I see these flags, and I am flooded with gratitude for the opportunity to know a God of boundless affection, and to live in a nation of boundless possibility. But I also see these flags, and I know, daily, that they are a call to confession and repentance. The blood spilled at Gettysburg and Antietam, Normandy and Selma are spilled in vein, each time our discomfort, our pride, our privilege silence our voices and stymie our advocacy for the unwon freedoms of others. The fellowship of bread and cup is too shallow, if it will not welcome others who worship God on different mountains, if it will not replicate the radical hospitality and goodness of the One we claim to follow.