When I was in the 3^rd grade, long before our coal-heated elementary school had an intercom, I remember Mrs. Pirkle, our teacher, would lead us to stand at attention, face the flag, and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. For many Americans, these words roll off the tongue as familiar as the melody of the national anthem: “…with liberty and justice for all.”

We often recite this phrase at school assemblies, civic ceremonies, and public gatherings. Yet in a time when division is deep, and trust is fractured, we must ask ourselves: Do we still believe those words? And more importantly, are we truly living into them?

“Liberty and justice for all” is more than a tagline; it’s a guiding principle. It reflects the highest aspirations of a nation committed to freedom, not just for the privileged, but for every citizen. It is both a pledge we recite and a promise we must embody.

The social contract that binds us together as citizens of these United States is based on the common good of the community, and not the advancement of one individual over another, one class of people over another, or one ethnicity of people over another. Woodrow Wilson contended, “America is not anything if it consists of each of us. It is something only if it consists of all of us.”

To reclaim this belief is to recommit ourselves to a shared vision: a society where opportunity is not determined by zip code, and dignity is not dictated by skin tone, belief system, portfolio size, or political affiliation.

“Liberty and justice for all” is more than a theory; it is an ongoing pursuit. One historical moment that illustrates this pursuit is the courageous action of Fannie Lou Hamer, a Mississippi sharecropper who became a powerful voice in the civil rights movement. After being denied the right to vote and facing brutal opposition, Hamer famously testified before the 1964 Democratic National Convention: “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.”

Her words ignited the conscience of a nation. Hamer didn’t ask for special treatment. She asked that the promise of “liberty and justice for all” include her, too. Her story reminds us that liberty requires vigilance, and justice demands action.

Justice is more than a courtroom verdict; it is a spiritual mandate. Amos 5:24 demands, “But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream.” Justice isn’t confined to verdicts and legislation. It is manifest in the way we provide food, clothing, housing, education, and healthcare to the “least of these.” Justice insists that all people deserve to be seen, heard, and respected, especially the disadvantaged and the underprivileged.

Likewise, liberty is not simply the absence of ethical and moral restraint, but the presence of opportunity coupled with a call to responsibility. It’s the freedom to speak, worship, and live without fear of marginalization.

Coretta Scott King insisted, “Freedom is never really won. You earn it and win it in every generation.”

“Liberty and justice for all” doesn’t end with us; it starts with us. Rediscovering liberty and justice involve both public policy and personal practice. It begins in our homes, our churches, our voting booths, and our daily conversations. It starts when we examine our assumptions, expand our circles, and speak out when the voices of others are silenced.

It begins when a teacher advocates for underserved students. When a community leader ensures fair access to resources. When a neighbor stands up for the rights of an immigrant neighbor. When a local church hosts a refugee family. When your Bible study group or small group gets involved in prison ministry. Or when your mission group sponsors and supports victims of human trafficking.

It continues when we advocate for fair and just legislation to protect and preserve the rights of all individuals, even those with whom we disagree. And when some of our representatives and leaders from both sides of the aisle suffer from rapid-onset constitutional amnesia, we need to vigorously and vehemently remind them that, since we were children, before we knew the difference between a Democrat or Republican, we pledged to pursue liberty and justice for all.

By the way, in the middle of my 3^rd grade year, schools in Alabama were integrated. It was a tense time, especially in the Deep South. However, I cannot imagine a teacher doing a better job of introducing new friends of color into our classroom. Although some of us had been cautioned at home about getting too close to our new friends, once we got to school, Mrs. Pirkle led us all in starting the day with the Pledge of Allegiance.

Across the years, I have preached that we all stand on level ground before the cross, a core belief that determines how I treat others. While buses were being burned and churches were being bombed across my home state, in our little classroom, Mrs. Pirkle helped us understand that we all stand on level ground before the flag, because we are a nation that believes in “liberty and justice for all.”

Independence Day calls us to more than celebration. It calls us to conviction. It calls us to remember that our work is not done when the fireworks fade. We are called to build a future where the final words of our pledge aren’t just recited—they are realized.

And if we are bold enough to believe in “liberty and justice for all,” we must also be brave enough to live and serve in ways that make it true.

(Barry Howard is a retired pastor who currently serves as a leadership coach and consultant with the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife live on Cove Lake in northeast Alabama