The Symbol of Change

I didn’t put it there, and I don’t know who did. When we bought our house nearly two years ago, I barely noticed it, and when I did I knew it would never be used. I haven’t used it either, but I have thought and planned at length to remove it as it is not aesthetically pleasing. The screws that hold it to the post are rusting and the metal has been painted taupe to match the trim of the porch. The one inched diameter hole that points to the heavens is usually filled with rainwater or pine leaves. If it wasn’t for the fact that I know removing it would reveal rotting wood, it would have been already

So why would the ugly flag holder on my porch keep me up at night as I ponder my country’s recent history?

I imagine that some time less than eight years back someone took two black screws and tightly mounted it to the post holding the front porch up. And like a child griping their father’s finger, this holder was called to hold firmly a small flag; a flag that proudly waved with millions of others across the county. When strangers passed by they saw solid blues and reds and whites, and they knew that whoever lived inside was hurting too. For the first time in history, millions of people wept, but not one of them did so alone, and that gave them strength and hope.

As the years passed, the child loosened her grip and the waving flag was removed. Others followed suit. The tears dried up and soon we realized that the historic change that moment brought was short-lived. Eight years later, I hate that flag holder because it’s worthless and ugly, and the hole at Ground Zero rivals the one in my heart.

The images of billowing smoke, free-falling bodies, and crumbling towers will be forever remembered, but their impact has already waned and eight years from now no recognizable change will have occurred. I can’t help but feel foolish for thinking that planes tumbling iconic buildings would cause any lasting change. I know it doesn’t take thousands of people dying to change the world, when it took only one.

Centuries ago, a proverbial gnat of a man was pinned on a tree as a symbol of what happens to people who stand to change the state of things. A man who started a ripple that grew to a tidal-wave, effectively changing the course history forever, splitting time into before and after that event. Things still change today because he hangs no more on that tree, the tomb his body was laid in is vacant, and the new life he lived and spoke of is available to us today if we simply pray, “Lord, my life is pinned to that tree with yours. Show me how to breathe new life so that I might exhale your fresh Spirit in this world.”