Veterans Day Pride

When Americans travel abroad—especially when we leave the tour groups, resorts, and airports—the stereotype of the “ugly American” is often alive and well. Laura and I lived overseas twice during college and grad school—and we’d sometimes cringe to hear fellow Americans our age wearing college sweatshirts, talking 50% louder than everyone else on the subway or asking old shopkeepers and waiters demandingly, “Somebody here’s gotta speak English, right?”

Once when Laura & I were on an overnight train ride in Italy, two young women our age joined us in our train compartment. Within minutes they had stowed their backpacks and changed into nightshirts--right in front of us. (Honestly, Laura, I was looking out the window, not at the reflections in it!) Then they turned to us and began making conversation, asking in perky English where we were from.

“Chicago,” Laura & I said. “And where are you from?” I continued, trying to seem pleasant but not overly attentive after the whole shirt-changing thing.

“We’re from Sweden,” said one of them. Big surprise there, I thought: they’d just whipped off their clothes like kids coming in from a cold, wet snowball fight.

And then, betraying countless meetings with Americans, her young friend added, “That’s a country by the North Pole.”

Ouch. I winced appreciatively—tried not to cry, and said a silent prayer for our country’s future.

But that ugly/ignorant American-image wasn’t the only one we found alive and well.

There was a second, quite different viewpoint of Americans we found almost everywhere we went, especially among the older generations: a deeply grateful, almost admiring perspective on the American soldier. No matter what their politics, most every German, Frenchman, Spaniard, Italian, and Greek we talked to at some point in the conversation or relationship expressed a deep appreciation for the young men who had come from America to liberate Europe during WWII.

Those Europeans knew quite well that our soldiers (now mostly octogenarian veterans) had not just defended their own country, the United States (a valuable but not particularly unique calling across history), but through their sacrifice and the support of the nation behind them, they had literally saved civilization as we know it, one bloody, muddy, intrepid footstep at a time. And that image wasn’t just historical. No, the people of the US Armed Forces, Diplomatic Corps, and other agencies, whom we befriended while living in Frankfurt, Germany, were people with some of the highest character and Christian callings we’d ever met, and they reflected superbly on our country.

I’m proud to be a citizen of a nation that willingly makes sacrifices for others who are weak or in peril—and I thank the veterans who have made that pride in America so easy to feel. There may indeed still be lots of “ugly Americans” overseas (and probably even more who are just poorly educated), but thanks to our armed forces, there are exponentially more selfless, courageous, intelligent, and God-honoring ones, too.

Hopefully a few of them will hop a train up to Sweden on furlough before heading home, too. And try to get a window seat.

5 When Jesus returned to Capernaum, a Roman officer[b] came and pleaded with him, 6 “Lord, my young servant[c] lies in bed, paralyzed and in terrible pain.”
7 Jesus said, “I will come and heal him.”
8 But the officer said, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come into my home. Just say the word from where you are, and my servant will be healed. 9 I know this because I am under the authority of my superior officers, and I have authority over my soldiers. I only need to say, ‘Go,’ and they go, or ‘Come,’ and they come. And if I say to my slaves, ‘Do this,’ they do it.”
10 When Jesus heard this, he was amazed. Turning to those who were following him, he said, “I tell you the truth, I haven’t seen faith like this in all Israel! Matthew 8:5