchase document, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s preaching robes and pulpit. It was, to say the least, a remarkable, two-century display of American exceptionalism that left a lasting impression.
But the Freedom Train wasn’t without its detractors. Critics argued that its displays conspicuously ignored major labor movements like establishment of the right to collective bargaining. Others lamented only token nods to African-American history. At stops in the American South, visitors passed through the displays in segregated groups. Those observations left a lasting impression, too.
I really do care about this land we love, so my prayer for the United States on this 250th anniversary of its founding lifts fervent hope of acknowledging our individual and national brokenness, and taking responsibility for our collective failures and foibles. Because explaining them away only stifles and suffocates even the most meager dreams of rising above the fray – taking the higher road not taken – to become a better, more faithful, more spiritually fruitful nation.
The blessing of such brutal honesty provides the catalyst of forgiveness by grace. Heartful confession always opens wide the door of fresh possibilities. Fessing-up in all humility always rolls away the stone that separates you from enjoying the fullness of resurrection. Telling the truth is the most hopeful and helpful form of patriotism if ours or any nation has any chance of become great again. And the writer of Psalm 103 offers encouragement to take ownership of our national failures and find assurance of forgiveness and hope for tomorrow in the steadfast love of the Lord.
The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. He will not always accuse, nor will he keep his anger forever. He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as the heavens are high above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who revere him; as far as the east is from the west, so far he removes our transgressions from us.
As a father has compassion for his children, so the LORD has compassion for those who honor him. For he knows how we were made; he remembers that we are dust. As for mortals, their days are like grass; they flourish like a flower of the field; the wind passes over it, and it is gone; its place knows it no more.
But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who revere him, and his righteousness to children’s children, to those who keep his covenant and remember to do his commandments. The LORD has established his throne in the heavens, and his kingdom rules over all. (Psalm 103:8-19)
That’s a bracing message for any nation.
Too often we worry that, if we tell our children about our complex and sometimes dark history, they’ll emotionally swoon and collapse under the heavy weight of debilitating shame.
But instead of lying to our children and grandchildren (and to ourselves), instead of writing-off millions of lived experiences of trauma and terror, let’s invite our kids to accept an assignment that demands the best of them – and the best of their parents and grandparents, their siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles; the best of all sinners and saints of certain ages.
Together, let us seize the power of the Holy Spirit and close the gaping breach separating our ideals and practices.
This is the gift that the past offers us: A chance to flee old evils and pursue new goods. To riff on the thoughts of a friend and colleague in ministry –
When the bombs are no longer bursting in air,
when the flags have been properly stored,
when the firecrackers cease their cacophony,
when the apple pie is all tucked away,
when the next day rolls around,
the work of the disciple-citizen begins:
To live out the truth that all people are created equal,
to enable the dream of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,
to ensure prosperity for our children,
to acknowledge the harms of the past,
to commit to a more just future,
to let freedom ring,
to lift every voice and sing.
And thus concludes Psalm 103 –
Bless the LORD, O you his angels, you mighty ones who do his bidding, obedient to his spoken word.
Bless the LORD, all his hosts, his ministers that do his will.
Bless the LORD, all his works, in all places of his dominion.
Bless the LORD, O my soul.
Amen, and amen!
Pastor Grant M. VanderVelden shared this message during worship on Sunday, July 5, 2026, at First Presbyterian Church in Waukon, Iowa, USA. Scholarship, commentary, and reflection by Brian Lyman, Esau McCaulley, and Beth Merrill Neel inform the message.