America...

Revs. Jefferson & Linda Furtado, February 2017

You may have heard me share this story before. I first moved to the United States in February 2001. I was eighteen years old, and, if I am honest, I knew about as much of the world as any other eighteen-year-old. The only real difference was that I had been born on another continent, raised in a different culture, and spoke another language. Entering the educational, cultural, and religious life of the United States was anything but simple.

Although I had studied English in Brazil, speaking it every day among native speakers was an entirely different experience. It took time for my ears to adjust to unfamiliar accents and rhythms. It took time for my brain to stop translating every word before I could understand it. It took time to grow accustomed to a different diet, schedule, pace of life, and culture—one that often felt worlds apart from the place I called home.

Yet, little by little, what once felt foreign became familiar. Eggs, bacon, biscuits, and gravy became normal—and today they even qualify as comfort food, though I am still working on grits. My mind stopped translating. My speech became more natural. The United States gradually became more than the place where I lived; it became home.

In 2017, with financial support from a dear friend and after months of paperwork, government fees, examinations, interviews, and waiting, I became a citizen of the United States. Despite the political tensions and public debates surrounding immigration and citizenship at that time, I was—and remain—deeply grateful for that decision and the journey that led me there.

During the naturalization ceremony, I stood shoulder to shoulder with people from every inhabited continent. We spoke different languages, carried different stories, and had traveled different paths, yet in that room we shared something profound. We were all taking the same oath and becoming part of the same national story.

The federal judge who administered the Oath of Allegiance offered words I have never forgotten. I cannot quote them exactly, but I remember the heart of what he said. The American experiment, as envisioned by its founders, was never intended to be a finished project. It was meant to remain a work in progress. Every generation—and every new citizen—is entrusted with the responsibility of shaping what this nation can become.

I love being an American. I am grateful for the freedoms I enjoy, the opportunities I have been given, and the privilege of participating in this nation’s civic life. At the same time, I am old enough to know that no nation on earth is perfect. Every country carries both moments of greatness and chapters of brokenness. The moment we convince ourselves that the wounds of the past have no bearing on the present, we diminish our ability to build a better future.

As Christians, I believe we are called not only to pray for our nation but also to seek its well-being through faithful civic engagement and through everyday acts of mercy, justice, compassion, and truth. Our allegiance to Christ calls us to rise above partisanship, ideological tribalism, and the temptation to treat political victory as though it were the same thing as the coming of God’s kingdom.

Several years after I moved to the United States, when it became increasingly clear that this would become my permanent home, I was talking with my father. During that conversation, he encouraged me to read the words of the prophet Jeremiah addressed to those living in exile in Babylon.

Many of us know Jeremiah 29:11: “For surely I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord, “plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” But my father invited me to pay attention to the verses that come before it.

There, Jeremiah delivers an unexpected word from God:

“Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters… Multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” (Jeremiah 29:4–7)

The people of Israel were living in a place they had not chosen, under circumstances they would never have desired. Yet God’s instruction was not to withdraw from society, nor to spend their days longing only for what once was. They were called to invest themselves in the life of the community where they found themselves—to build, to plant, to raise families, to pray, and to seek the common good.

There is wisdom here for us as well.

As followers of Jesus, we are citizens of a kingdom not built by human hands, yet we are also called to live faithfully within the nations and communities where God has placed us. Our hope is not ultimately found in any political party, election, government, or nation. Our hope is in Christ. Yet because our hope is secure in Christ, we are free to love our neighbors, seek justice, pursue peace, and work for the flourishing of the communities we call home.

Perhaps that is one of the great callings of the Christian life: to love our earthly home without confusing it with our eternal one; to seek the welfare of our nation while remembering that our deepest allegiance belongs to the kingdom of God.

Happy 4th of July!