Trail of Tears

       During the “reign” of our seventh president, Andrew Jackson, Native American people were persecuted, and faced being driven off their lands.

      Jackson decided that there was no place, east of the Mississippi, for people of Indian origin.

      It so happens that my ancestors, on my father’s side, fought against bands of Native Americans. My triple-great and double-great grandfathers, “good Scotch-Irishmen” were members of the Georgia Militia; a forerunner of the National Guard, from which I, myself, retired.

     Five tribes, including the Creek, Cherokee and Seminole nations were in imminent danger of losing their ancestral lands. But rather than fight a regional war, these “noble savages” took their case to The Supreme Court. They won… and lost. For you see, Pres. Andrew Jackson refused to recognize the decision of the court.

     And from this sprang what has been referred to as “The Trail of Tears.”

     Except for a few renegade Indians, (Cherokees who fled to the mountains of North Carolina,) thousands of Native Americans were rounded up, and forced to march towards the western territories. A full one-quarter of these unfortunate souls died during the expedition. It’s both interesting, and sad that some of my mother’s people, of Creek or Cherokee origin, were participants on that grueling march. For I am a descendent of mixed ethnicity.

     Sometimes I find myself almost struggling within myself, as I consider that era. For I find myself trying to understand the perspectives of both these ancient cultures. And I regret that they couldn’t “just get along.” My very facial features speak of that blending of two seemingly contradictory races of people, and I wonder what old Isham Mc Donald would think of me.

      But very much like The Trail of Tears, and those unfortunate Native Americans; as Christians we are also “pilgrims on the earth.” Suffering is often our lot, and we cannot stay here. Though eternal joy, peace and rest await us, very few of us are in any particular hurry to leave the life we know behind.

     But I am glad for the promises of scripture, and I am fascinated with what I am given to understand about the Eternal City. How beautiful it must be. How wonderful it must be to live there.

      And I am thankful that, at the moment of my repentance, my eternal life began. Jesus has gone to prepare a place for me, and I know that I shall receive a mansion that has no equal on this earth.     

     There are those among us whose life has overwhelmingly been a “Trail of Tears.” But we serve a God who stores up our tears in a bottle. He is mindful of our confusion, disillusionment and pain.

     And that trail of tears must very soon yield to the glories of heaven itself.

 

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "Unconventional Devotions" Copyright 2005