Dear Refugees: I’m Sorry. And We Resist.

I was always proud to be American.

Not in the strange dogmatic way some Christians have become proud of being American. Those Christians seem to think Jesus and the American flag are one and the same. That God has specifically blessed our country because God prefers our country to others. I do think we are particularly blessed to live in this country, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a matter of God’s preference for the United States. Or for me, for that matter.

On the other hand, many followers of Jesus say I should have no allegiance; that I should not pledge to the flag or protect its boundaries, and I’m not sure I buy that either. If America is anything to God, my guess is it’s a beloved — if very broken — freedom experiment. A place where primarily white males people can truly utilize every ounce of potential that God placed in them. Where we could work out grace by being different together. Where we could live out the freedom to praise and worship our God as we see fit, and let others do the same.

At least ideologically speaking. You know. In our heads, that’s what happened.

We are not just permitted, but expected, as Americans, to stand up for injustice. To do so, then, is simply to practice good stewardship of the beautiful bounty we’ve been given, having been placed here in this land. This is why I don’t support flag burners. Not here in the States, anyway. I admit to a visceral reaction when I see people burning the flag, and I know that this is probably conditioned. But my intellect rebels against this act, too. You see, I am a result-oriented kind of person, and I think flag burning is just a stupid waste of time and energy.

I mean, here you are, in an incredibly free country in which you have the right AND the responsibility to speak out about what you see is wrong. Anyone can go and start a PAC or a non-profit group to right a wrong, with a little work, maybe a good lawyer and some discomfort. One of the special things about our country is if you don’t like something, you are empowered to change it. Flag burning, by contrast, seems lazy. At the very least, you could spend that time visiting a senator’s office or feeding a hungry person.

And this is why I’ve always been proud to be American, why I have felt a tug in my heart whenever I imagined amber waves and purple majesties. Our sense of self, at its core, has usually leaned toward good.

Of course, we have always been broken. Our goodness often leans more toward white American Christians than anyone else. We have had our share of atrocities and I do not intend to minimize them. Indeed, I try to use my voice to highlight them. From our Native tribes, to the African people we kidnapped, murdered, tortured, enslaved, and currently kill or imprison at an alarming rate, to the way we have objectified and legislated women’s bodies, to any of the other injustices we have perpetuated, we carry shame. There are some tarnished stars on that flag draped around our shoulders, to be sure.

But the thing that makes me proud to be American is that always, somewhere, you could find a blessed resistance to evil. Somewhere there were always people doing good, and we had the words of our founding documents to back us up. Even if our founding fathers did not practice what they preached back when they wrote those words, they had the basic principles right, and progressives could use them to win the battles of social justice as the years wore on.

There have always been a few scrappy Americans willing to point out where we’re messing it up. And that’s what makes American great, even when we are broken.

Because of that, we’ve been the land you have dreamed of, the safe harbor you longed for. While your children cried because of the bombs, when you had to run from the toxic gas, you thought of us, of this land, and you thought, if only we could get there, we would be safe.

Our reputation as the land of the free was what you knew of us. This week, our new president — who many of us did not want to be our president — decimated this reputation with a stroke of his pen.

I’m sorry.

Please find grace in your hearts for us. We will need it.

And please know that this man who calls himself our president does not speak for so many of us. We are spilling out into the streets and the airports, the social media streams and newspapers, and we are protesting this. The scrappy Americans I always believed in, who want to do good, we are rising. We are resisting.

I know you are in a dire, life-threatening situation, and our resistance does little to help you compared to the effects of his pen. I know our resistance means little if you were denied entry or sent back or kept from returning to what has become your home. But maybe it will give you just enough hope to keep hanging on; just enough hope to keep trying and not give up. To stay alive.

I am hoping my friends from other countries will share this so that you know — Americans are resisting.

The Muslim Ban is not an American value. It is the value of a xenophobic narcissistic megalomaniac who is seriously unhinged, and the American people will use our law to resist.

I am so sorry you were turned away at the airport, just when freedom and safety were so close. I am praying for you. I am resisting.

Please pray for us.  We need it.