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While on our honeymoon, my new bride and I had an opportunity to meet someone who has never been to America but wishes to in the near future. And though our meeting spanned the amount of time it took her to braid the hair of my new wife, the time we spent talking was far more valuable than hours of conversation spent with an average “dote.”

As many of you know, and perhaps some of you may not, I was married to my beautiful sweetheart this past Saturday (January 31st) and left the following day on a honeymoon to the Western Caribbean. We visited the island of Roatan (Honduras), Belize, and Cozumel, Mexico. The time away was relaxing and I feel that I caught up on some much needed rest; at least for another year. =) While walking the “tourist portion” in Belize, vendors held out their goods for sale and solicited us to enter their stores. We kindly smiled and passed each of them while walking along the cobblestone walkway. When we were approached by a young woman asking for hair-braiding, we immediately accepted (Darlene wanted her hair braided and this was an opportunity; you can see her in braids below).

She quickly took us off the “beaten-path” and we ended up in between two (2) small buildings on top of a pallet carpeted by torn wallpaper and shaded by corrugated metal for a roof. Not an appealing area at best but I kept my mind open and put my faith in her (while remaining alert to our surroundings). While braiding Darlene’s hair, I quickly discovered just how educated she was.

I asked her for her name: “Erica she said, but everyone around here calls me Mama Dreads,” appropriate for the way she had her hair.

I asked her about her education and how she knew English so well (she sounded like an American College Grad with top grades in literature). She was born speaking English she told me and though she had such a command over it, she had no goals to pursue a graduates degree. I eventually turned the conversation towards her native country (Belize) and its political-state.

She shared the history of their democracy and how they are free to vote for their Prime Minister and other public officials. She even spoke of how everyone in Belize loves the government model of America and how they all love new United States President, Barack Obama. I finally asked her, “Are people allowed to own firearms in Belize?” Her immediate answer, “Oh no. The government doesn’t let anyone own guns. They try to put it into your head that owning a gun is dangerous and only criminals own guns.”

She informed me that anyone caught with a firearm will serve a mandatory prison sentence yet voiced her frustration that it only keeps the guns out of the law abiding citizens. She said she even lived in a bad part of town and feared for her safety so often that her cousin was going to help her get a pistol on the “black-market” for her personal protection.

“But you’ll go to jail,” I said to her.

“I don’t care. I’m 22-years old and there’s a lot of bad men where I live.” I felt courageous for this young woman.

She continued by sharing with me the unjust encroachments of the government but people can’t do anything about it. Workers are deported from the country for suggesting formations of a union. Farms and ranches that might compete with the government are shut down and the owners are pushed out of town by the military and local law enforcement.

“Do they have guns?” I asked.

“Yes. They’re the government!” My heart filled with sorrow and I truly wanted to cry.

She finished her braiding and I paid her the going rate and even tipped her an additional amount for the conversation. I encouraged her to go to school to better her education and seek to come to America and become a citizen; legally!

Brothers and sisters, I have come to this conclusion from a dream I had in the past two-weeks and feel even more of a conviction after speaking with this young woman from Belize. It is not liberty if it is not whole. It is not freedom if it is not whole. Even if a sliver of liberty is taken from the whole, then liberty altogether fails. You cannot have freedom, unless it is complete. When Patrick Henry told the Virginia Convention in March, 1775, “give me liberty or give me death,” I really don’t think he was looking for a negotiated freedom. He wanted it all; unbroken, unfettered, and with no strings attached. Said he, “Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!”

I stand with him in saying, “Forbid it. In the name of our Heavenly Father, forbid it!”

May our Father in Heaven have mercy on each of us as we appeal unto Him for our redresses.