Every July 4th, I remember the family holiday, but really sticks with me is how my grandfather taught me to love America. Others urged me to be angry, but I knew our nation's greatness.
On this 4th of July, I’ve come to a simple realization: I never doubted my freedom as an American. Never once. I always knew I was as free as any other American, no matter their color.
This may not seem to be a significant realization. But when I look back on my life, I can see all the negative forces that tried to make me doubt myself as an American. There were individuals who tried to plant the seed in my head that I should always be angry at America for enslaving and segregating my ancestors.
When I was young, certain individuals told me I was a fool trying to live in White man’s America where freedom was for only the Whites. Even the last dozen years, from Trayvon Martin to George Floyd, I’ve had to listen to how America is a systemically racist nation run by White supremacists who will never see me as nothing more than a Black body.
I never bought into any of that and that is what I’m most thankful for on this 4th of July.
My steadfast belief in America, in her principles and her promise, did not begin in Chicago, where I pastor one of America’s toughest neighborhoods. I grew up in Indiana with my mom and when the 4th of July came around, we would travel south to a small Tennessee town named Kenton. About a thousand people lived there and my grandfather was one of them.
What I loved most about those visits was how he made sure the 4th was celebrated in a big way with family and friends. There were people everywhere — it was such a welcoming and loving community. Sometimes we kids would go looking for one of Kenton’s famous white squirrels. And there was food everywhere, and I never went hungry. When night came, we’d all gather for some of the best fireworks, over the trees, over the town.
But what I remember the most was how my grandfather would wake up in the morning talking about how great America was. This was a man who lived a major part of his life under segregation and who had every reason to be bitter. Yet he loved America and the way he talked about America was so infectious.
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He would look me in the eye and ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. Then he would tell me that I could be anything I wanted to be, there were no limits. But he did tell me over and over that I would have to work for it. Nothing’s free in America, but you have the freedom to work your way into anything you want to be
He walked the talk like no other. He only had a fourth-grade education, but he worked every day of his life. He had a lawncare business and when we would ride around town, he’d proudly point out the perfectly manicured lawns he took care of. He also bred bloodhounds, some of the best in the South. The man just worked, and he didn’t know himself without work.
My grandfather raised a family in his house, four boys and four girls, including my mother. He always provided and never came up short. He gave them all the best chance to make something out of themselves in America.
The one thing that I noted as a youngster was how people around the small town respected my grandfather, Black and White. They all called him Mr. R.B. It made me proud to stand next to him.
My grandfather is no longer with us, nor is my mother, but I always carry their pride in and love for America with me. I preach her virtues every day in my community and, like my grandfather once did with me, I ask the young ones what they want to be when they grow up, what is their American dream?
It is true what they say about America and her dream being an idea. It really is all so fragile, so susceptible to bad faith, especially in my neighborhood. That is why I see it as my duty to honor my grandfather by keeping the soul of America alive in the streets every day. And that is why I so proudly celebrate the 4th of July and the greatest country to ever exist.
