You Can't Go Home Again

“This is man, who, if he can remember ten golden moments of joy and happiness out of all his years, ten moments unmarked by care, unseated by aches or itches, has power to lift himself with his expiring breath and say: "I have lived upon this earth and known glory!”

Thomas Wolfe

"So here I am today, eighty-five years old! I am still as strong today as the day Moses sent me out; I'm just as vigorous to go out to battle now as I was then!" (Joshua, 14:11).

You must put flesh and blood onto the characters in the Bible. They are as real now as they were then. Caleb, (and his name means dog) and Joshua were two of the spies sent by Moses to investigate the "Promised Land" into which three million Jewish slaves would enter after 40 years of "humbling" in a wilderness. Only Caleb and Joshua gave a positive report on their return, about the country and the 7 cultures living there. The area Caleb surveyed is present day Hebron. These two men had witnessed their salvation in the Red Sea, years of preparation. They were the only two of their age group who were allowed by God to enter the "Promised Land." Caleb was 85 years of age, still enthused about life. This is this writer's 85th year, and some days, I find it very difficult to be enthused about my future on this earth. The North Carolina writer, Thomas Wolfe, from Asheville, in his famous book, said, "You Can't Go Home Again." But, in our memories, we can go home again. We pity the person without memories, without the experiences of life. Life has a way of toughening us. If those who attacked me 25 years ago attacked me now, they would lose their teeth. I have become toughened by the warp and woof, even the entanglements, of living by faith, not sight.

I would like to go back to the home place, walk through that big old drafty house... feel the cold-freezing linoleum under my feet, hear the cows munching grass in the large pasture across the road from the front yard. The greatest delight in this world, to have my mother come into my bedroom, as she did when I was a child, reach under the quilts to make sure that my feet were warm.

God wanted me to sense the world. I have traveled every continent, passport stamped in 157 countries. At the sunset of life, I would still like to hear the buzz, smell the spiciness of the city of Hong Kong. I would still love to hear "Call to prayer" in the great Muslim cities of the world, such as Cairo. I would still love to hear the chatter of shoppers in African markets. Even smell the black bread in the eating cars of the Tran Siberian railroad as I crossed the 13 time zones of Russia. I don't know which I would like to hear more, Big Ben in London or the chimes of the Bell Tower at Chapel Hill? I have a personal handwritten letter from a former UNC, Chapel Hill President, asking me to come up for a visit, he wanted to show me around, all the new buildings and progress.

In a bottomless ocean of technical knowledge, where there is more sickness, poverty, terrorism than ever before in history, how much progress has been made? 8 Around the world trips, sounds and smells, drums and drama, there is much of the past 85 years I would simply avoid. There were beautiful things which I want etched in my memory forever. Beautiful memories of my ancestors, the family church, the school house, BUT, I would like to forget how hard my parents worked. As I saw working peasants in fields around the world, India, China, Burma, etc., I knew that I had come from the peasant class, that my parents were peasants. In a world where Washington, DC refers to one million dollars as one dollar, where 3,000 babies are aborted everyday, where fifty percent of the population of our country will die from cancer. I realize that I have lived in the rapid decline of civilization, that to the uninitiated everything is obscure, they are clueless. In spite of everything we have been here a long time. Every time I flew into New York City, I had chills when I passed the Statue of Liberty, every time I hear the carillons play hymns on a nearby church, I have renewed chills because I realize that so few people comprehend their national and spiritual heritage.

We love our country, but so hate our government... its a hypocrisy, its deceit.

I would like to go home again and even revisit some places but, there are some things that I hope God will help me forget. Long before the present day Afghanistan war, I was at a boarder crossing between Afghanistan and Pakistan. Refugees were lined up, their belongings hung onto their shoulders in large bags. They were in rags, their small children on the icy ground without shoes. Everyday of my life, in my time of prayer in my communion, when I have wine and a small piece of bread, remembering what my savior did for me on Calvary. I pray for refugees and hungry children all over the world. In a world of wealth, where even America is in debt $18 trillion dollars, there are wants and needs beyond comprehension. The carnal Christian cannot understand, they have never been there. Nor, do they want to believe those of us who have been there.

Old people savor everything they know because it is rapidly coming to an end. This writer was sitting on a bench outside the almost demolished Cathedrals of St. Paul and St. Peter near Leningrad, Russia. An old lady, in broken English, told me of how she prepared some rats she had caught to feed her starving children their last meal before their deaths from starvation. Most people in the western world know nothing about hunger and even strife. To date, most Americans do not know about drones dropping bombs on their own cities, they just know about their drones dropping on other peoples cities. Highly developed civilizations can die. It is hard for starved prisoners to remember anything. We can lose everything except our sole.