Country: (n) a state or nation

I just downright don’t like the premise.

For you see, a quick look at the map of the world certainly does not distinguish insurmountable barriers that would dictate as many countries as we have conjured through our typography.

After all, most rivers don’t forbid people from crossing.

Mountains have been known to be climbed.

And nowadays, oceans are crossed with barely enough time on the airplane to serve soft drinks and peanuts.

Why do we need a country?

Why is it necessary to isolate this land mass as having this particular group of people, which follows a predetermined philosophy or form of government, and declare their sovereignty to such a degree that they are willing to go to war over violations of air space?

Perhaps it’s wise that the only way to truly cure insanity is to voraciously point it out whenever you encounter it. Otherwise, pretty soon it starts making sense to you—and by that time, you’ve hopelessly lost your ability to change the world.

I love my country.

But not because it’s located in the continental United States.

Not because I think Americans are exceptional and better than other people in the world.

No, I love my country because we espouse the principles of equality and freedom, which were hatched in the mind of the Creator when He first sat down and considered His opening line:

“Let there be light.”

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