When “The Way Things Are” Become “The Way Things Were”

By: Travis Lewis

February 1, 2001

This essay was originally published in the February-March, 2001 issue of REVEILLE.

Being well past the two-score-and-ten milestone in life, I more frequently find my conversation alluding to times unfamiliar to present company. Remembering the childhood irritation when older folks would preface their pessimism toward my generation with remarks like, “Now, when I was a child….”, I now more fully understand their reference. Recalling that irritation, I try, though often unsuccessfully, to take care not to convey those times being as sterile as I otherwise might. I still assume such references usually contend that “the way things were” times were much simpler – and better – than these “the way things are now” times. Frankly, I was skeptical of those arguments then, and remain much so even today.

But memories, both pleasant and not so pleasant, are wonderful gifts of God. Having originated by the camera of a child’s eye, and developed in the darkroom of a child’s mind, these memories can easily remain deceptive throughout our lifetime. One of the truly amazing benefits of age, I suppose, is the opportunity to redevelop those mental photographs of youth and integrate the wisdom gained with the passage of years.

This is a brief, personal review of changes that happen when “the way things are” have become “the way things were”. Hopefully, for us who with age may adopt a more macro view of life, we can see that the way we remember times being may not be the way things actually were. Maybe these few thoughts can alert us that neither the way things were nor the way things are identify the way things should be, which are concluded only by the way God wills them to be, instead of by our volatile feelings and changing customs.

Life was actually simpler then. But was “simpler” necessarily “superior?” Many situations that excited me then mostly fail to do so now. The short-lived excitement of preparing for certain events has long since faded. Those events that stir my excitement are much different now. Here is an example. For my “when I was a child” period of life, the period usually lasting from the middle of July through the middle of August was referred to as “revival time” and was looked forward to with much excitement by families and communities alike. I mean, lots of preparations had to be made. Canning of garden vegetables was in its last throes. Summer session of school was starting, and watermelons were ripening. I was excited with knowing “company” would be visiting from neighboring communities, which meant we would want to be at our best – maybe a new bar of P&G soap, hopefully a couple new packs of Juicy Fruit chewing gum, maybe a new pair of white socks, and a good supply of Griffin shoe polish and Wildroot hair oil. Not exactly exhilarating to me now! That lighthearted excitement has long since given way to an attitude of concern that we mostly wait for these special effort meetings to become really uneasy about souls separated from God.

Another example: The former excitement with the approach of the Christmas season has been replaced with grave concern with why we mostly waited, as we often continue to do, until that season to look for folks in distress, then to only throw out a lifeline and walk away without tying the line to an anchor toward which they may eventually pull themselves toward safety and self-sufficiency. But this takes more time and effort, and often more money and patience, all of which we can ill afford, right?

Though I did not analyze so thoroughly then, I now reflect upon some events with a much more discerning attitude. An example of neighborhood concerns then was who could have pitched out a beer bottle along the roadside, though we did not think long about a fistfight at the voting precinct on election day. Great exceptions were taken from church pulpits to playing baseball on Sunday afternoon, while no questions were posed about firing up a cigarette inside the church house when the benediction was finished. We properly discussed loving our neighbors, helping those in need, and God being no respecter of persons, while demanding those of different skin color use a restaurant side window while we comfortably sat inside.

Some things, however, prove oblivious to the onslaught of time. These properties of life prove trustworthy and immovable as our todays become yesterdays. They are “true north” principles, adopted by the court of heaven in eternity past and fully exemplified by our Lord, Jesus the Christ. As relationships come and go, we often reflect back to the times while they survived, then how they faded or were razed by distrust. Nevertheless, a few endure. The fact still remains that with any friend we make on earth comes a chance we take on being either hurt or made stronger. Relatively few friendships of today survive the test of time’s passage. My personal observation is that only a half-dozen or less become “true-blue”. But those which survive are worth the chances we take. Even the tightest and truest of friendships are often altered by career changes, family priorities, or other volatilities of life as it evolves from one phase to another. One of our greatest dilemmas is to decide between what we no longer need and should be left behind, and what should be retained for future use. Some of our necessities of today will be seen as, and may in fact be, useless tomorrow. Faithful friends are not in that number. These are issues of concern as my sun of life lowers.

Sooner or later, even truest friends will fail for lack of strength. Our earthly possessions will be passed on to eventually becoming points of possible contention between those we love, or to be dissolved and passed to those we never knew. Our positions of employment will be filled by one who thinks he will do a better job – and he very well may. So, what in our lives can be depended upon to remain the same tomorrow? All that lasts will, in some fashion, be related to the examples set and the lessons taught by Jesus. For soon, everything we see with our eye and feel with our hand will slip from our trembling grasp, and each of us will stand alone before God. Then we can finally understand that memory’s most beautiful jewels regarding “the way things actually were” remain standing as “the way things still are”. Ω