But as far as being an American and loving this country and

“But as far as being an American and loving this country and getting a chance to travel across it every day and meeting people on the road and folks in the military, I love this country on so many different levels.” Thus spoke Dierks Bentley, not with the tongue of a statesman nor with the pen of a philosopher, but with the heart of a traveler and a singer. His words carry the warmth of lived experience—the miles of road behind him, the faces of strangers turned into friends, the voices of soldiers who give their strength for the land they love. In his confession, we hear not mere patriotism, but a love rooted in encounter, in travel, in fellowship, in gratitude for a shared home.

When Bentley speaks of loving this country on many levels, he points to a truth deeper than slogans or flags: that the essence of a nation is not only its mountains and rivers, but its people, their struggles, their courage, and their kindness. To travel the land is to see its soul. A man who remains in one place may love his home, but a man who journeys across the breadth of his nation learns to love its diversity—its farmers and its soldiers, its cities and its small towns, its history written in both triumph and sacrifice. His love is not blind, but born of direct encounter.

This love of homeland has echoed throughout history. Consider Walt Whitman, who in his Leaves of Grass sang not of a single city but of the whole expanse of America—its workers, its soldiers, its lovers, its dreamers. His poetry was not a love of abstract ideals alone, but of flesh and blood, of dust and sky. Or think of Abraham Lincoln, who traveled from humble beginnings to the presidency, seeing firsthand the breadth of the land and the hardship of its people. His speeches drew their strength from this knowledge: that America’s heart beats strongest when it remembers the lives of its people.

Bentley’s mention of the military deepens this love. For to meet those who serve is to glimpse the price of freedom, to understand that love of country is not only joy but responsibility. These men and women carry the burdens of defense so that others may live in safety. To honor them is to recognize that a nation’s strength is not in its wealth or its monuments, but in the courage of those who protect it. Thus Bentley’s words remind us that true patriotism is not loud boasting, but reverence for sacrifice and service.

Yet, his teaching also carries a quieter wisdom: that love of country is not found in distance, but in connection. To love from afar is easy, but to travel, to listen, to speak with strangers, to break bread with them—this is what deepens love into something enduring. A nation is not an idea alone; it is a tapestry of lives. Only by walking its roads can one understand its soul. Bentley’s love is therefore not shallow sentiment, but something earned through miles traveled, hands shaken, and stories shared.

The lesson for us is clear: if we wish to truly love our homeland, we must know it—not in speeches or headlines, but in people. Go forth and meet your neighbors, journey to places unlike your own, listen to the stories of those whose lives are different from yours. In doing so, your love will no longer be abstract but alive, not blind but compassionate. A nation is not perfect, but love of country calls us to embrace its fullness, to honor its strengths, and to labor for its betterment.

Practical wisdom follows: take time to travel, not as a tourist seeking distraction, but as a pilgrim seeking understanding. Speak with those who serve, whether in uniform or in community. Learn the history of your land, not only its victories but also its sorrows. And above all, cultivate gratitude for the blessings of your homeland while striving to heal its wounds. For this is the highest form of patriotism—not to boast of greatness, but to build it, day by day, with love.

Thus let Bentley’s words resound: “I love this country on so many different levels.” May we too learn to love our own lands with depth, with honesty, with gratitude, and with responsibility. For in loving well, we not only honor the past—we create a future worthy of those who will one day walk these same roads.