Moses built an altar and called it The Lord is my Banner. -Exodus 17:15
Ever since I was a child, I learned to love it and cherish it as my own…always jointly with the Stars and Stripes. In first grade, we learned what the flag meant whilst memorizing the Star-Spangled Banner, La Borinqueña, and the town anthem that everybody barely remembered except on encendidos, graduations and special sporting events. By second grade, we had to know the barrios of our town (I remember there were eight), go a tad deeper into the meaning of the flag and our coat-of-arms (which, F.Y.I., is the oldest coat-of-arms currently in use in the Western Hemisphere!) By third grade, we had to at least know the basics: how to properly revere both flags, what we had to do and what not to do when the anthems were singing, and this and that.
My flag is really complicated to explain; everybody looks at it differently. One’s perspective about the Monoestrallada says a lot about personal politics. Before 1952, it meant insurgency; proudly carrying it was illegal. After 1952, it defines our allegiance with or without the United States. Some say it represents the last remaining vestiges of colonialism. Others use it as a way to protest our current political limbo (more on that later). Others call the flag as a reassurance of our allegiance to the United States.
For me, I don’t care. My flag is still my flag, the same one I share with four million people.
But there’s something better.
I’m excited to show people about my flag. But not any type of flag. Don’t get me wrong, I love my flag. But what about the Maker and Giver of flags? The world needs to wave His flag, too!