I lived in a suburb of Philadelphia in the 1950s. In those early years of elementary school, the neighborhood boys spent most of their days playing cowboys and indians. We knew nothing about political correctness so we used the term “indian,” pointed toy guns and rifles at one another saying, “Bang!” and wore masks to depict ourselves as outlaws. Our parents were not abusive because they allowed us to run around outside unsupervised from mid-morning until supper time. They were following the cultural norm of that day. Frankly, they were just glad to see us getting fresh air, playing with other kids, and most importantly, getting out from under their feet. Generally we carried an old Army canteen filled with water in a WW II army surplus backpack. The canvas pack contained among other treasures a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to be eaten sometime in the afternoon around an imaginary campfire. Frequently we traded portions of our lunch with someone else who seemed to have something more appealing – maybe a ham and cheese sandwich or a chocolate brownie. The question of food allergies was never raised in the trades, just the fairness of the trade. Oddly enough, we went through those days reasonably healthy, and mostly emotionally well-adjusted – although those who know me may question that last description!
Later elementary years were spent in pick-up sports that matched the seasons. The guys in the neighborhood would rush home from school and change into clothes that our mothers had defined as “old clothes.” We then sat on our front porch, clutching the appropriate seasonal sporting gear even if it was just a taped-up baseball bat, unraveling baseball, underinflated football, or a scuffed-smooth basketball. Guys would walk by and yell, “You wanna’ play?” Magically a team of players materialized as we headed to a vacant lot, a less traveled street, a distant school playground, or a neighbor’s driveway that had a backboard and hoop attached to a garage. No adult supervision was there to explain the rules, officiate the game, settle disputes, or make sure we were being fair. We stood in a line, two guys picked team members, and everyone played. Character building took place when you were the last guy picked! I never saw a face mask in a baseball game, a helmet in a football game, or a team shirt in a basketball game. The games were not measured in innings or time. They ended when we were called to supper. In later years organized league programs became dominant in our neighborhood and it seemed that fewer guys played together informally. Was it because we got older or were there other factors? Certainly things changed.Nostalgia has a selective memory. We recall pleasantries we chose and conveniently forget what was less enjoyable. Looking back often simply catalogs change and does not explain the causes nor interpret their impact. Sometime the reason for the change is so obscure we are hesitant to single out one factor as the agent of change realizing it may only be a minute ingredient in the entire process. I suppose one could say, “Change is often easier to see than it is to define or manage.” Perhaps that is why so many are either annoyed or threatened by change. Change confronts the status quo, and offers unfamiliar alternatives which some individuals evaluate as good and others perceive as harmful. The common denominator is that something is different and we react to the alteration.
In today’s world we are facing a rate of change that is unsettling for many individuals. We feel we are in a state of chaos as we adjust to one change only to discover what we have just processed has already changed. According to Dr. David Schilling, until 1900 human knowledge doubled approximately every century. By the end of World War II knowledge doubled every 25 years. It is surmised that now human knowledge is doubling every 13 months. Should our aim be to keep pace with the knowledge explosion or develop wisdom that enables us to process knowledge as it expands? It seems to me that developing wisdom is the best way to process rapid change. Where does that wisdom begin? The Bible suggests that, “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom” (Proverbs 1:7). By way of analogy perhaps we could say that God needs to be both our software and the processor of all the knowledge that streams our way. When we refuse to allow Him to fulfill that role in our lives we may simply be smart people who make dumb decisions.
King Solomon, who was described as the wisest of all of his peers, was a discerning observer of life. He knew he would face changes as he ruled a kingdom. He was wise enough to seek divine wisdom to help him process all this change (1 Kings 3:5-9; 4:29-31). Unfortunately, toward the end of his life, he ignored the wisdom of God and chose instead to live his life by his changing passions (1 Kings 11:4-6). Many have concluded he wrote Ecclesiastes at the end of his life when his wisdom and knowledge had become vanity (1:16-18). He ends the book by challenging youth to learn from his mistakes and, “Remember their Creator in the days of their youth,” and to “Fear God and keep his commandments” (12:1, 13). These admonitions are the key to making adjustments as we process the changes of life. In all of life’s changes we should rely upon the One who says, "For I am the LORD, I do not change (Malachi 3:6 ).
Our childhood experiences are not the only things that change! Life is a series of changes interrupted with an occasional crisis! That is what it is like to live life in a state of change.
