Freedom Is Loud
I’ve never heard freedom before… until I stood on the flight deck of the USS Eisenhower
https://youtu.be/1cmeSvgawfw?is=Qtc24Eka4xF8yCKq
I’ve heard fighter jets before. I’ve watched them streak across the sky at airshows. I’ve seen videos of aircraft carriers launching aircraft into the darkness.
None of that prepared me for standing on the flight deck of the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower.
You don’t just hear it. You feel it!
The deck trembles beneath your feet. The blast of jet engines presses against your chest. Every launch is a carefully choreographed explosion of power, precision, and purpose. It is deafeningly loud. The kind of loud that demands your full attention and reminds you just how small you really are.
Standing there, watching sailors move with calm confidence in the middle of controlled chaos, one thought settled into my mind:
Freedom is loud.
Most of us think freedom sounds like peace and quiet.
It sounds like children laughing in the backyard. It sounds like conversations around the dinner table. It sounds like churches gathering to worship without fear. It sounds like neighbors disagreeing over politics and then waving to each other across the fence the next day.
Those are the sounds of a free people. But they are not the sounds that preserve freedom.
As America celebrates the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, it is worth remembering that our liberty has never been secured in silence.
Its story began with the crack of muskets at Lexington and Concord. It echoed through the thunder of artillery during the Revolution. It marched across battlefields from Gettysburg to Normandy. It roared through the skies over Europe and the Pacific. It flew over Korea, Vietnam, the Persian Gulf, Afghanistan, and countless places most Americans will never see.
Today, it still echoes from the deck of an aircraft carrier somewhere on the world’s oceans.
The sounds have changed. The mission has not.
As I stood on the Eisenhower, my mind drifted to words I’ve sung hundreds of times.
And the rockets’ red glare,
The bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night
That our flag was still there.
Those words are eyewitness testimony.
Francis Scott Key wasn’t watching a peaceful sunrise. He spent the night anxiously searching through smoke, darkness, and explosions for the American flag over Fort McHenry.
Every rocket illuminated the sky. Every bomb briefly pierced the darkness. Every flash answered the same question.
Is the flag still there?
The “rockets’ red glare” and the “bombs bursting in air” weren’t interruptions to peace. They were the terrible sounds required to preserve it.
The same is true today.
The thunder of afterburners on the deck of the Eisenhower is not the opposite of peace. It is one of the reasons peace exists for millions of Americans who will never set foot on a warship.
The irony is almost beautiful. The loudest places on earth often exist so the quietest places can remain quiet.
Tonight, many of us will gather with family and friends to celebrate Independence Day. We’ll watch fireworks illuminate the night sky. Children will laugh. Neighbors will grill hamburgers. Churches will pray. Families will hug. Flags will wave.
Those are wonderful sounds.
But they are possible because somewhere, someone is making a different kind of noise.
Someone is standing watch.
Someone is launching into the darkness.
Someone has willingly accepted extraordinary responsibility so the rest of us can enjoy ordinary life.
As we celebrate 250 years of American independence, may we never confuse the quiet blessings of freedom with the noisy sacrifices required to protect them.
I’ve never heard freedom before…
Until I stood on the flight deck of the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower.
Now, every time I hear a fighter roar overhead or sing the words of our National Anthem, I’ll hear something different.
I’ll hear the sound of freedom.
And it is wonderfully, unapologetically loud.
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