brazen giant

Thursday July 4^th, Galatians 5:    25-26 Since this is the kind of life we have chosen, the life of the Spirit, let us make sure that we do not just hold it as an idea in our heads or a sentiment in our hearts, but work out its implications in every detail of our lives. That means we will not compare ourselves with each other as if one of us were better and another worse. We have far more interesting things to do with our lives. Each of us is an original. In the beginning God created all that is and called it good.  The sin of humanity is that we are always trying to rend asunder what God has joined together (Coffin).  When we compare ourselves to others with the assumption that we, or our group, or party, or ethnicity, or religion, or, or, or are better, we are in essence saying that we are a better judge of “goodness” than God.  When we pursue policies that create second class citizens of the world or take away decision making power from minorities or women, we are in essence saying that our view of God is “second class.”  In the end, we say more about ourselves than the other.  God doesn’t do border fences and papers please, whether they be in Berlin, Jerusalem or the Arizona.  Perhaps if we see one another as an original creation of God, and treat one another as an original creation of God, and accept one another as our brothers and sisters through Christ we wouldn’t feel the need for the fences. I often hear the immigration debate sloganed as Illegal is illegal, yes tis true, but so is the phrase ungodly is ungodly and the fails, as it did with the Pharisees in Jesus’ day, with the basic Godly truth, we are all brothers and sisters in the family of God whether we like it or not. Happy Independence Day America, remember most of us came from somewhere else.    On this day let us also remember the poem on the Statue of Liberty and not return to the ways of the brazen giant of Greek fame.

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"