In Oklahoma, you can’t drive five minutes without catching a glimpse of an oil well. In downtown Washington, d.c., you can’t walk five minutes without stumbling across a monument.

Humans build monuments as calls to remembrance. Large or small, monuments are designed to invoke the past—memories of historic trials and triumphs, failures and successes, defining moments and great individuals. Whether it’s the headstone over a grandfather’s grave, or a legendary national memorial, monuments remind us of our dna. Of who we are and where we came from. Of what we have overcome and accomplished, and the journey of sacrifice and commitment undertaken to arrive at where we are today.

But strolling through d.c. in the closing weeks of 2010—with the WikiLeaks saga still raging, a post-midterm Congress paralyzed by division, an economy in shambles and a public deeply unsettled and frustrated—America’s most famous landmarks became something else: poignant reminders of what America has lost.

Take the Lincoln Memorial. Inscribed in the stone wall above the stately monument is a touching note memorializing the man who “saved the union.” The Civil War remains the blackest moment in American history. This memorial is an inspiring reminder of how America survived: It was thanks largely to the quality of character and strength of leadership of America’s 16th president, the great emancipator, Abraham Lincoln.

But peering through those Doric pillars in 2010, with the United States clearly experiencing another dark moment—one that stands to get a whole lot darker—the reality dawns: This is exactly what America lacks. America needs another emancipator—someone to free it from economic depression (individually and collectively), from political paralysis and, most of all, from its self-imposed moral and spiritual incarceration to lawlessness and relativism.

Alas, no one is stepping forward!

Similar thoughts come to mind standing in the shadow of the Washington Monument, and the Jefferson Memorial, and the fdr memorial, and the Iwo Jima memorial, and the World War ii memorial. It’s impossible to look at these monuments, and the history they embody—the tales of bravery and courage, the moral uprightness, the national pride and ambition, the willingness to sacrifice—and not realize that there is a gargantuan dearth of these qualities in America today.

Each monument is a painful reminder of what America is not!

In America today we love to take stock of the present, compare it to the past, and then admire ourselves for what we’ve accomplished—for our moral, political and technological progression, for creating a new age of culture, sophistication and advancement. But walking the streets of Washington, d.c., being reminded of this country’s beautiful history, all I could think about was how far America has regressed. About what this nation has lost, and forgotten—and in many cases today, what it has come to actually despise!

It’s true the behemoths of the past were not without flaws. Vanity is the bane of the great, and many of these men had it in spades. But standing before these monuments, recalling the history, one is reminded of what special and unique specimens they were. Of their profound depth of insight and wisdom, of their clarity of moral vision, of their indomitable strength of will and driving purpose. Of their abiding love for America and driving desire to see it succeed in the world. Behind each monument is the story of an individual, or collection of individuals, who served America more than their own ambition.

Today, these qualities are virtually extinct!

Over two days last week I also lugged my children through three museums: the Air and Space Museum, the Natural History Museum and the American History Museum. The Smithsonian complex is fantastic: clean, well-designed, easy to navigate and filled with—to borrow a fabulously original term from my 7-year-old—“cool” artifacts of America’s rich and glorious heritage.

But it conjures similar reflections.

Walking through the Air and Space Museum, one is reminded of when American scientists sat alone on the cutting edge of air travel and space exploration. When nasa, with ardent support from the federal government, invented powerful new technologies, found ways over hurdles and spearheaded the exploration of space. Of course, nasa is still a force in science today. But like so many of America’s institutions (and infrastructure), it’s in desperate need of an overhaul. Mired in bureaucracy and a politically correct agenda, nasa has lost its edge. Like America in general.

Walking through these museums, a person comes face to face with what has been lost. Of what America is not. Of the dearth of a driving desire to bring to the world new technologies and new inventions. America is no longer a nation unmatched in ingenuity and discipline, in intellectual courage. We’ve lost pole position in the global advance of science and technology. Sure, America still has brilliant scientists and continues to blaze paths. But not like it once did.

Hopefully I haven’t made visiting d.c. sound too depressing. It’s true, the monuments are a stark reminder of what America has lost. For those willing to arm themselves with Bible prophecy before visiting downtown Washington, the monuments are also a wonderful source of inspiration: They serve as reminders that America once had the blessings of Almighty God!

The monuments are designed to recall the character and works of men like Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Roosevelt. But ultimately, for those who understand God’s role in the history of the United States, these monuments are a testament to the Higher Power, the Divine Hand, employing these men as instruments of His will. Lincoln was the individual responsible for holding America together during the Civil War. But even he would have told you that behind it all was the hand of God. Point is, the great men and great moments embodied in Washington’s monuments came about as a function of the will of God!

Standing beside these memorials in 2010, the truth is plain. God was once behind this city, this nation, this people—and now He is not.