The year was 1993,
and my wife, and I found ourselves in Lynchburg, Virginia. I was enrolled in a
distance education degree with Liberty University, and was attending my second
and last required residential course.
I am “eat up” with
the Civil War. By 1945 my Great, Great Uncle was one of the few remaining
veterans of that war. He served as Commander in Chief of United Confederate
Veterans, the official fraternal organization, during the middle of the 20th
century.
(My wife and I
have visited at least ten battlefields, and I’m still an inactive member of
Sons of Confederate Veterans, which continues the lineage and tradition of the
United Confederate Veterans).
Wilbur McClain was
a prominent citizen of Virginia during the mid- 1800’s. He had moved to
Lynchburg from Manassas, the site of the first significant battle of the war.
That battle actually took place on his property. Having witnessed this national
shame firsthand, he was determined to move as far away, as possible. The
completely ironic and unexpected occurred. The Civil War ended in his new
hometown, on his property, in his living room!
I could not leave that area without seeing Appomattox Courthouse for myself. It was just a "hop and a jump" from Lynchburg, and Liberty University. My wife and I had visited the site earlier in the week, and had toured the home of that two-story home where Lee and Grant negotiated the surrender. On this very spot two signatures reconciled a divided country.
However, “we took
a notion” to travel there again by night, just prior to leaving the area for
good. Though we couldn’t go onto the site after hours, it just seemed right to
get a final flavor of The Historic.
It was to be a memorable evening for me.
As we neared the property, my wife took a
small item out of her purse, and inserted it into the audio tape deck of our
rental car. Unbeknown to me, she had purchased a copy of authentic Civil War
music that very day. The strains and cords of the music filled our car, and the
emotions I felt then have remained with me to this day!
It was like
traveling back in time. It was so reminiscent of riding in a time machine.
Never in my life have I experienced anything quite like it. It was the next
best thing to being there.
But there are no
time machines. There are books and recordings and videos… and memories, but we
can never really go back. While it’s fascinating to theorize about journeying
back into time, and it’s fun to watch movies like H.G. Wells, “The Time
Machine,” we cannot go back.
It would be
wonderful to hop on one of those theoretical time machines, and set the dial
for such and such a year, and journey back to correct a given mistake, prevent
a certain failure, or talk to our younger selves about God’s mission for our
lives. But sadly,…
it is not possible.
We have to live
with the past. We must find “partial closure” with our singular pasts. There is
a beautiful scripture; “This one thing I do. Leaving the past behind, and turning
to all that God has prepared for me.” (Philippians 3:13, MPV)
God has the power
to forgive, and we are not bigger or better than He. Perhaps the most difficult
choice in life is to forgive one’s self. None of us have lived to our fullest
potential, and we have all done things that have sorely displeased the Creator,
and took us further away from His best plans for us. But the Supreme Judge
declares us “Not Guilty,” and just who are we to question His verdict?
Forgiving self is
a choice. Forgiving self may start with saying it aloud; “Self I forgive you.
You are released from my retribution.” Forgiving self or others does not depend
upon a certain feeling.
No, we cannot jump
on the nearest time machine, and intervene just before “everything fell apart,”
but we can redeem the time left to us. We are on a mission, and nothing must be
allowed to deter us.
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