What to the Christian is the Fourth of July?

This July 4th is different. Independence Day 2026 marks the 250th anniversary of the United States of America as a sovereign nation. Millions of Americans will celebrate the day with fireworks, backyard barbecues, community parades, and patriotic festivities. All of this is well and good. Patriotism, rightly ordered, can be a Christian virtue. In the Gospel, Jesus reminds us to “render therefore unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s, and unto God that which is God’s” (Matthew 22:21). 

Yet for Christians, the Fourth of July is neither an occasion for uncritical celebration nor cynical despair. It is an opportunity to give thanks for the blessings of liberty, to repent of our national failures, and to recommit ourselves to the work of justice and the common good. 

There is much in the founding principles of this nation to admire. Chief among them is the Declaration of Independence’s admonition that “all men are created equal.” From the outset of the Revolution, the Founding Fathers planted a seed that would become the cornerstone of the American project: the belief that all human beings possess inherent dignity and inalienable rights. All Americans—indeed, all people the world over—should embrace this principle. The flourishing of humanity depends upon it. 

Yet while the principle of equality was present from the beginning, we all know that the man who wrote those words, Thomas Jefferson, was himself a slaveholder, as were many of his fellow signatories. Most of the first dozen presidents owned fellow human beings, and the nation they founded perpetuated the enslavement of Black Africans and the dispossession of Indigenous peoples. This demonstrates another hard truth about the American Republic, every bit as real as the words of the Declaration itself: America’s commitment to equality and human rights has always been imperfect and contested. 

The story of America is therefore a story of fits and starts—glorious moments of liberation followed by eras of backlash. Reconstruction gave way to Redemption. The triumphs of the Civil Rights Movement were followed by new forms of division and exclusion. Progress has rarely moved in a straight line. 

As an African American born at the end of the Cold War and raised only a generation removed from legal segregation, I have often lamented the era of polarization and retrenchment that has colored much of my adulthood. Many Americans today also fear that our rights, freedoms, and democratic norms are becoming increasingly fragile. The foundations of modern American prosperity and social progress seem under assault from every direction. 

Where, then, can we turn for hope? 

For Christians, the answer is the same as it has always been. We are a people acquainted with exile, lament, and disappointment. The Scriptures are filled with stories of God’s people enduring setbacks, wandering in the wilderness, and longing for deliverance. Yet they are also stories of perseverance and hope. The God who delivered Israel from bondage and raised Christ from the dead specializes in bringing life from situations that appear hopeless. 

Still, it can be tempting to conclude that America is not worth fighting for. Many ask: What is the point of loving a country that has so often failed to love people like me? That sentiment is understandable. Americans have shown remarkable capacities for exclusion and cruelty throughout our history. It is entirely reasonable for those who have experienced such marginalization to question their place in the American story. 

But why didn’t Frederick Douglass turn away? Why didn’t Harriet Tubman? Why did Ida B. Wells believe America was worth the trouble? Why did the Tuskegee Airmen risk their lives for a country that often treated them as second-class citizens? Why did Martin Luther King Jr. continue to call America to account rather than abandon it altogether? 

I think these men and women knew the seed planted in 1776 was real. They believed in those principles deep within their souls. They had faith not only that America could one day live up to them, but that they themselves were called to help move the nation closer to their realization. It is no coincidence that many of these figures were deeply shaped by their love of and devotion to Christ. 

As Christians, our ultimate allegiance is not to a president, a Congress, a political party, or even an earthly nation. Our faith is in Jesus Christ. We know that Christ is a God of liberation—one who identifies with the marginalized, the forgotten, the dispossessed, the stranger, and the oppressed. His ministry was a proclamation of good news to those on society’s margins and a challenge to systems of injustice. 

His example was the model for Douglass, Tubman, Wells, King, and countless others. It should be our model as well. 

As disciples of Christ, we are called to see in our neighbors what God sees in them: sacred dignity, inherent worth, and immeasurable value. We are called to seek justice for others as we would seek it for ourselves. We are called to love our neighbors not merely in sentiment, but through action. 

When contemplating my own complicated feelings about my country, I often return to the words of St. Paul in Philippians 3:20: “Our citizenship is in heaven.” That verse places everything else in proper perspective. It reminds us that no earthly nation can ever be the Kingdom of God. Every nation falls short. Every nation requires repentance. Every nation stands under God’s judgment and mercy alike. 

And yet, because our citizenship is ultimately in heaven, we are freed to engage our earthly citizenship with both honesty and hope. We can celebrate what is good without ignoring what is broken. We can love our country without worshiping it. We can criticize it without abandoning it. 

What, then, is the Fourth of July to the Christian? 

It is a day of gratitude for the blessings of liberty. It is a day of repentance for the ways we have denied that liberty to others. And it is a day of renewed commitment to the unfinished work of building a nation that more fully reflects the dignity God has bestowed upon every human being. 

As America marks its 250th birthday, I choose hope. I choose to continue fighting for my country, come what may. A million setbacks will not stop me from fighting for the day when the truth that “all men are created equal” is not merely beautiful language on a centuries-old parchment, but the lived reality of every person in this land. 

I hope you will too.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Rushad Thomas (he/him) serves as the Domestic Policy Advocate at the United Church of Christ Office of Public Policy & Advocacy in Washington, D.C.