Contemplation

I fled Him down the nights and down the days

I fled Him down the arches of the years
I fled Him down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind, and in the midst of tears

Francis Thompson (1859-1907), British poet. The Hound of Heaven

            It was after my active military service that I was able to practice my profession for a while, getting well established in the community in many ways-- public speaking, civic activity, etc.

            I was eating supper, alone, in my favorite barbeque restaurant in Goldsboro, NC. A black man, Adam Scott, during the cruelest days of racial discrimination, had opened a large restaurant to the public. The last time I was there, in the city, attending a funeral, since most of his employees were former patients of mine, he had everyone, including the kitchen staff, come out to greet me. (The last time this happened it was in India, Udaipur, when I had complimented the chef on the meal and service and he had the entire kitchen staff come out to greet me.) I saw small elderly woman eating alone at a table and I recognized her as my third grade teacher. I thought, "She won't remember me. Why should I bother her." But, I walked up and said to her, "Miss Collier, you were my third grade teacher."

            She said, "Thomas, sit down. You look just like your mother." I was complimented because my mother was a beautiful woman. I reminded her of the glass bottles, each filled to a different level, where she taught us about the tones of music. Towards the end of our visit, with tears running down her face, she said, "You have made it all worth while. This is the best day of my life."

            

           Not many months after that, on another occasion, I saw someone who was a distant memory. She had driven the "Book-Mobile" to our poor community. My mother would walk with my sister and I down to the crossroads where my cousin, Bagley, had a country store. My mother was anxious for us to get books each week, when the woman came with her truck of books. I still remember the book that made such a impression on my life-- T-Model Tommy, a book about a boy in poverty, who started a trucking business, with just one truck, proving that anyone, with hard work, can become successful. Again, she remembered my cousin's country store and the years of the "Book-Mobile." And, again with tears running down her face, she said, "You are the first one to thank me. You have truly made my life worth-while."

            It is very difficult to talk to tombstones. So often, we wait too late to say, "Thank you." Made in the image of God, we are wired to love God and one another.   

And he answering said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself.

Luke 10:27

            The devil, and a third of all the angels in heaven were kicked out of heaven because of pride and their inability to love. Our ancestors, Adam and Eve, chose a spirit of death and ingratitude, rather than a spirit of life and love. And so it persists until this very day-- so many hate. They have just been released, thousands of photographs from the latest war, 26,000 images of Syrians-- strangled, beaten, and starved.

            When this writer and world traveler was in Pisa, Italy, I could not help but think of Galileo, standing on the outside (baptistery of the cathedral) of The Leaning Tower, gazing on the heavens through his home-made telescope-- the religious leaders would not look through it. And, most of the stars, which atheist astronomers look at today, are probably just reflections. But, it costs so little to give respect and dignity to others. Like the great jurist said, "You know it when you see it."

            In the poverty of an Eastern North Carolina tobacco farm, while hanging the sticks of green tobacco in the curing barns, my hard-working father would always precede his sons and workers to the top of the barn, so that if anyone fell, it would be him-- like real leaders in the military always preceding troops in battle. The communists have learned to kill officers, particularly doctors and other medical officers.

            In a world of technology, some things remain the same. An African boy will snatch a honey bee. To an appendage of the bee, he will attach a hair, and in turn, a white feather to the hair. He lets the honey bee go, and then, he and his friends, running through trees and bushes, follow the white feather, to a deposit of much-wanted, desired honey. Evolutionists have never been able to explain the magnificent science of honey production. 22,700 bees are required to fill a single jar of honey, an astounding feat. Over a year the queen will produce between 100,000 and 200,000 bees that will each spend between 10 and 20 days collecting nectar. And, we think we are so smart. God told us to think of an even smaller animal, the ant, as remarkable as the honey bee -- think of what the two spikes on an ant's back can accomplish.

Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise: which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.

Proverbs 6:6-8

            My life has been involved with the study of the human body, always wanting to challenge my unbelieving doctor friends to explain how and why, when one cries, that, with the same lachrymal gland in the eye, tears of joy have a different chemical composition than tears of sorrow. The mystery of the ages is how a human being's crowning glory, their central nervous system, can so differ, with some having so much love, and others so much hate.

            Of late there is so much news involving the Central African Republic-- I have written about this many times, because I was the first American to enter CAR after the reign of Bokassa. As the first American there, the government hovered over me, so afraid that something would happen. I could not go to a bathroom alone. Bokassa had declared himself emperor of the country and would race up and down the streets of Bangui in a chariot, dressed in the garb of a roman emperor. The authorities wanted me to see his palace on the outskirts of town. They had enclosed the entire area with wire fence and guards. For some reason, they wanted me to see it-- and I had a small amount of vision at the time. Around the palace he had a deep moat, filled with crocodiles. He would feed his enemies to the crocodiles. My guide told me that on the days they had not caught an enemy, they would throw chickens into the moat. He said, "You have never seen so many feathers." Inside his dwelling, he had a large refrigerated room, with hooks where he would hang the female corpses of his enemies. The situation became so atrocious, so internationally embarrassing, that the French sent in troops to clean up their former colony. It appears that such hatred and insanity has resurfaced. We are seeing unbelievable atrocities throughout the world. The great writer, Will Durant, best known for the 11 volume, The Story of Civilization, said "No society has ever survived without moral code." Our blessed Lord, in His book, His manufacturer's handbook, and by His word and His life here on Earth, has told us how to survive, and not only how to survive and prosper here on Earth, but also how to claim an eternal relationship with Him-- the goal is heaven. In today's reality, even in America, the world's richest nation, in the grand scheme of things, when seen on a national economic pie chart of the distribution of wealth, the bottom 40% can barely even be seen. The middle class has dissolved into the status of not being much better than the impoverished. One percent of Americans have 40% of the nation's wealth, which is now about 54 trillion dollars. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmtm9CSLjaQ

            The genius of Christianity is its simplicity, everything a gift. God gave us His son, and His son has given us life. If only we could learn to give the gift of love to one another.