While doing my morning’s study I was taken back to a period of time which seem to be a carryover.  I was twelve years old, my brothers and I, having our “Summer Visit” with our father who lived in New York at the time, and as children often do, made friends with the other kids who lived in the apartment complex.  The memory is of this one kid, Phillip, interesting how all of a sudden I can remember his name, having never thought about him in 47 years!  How one day, in speaking with his father, how I called myself “witnessing”, by appointment, with an armful of books and armed with my Bible.  I must have looked a sight as I carried my weaponry, a mere child, going to do battle with a grown man.

Nothing has changed much since that time.  I still go into battle now carrying those books in my head.  I read the Bible at least once by that age, now having read it dozens of times since, and many differing versions.  Still battling with men of the world, reasoning with them from the heart of a child who’s early beginning have set the pace for what would take place in adulthood.

Yesterday, I congratulated a friend who was recently elected and elevated to the ecclesiastical position of “bishop” in his faith.  I commented how I sat with this man in eighth grade science and his response was, “Thank you, Roy.  Continue defending the faith.”  And it made me think how even in our childhood when no one takes us serious, how we’re taken seriously today, but the reason for it has been our early years and how they’ve gone into making us the men we are today.

I had my doubts then even as I have them today, but it does not do away with what I know is truth.  For truth is not depended upon whether I believe it or not, accept it not, teach and preach about it or not, defend it or not, because truth stands by itself.  What would actuate a child to think he was adequate to do battle with a grown man who has had years of seasoning against belief?  I sit back and see myself in my mind’s eye and smile at the thought of how I must have appeared.  One thing I can honestly state, I have never brought a book to a fight without having read it through.  Even then at that age.  And when I compare myself now with then, nothing has changed.

I’m reminded of my friend’s mother, nearly one hundred years old who passed recently.  How she was found to be reading her Bible.  I imagine myself as such.  When all the other books are put away, having gotten what could be gotten out of them, there is only one book which remains the source, the fount of all knowledge still.  And should I be alive then and you know what they say, as we get older we revert to as children, I imagine I will still be going forth to battle with those who are seasoned with years, just as Phillip’s father.

Nothing has changed.


April 5, 2016