The Reason for Remembering

Last week, I had the delightful privilege of touring the United Sates Capitol. It was my third visit, and each time I spend inside its ornate walls I am inspired to learn more about our American heritage. The Capitol is an architectural encyclopedia of our history, a treasure trove of America’s most precious jewels.  Its grandiose paintings depict our greatest epochs. Its dignified statues bring our greatest heroes to life. And its intricate inscriptions memorialize the best of our ideals. In short, the Capitol is a monument, a memorial for all we have been, so that the living who walk its halls won’t forget from where they’ve come.

But that is not all. To not forget something is only half the reason for remembering. If those who daily pass by those grandiose paintings, dignified statutes, and intricate inscriptions simply acknowledge their existence, fondly saying, “Isn’t that magnificent!” then the point of them is lost. For what use is it to see that magnificent painting of the Signing of the Declaration of Independence unless it inspires the observer with new fervor to advance the ideas written in that document? What good does it do to simply see the faces of George Washington, James Garfield, or Dwight Eisenhower and say “Ah yes, they were great men” unless the observer seeks to follow in those great men’s footsteps? When we see Patrick Henry’s words, “I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided and that is the lamp of experience” above the doorway of room H120, do we agree with him? Do we draw from the experiences of our forefathers in shaping the course our nation now takes?

Today is another kind of memorial. It is a day set aside to pay tribute, as President Lincoln said at Gettysburg, to our “honored dead.” Throughout the land today, in cemeteries and in solemn ceremonies, the fallen men and women of our armed forces will be remembered. And so they should be, indeed they must be.

But I wonder. Just as with our Capitol. Remembering isn’t enough. There must be a reason for the remembering. There is no real honoring of our noble heroes if we do not continue the fight for which they laid down their lives. And what is that fight? I’ll let President Lincoln remind us:

It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here, have, thus far, so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

The reason for remembering is to inspire us to preserve and advance the freedom we have been given. Otherwise, our Memorial Day tributes are meaningless. Something tells me that those we honor wouldn’t want it that way.

A Legacy to Keep

Americans commemorate Memorial Day with barbeques, parades, and gatherings with family and friends. In my growing-up years, the holiday typically found our family on a day hike, enjoying the grandeur of God’s creation in the Pacific Northwest. But for far too many of us, the day passes without reflection on its intended purpose: honoring those who gave “the last full measure of devotion” in service to their country. Since the first humble minutemen, whose blood was spilt on Lexington Green in 1775, American soldiers have willingly given the ultimate sacrifice to ensure the continued legacy of "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" to future generations of Americans. Today is the day we remember them.

Sometimes I become discouraged and even doubt if the ideal of true liberty, the philosophy of limited, constitutional government, and the notion of a nation grounded in Biblical law and morality, is worth fighting for. Perhaps those principles just aren’t worth the cost.

            

But then I wonder...what would I say to the Continental soldier at Valley Forge, with his bloodied feet leaving scarlet footprints in the snow, his tattered "uniform" barely giving him the slightest protection from the elements, and his life hanging by a thread? What would he say to me, if he knew that two centuries later I would so casually give up the principles for which he fought and bled—the dream of liberty to which he so tenaciously clung in the war's darkest hour?

            

What would I say to the defenders of Ft. McHenry who, during the war of 1812, gallantly flew the Star-Spangled Banner in defiance of the British fleet bombarding them through the long night? What would I say to the “honored dead” of Gettysburg, Blue and Gray alike, who valiantly struggled for the American ideals of freedom and justice? What would I say to the U.S. Marines whose blood stained the sands of Iwo Jima as they fought to preserve what the men at Valley Forge had died to create? 

What would I say to my own grandfather, who faithfully flew reconnaissance missions for the U.S. Navy off of Alaska's western shores to ensure his country's safety during the Second World War? And what would I say to Navy Seal Caleb Nelson, a man I knew personally, killed in Afghanistan in 2011, leaving behind a wife and two young sons? 

No, I could not, and as Americans, we must not be so ungrateful, so flippant, so callous, as to toss aside the legacy of freedom and liberty that these patriots, and millions of others, have given us at the cost of their very life's blood. We must be grateful sons and daughters who remember what our fathers and mothers have given us, and in turn give our utmost to see that their legacy is continued.

So please, thank the Lord today for these brave Americans of our day and of times past, who have given us the "new birth of freedom" we continue to enjoy. And may God give us the courage and commitment to see that their legacy lives on.