The Revolution Isn't Over

I’ve been spending a lot of time with the Revolution lately.
Not the metaphorical one. The literal one.

It started with a move. I now live in a state that was the seventh to join the Union, next door to the capital of the nation it helped build. The very beginnings of our country (indigenous lands, early settlements, revolution-era roads) are all around me.

Then came a request from my daughter, who asked if I would teach my oldest grandbaby American History (we homeschool).

Absolutely.

Which is how I found myself down the rabbit hole of thick books, local events, and all the museums I could find, trying to piece together the parts of the Revolutionary War I never fully understood. I’d absorbed the public-facing version, you know, the Boston Tea Party, Paul Revere’s ride, redcoats and minutemen, but little of the context.

So I picked up Rick Atkinson’s stunning trilogy. I re-visited Mount Vernon, often and with fresh eyes. And now, I’m counting down the days to Ken Burns’ new documentary on the war.

And somewhere along the way, something shifted.

“The American War is Over…”

In January 1787, Benjamin Rush, physician, signer of the Declaration, and lifelong reformer, gave a speech that really resonated with me when I read it. He stated, “The American war is over; but this is far from being the case with the American Revolution.” He argued that the war was just the start, not the end. The real revolution was ongoing: building a government, shaping a people, defining what freedom would actually look like.

And this morning, as I read the news—again—I found myself circling back to Rush’s words.

Because it still isn’t over.

An Ongoing Revolution

We are a country in the middle of yet another reckoning. It shows up in our politics, our schools, our policies, even in our own families. Rights we thought were protected are being chipped away. Truths we believed were “self-evident” are anything but, and across the country, I hear people say,“ I can’t believe this is happening in America.”

But I can. Because the revolution was never meant to be easy, and it was never finished. In an interview, Ken Burns pointed out that the most important part of the Declaration of Independence isn’t the fireworks, it’s the second sentence: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal…”

But those truths were never self-evident. They weren’t in 1776. They aren’t now. Not when your access to life, liberty, and happiness depends on your ZIP code, your race, your record, your gender, your religious beliefs, who you choose to love, or your age. They aren’t self-evident because they mean something different to each individual.

American Justice and the Revolution of Redemption

Right now in Washington, D.C., there's a push to repeal the Incarceration Reduction Amendment Act (IRAA)—a law that allows people who committed serious crimes as youth to petition for early release after serving significant time. This isn’t soft-on-crime legislation. It’s smart, measured, and deeply researched. It recognizes that youth are capable of change. That science has caught up to common sense: brains develop, maturity evolves, redemption is real. Yet some leaders want to erase it, weaponizing isolated tragedies to justify sweeping rollbacks.

Across the country, cities and states, mine included, are actively working to roll back second chances for young people in the name of “public safety.” We’ve already been down this road, and it didn’t produce the results we wanted. So, why are we going backwards? This isn’t about justice. It’s about control, and it echoes the national wave of “tough on crime” nostalgia that’s picking up steam, despite all evidence that incarceration doesn’t solve the problems we’re facing.

So, How Do We Navigate an Ongoing Revolution?

We remember Benjamin Rush.
We remember that real, equitable democracy is messy and unfinished.
We keep teaching.
We keep resisting.
We keep making room for the kind of justice that heals instead of harms.

Because this work, whether it’s in the classroom, the courtroom, or the community, is revolutionary.

It’s revolutionary to believe a young person is more than their worst decision.
It’s revolutionary to teach history that includes everyone’s story.
It’s revolutionary to center rehabilitation over revenge.

And it’s revolutionary to keep going when the road bends backward.

We’re Still Becoming

The American Revolution wasn’t a moment. It was a mission, and it’s one we’re still called to fulfill.

So yes, teach the Revolution, but also live it. Stand for it. Finish it.

Because every time we defend second chances, protect vulnerable rights, or help shape the next generation with clarity and compassion, we’re carrying the revolution forward.

See you next Sunday. ☕