On May 6, 1868, as the United States of America struggled to rebuild and unify after a brutal Civil War, the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR) issued the Memorial Day Act, officially marking Memorial Day as a day for the North and South, White and Black, to honor those who died in the war. Also called “Decoration Day,” observers honored the day by decorating the graves of those who died fighting for what they believed in with flowers. It was also considered a religious observance, calling all citizens to pray for peace.

Today is Memorial Day in the United States, and I’m considering the history of this holiday as well as its significance. My grandfather served in the US Army Air Corps in Europe during World War II. My father served in the Army in Vietnam during the Vietnam War. And now my son and daughter-in-law serve as pilots in the United States Air Force, my son having deployed to the Middle East. Although each one returned from their tour of service alive, they didn’t come back unscathed. My grandfather didn’t meet his firstborn child until he was two years old, and to the day of my grandfather’s death, he couldn’t bear to tell us about his experience. Within months of returning from Vietnam, my father was diagnosed with PTSD, a validation many returning veterans didn’t receive. Even my son, still young in his career, has his hard stories.

Each one of my family members bore the hidden wounds of experiences they never wished for. My grandfather and father have since passed, and yet if you could ask each one they would tell you they’d do it again. Although they dreaded war and prayed for peace, they also believed in freedom. They served to protect those they loved and, hopefully, preserve that freedom.

I am proud of their sacrifice and grateful for it. Thinking of them today sobers me. Even so, what I feel toward them pales in comparison to the gratitude I feel when I consider the sacrifice Jesus made to secure ultimate freedom, for all of us.

You see, if you and I lose sight of the true hero of our human condition, we risk worshipping lesser gods. There is only One whose sacrifice purchased a freedom we can’t lose. He gave His life, in excruciating fashion, so we would ultimately live. And He gave his life willingly, without a fight, because He knew the only way to achieve a world without wars was to lay His weapons down. On the day Jesus initiated His mission, He made it clear the kind of freedom He was fighting for:

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me,
because he has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
and recovery of sight for the blind,
to set the oppressed free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
Luke 4:18-19 NIV

Yes, today I honor the lives of men and women who lost their lives in war, not just in the United States but around the world. I will look at the black-and-white photos of my father and grandfather with respect, and I will call my son and daughter-in-law to let them know how much I love them.

Even so, I remain cognizant and tender toward the myriad of ways this world and its wars cut and wound us. Ours is a world in need of healing, a people in need of a freedom we can’t secure no matter how loud we scream or how hard we fight. We need more than warriors or weapons or even our own wisdom can achieve for us.

We need a Savior. Hallelujah, we already have Him.

“Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, saying:

‘To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be praise and honor and glory and power,
for ever and ever!’”
Revelation 5:13 NIV

Amen.

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