History

Bill Webb recently saw his 80 years of life flash before his eyes. It was through his seven grandchildren, who'd found old photos and, heartwarmingly, dressed up as him during different eras of his life—celebrating his birthday, his life, and their love for him.

His 21-year-old granddaughter, Kenzie Greene shared an Instagram post about the event. She said, “He definitely knows how to make all of us feel special and remembers things about each of us.” Kenzie recalls that their grandparents always showed up to their sports and other events to express their love and support.

After retiring, Bill has made the most of his life as a grandfather, spending countless nights playing games, sharing meals, and spending priceless time with them at the family house.

Kenzie and the family wanted to do something special for Pawpaw to show him how much he means to them. They decided to highlight eras from his life. Kenzie noted that “80 years is a long time,” and they had to fit all those years into 7 eras that each grandchild could personify.

For each era of their Pawpaw’s life, each grandchild chose an era that represented a connection they shared with him. For example, Kenzie’s cousin Hutton was really into football in high school, so he represented the “football era” of Bill’s life. Kenzie is currently studying at the University of Tennessee, where Bill also studied, so she naturally chose his “frat boy” era. As each grandchild came out, they announced what part of his life they represented, and then showed him an actual scrapbook picture of what he looked like at that stage of his life.

One commenter on her video wrote, “This speaks volumes about love, legacy, and the strength of family bonds. What a reminder of the beauty in honoring those who paved the road before us. This is the kind of legacy that inspires us all. What a family!”

Over the past few years, Christians have often been warned that we're "on the wrong side of history" in regards to same-sex marriage. Robert P. George, a law professor from Princeton and co-author of What Is Marriage, said:

I do not believe in historical inevitability …. No good cause is permanently lost. So, my advice to supporters of marriage is to stay the course. Do not be discouraged. Do what the pro-life movement did when, in the 1970s, critics said, 'The game is over; you lost; in a few years abortion will be socially accepted and fully integrated into American life ….' Speak the truth in season and out of season …. Keep challenging the arguments of your opponents, always with civility, always in a gracious and loving spirit, but firmly.

If you are told that you are on 'the wrong side of history,' remember that there is no such thing. History is not a deity that sits in judgment. It has no power to determine what is true or false, good or bad, right or wrong. History doesn't have 'wrong' and 'right' sides. Truth does. So, my message to everyone is that our overriding concern should be to be on the right side of truth.

As a prisoner in Nazi death camps during World War II, Lily Engelman vowed that—if she survived—she would one day bear witness to the systematic slaughter of Jewish people. After the war, she emigrated from Hungary to Israel, where she found sewing work in a mattress factory. She married another Hungarian-speaking Jew, Shmuel Ebert, who had fled Europe before the war.

Despite her vow, however, she found herself rarely even mentioning the Holocaust after the war. People noticed the number tattooed on her left forearm but didn’t ask questions. They could never fathom the horrors she had endured, she thought. As for her own children, she preferred not to terrify them.

Only in the late 1980s, spurred partly by questions from one of her daughters, did she begin to open up. Resettled in London, she told her story in schools, in gatherings of other survivors and even in the British Parliament. Once she sat in a London train station and talked about the Holocaust with anyone who stopped to listen. In one video recounting her experiences, she says the Holocaust was the first time factories were built to kill people.

Lily Ebert, who died October 9, 2024 at the age of 100, once summed up her mission as trying “to explain the unexplainable.” But one of her obituaries noted that according to Ebert, words really matter. As she explained, “The Holocaust didn’t start with actions. It started with words.”

The great scientist Albert Einstein said that he stood on the shoulders of James Clerk Maxwell, a Scottish physicist. Maxwell’s insights into electromagnetism laid the foundation for the communication technologies we enjoy today.

In 1873 Maxwell delivered an essay at Cambridge titled “On Determinism and Free Will.” In that address Maxwell spoke about miracles, which he called “singular points.” A singular point occurs within history, but its occurrence is so infrequent and so relatively small that when it occurs, the finite mind cannot grasp its force for change. For example, in 1809 all the world was looking at Napoleon’s vast military exploits. Yet who noticed that a baby named Abraham was born that same year in northern Kentucky in a tiny log cabin? Retrospectively, of course, the world can now see the significance of that hour, which opened up a chance for this ship of state to be guided through the storms and into safe harbor, thereby preserving the Union and freeing those in the bondage of slavery. A singular point.

According to Maxwell, history is replete with these miracles that have changed the destiny of civilizations. A single person, a small group, an idea, a book—all can be points at which the vital moves the massive. We cannot see singular points of history in their origins. We can only grasp their significance years if not eras later.

“Any assessment of history which does not take into account the possibility of miracles is a false assessment of history,” said Maxwell. H.G. Wells named names: “I am a historian, I am not a believer, but I must confess as a historian that this penniless preacher from Nazareth is irrevocably the very center of history. Jesus is easily the most dominant figure in all history.”

Document MS 165, also known as the ‘Shark Papers,’ is a unique manuscript found at the National Library of Jamaica. It tells the enthralling story of the American brig the ‘Nancy,’ implicated in a court case for smuggling, filed by British Commander Hugh Whylie.

Hugh Whylie's vessel, the Sparrow had captured the ‘Nancy’ in 1799 in the waters of the Caribbean (an area that was forbidden at that time for American vessels), on suspicion of smuggling contraband. However, its captain, Thomas Briggs provided documentation to show that the vessel was Dutch and not American, and therefore had authority to sail in that area. He insisted they were not doing anything illegal. Although not having concrete proof, Captain Whylie, on suspicion, nevertheless sent the crew of the ‘Nancy’ to Jamaica for a court hearing.

Since the captain of the ‘Nancy’ seemed to have his paperwork well in order, for a while it looked like the case could not be sustained due to a lack of evidence of smuggling or of the brig being of American origin.

The story took a new twist however with the arrival of another British vessel, the ‘Ferret,’ whose crew had caught a large shark off the Haitian coast around the same time. To the surprise of the crew, they found sealed documents from the ‘Nancy’ in the shark’s belly. They had apparently been thrown overboard to avoid being convicted for smuggling.

The documents taken from the shark’s belly contained receipts, letters, notary documents, and bills from the ‘Nancy,’ and eventually proved vital in convicting Captain Briggs of smuggling and perjury.

Possible Preaching Angle:

In Luke 12:2, Jesus, speaking about the hypocrisy of the Pharisees said, “There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known.” Numbers 32:23 further warns us, “...be sure, your sin will find you out.”

In August 1914, a British scientist and explorer set out from England with a crew of 28 men, intent on accomplishing a spectacular goal: crossing the whole continent of Antarctica coast to coast on foot. The explorer’s name was Sir Ernest Shackleton, and his ship was called the Endurance. Shackleton and his crew never made it to the continent; instead, the Endurance got stuck in pack ice, and eventually sank. The crew was forced to abandon ship.

What followed is one of the most harrowing survival stories of the twentieth century. They spent months floating on ice flows in the Southern Ocean, then their months on a barren, uninhabited island about 800 miles away from civilization, then Shackleton’s desperate journey across those 800 miles of treacherous sea in a lifeboat to South Georgia Island, and then finally a 36-hour-long trek across the mountains and glaciers of South Georgia to arrive at a whaling port. In all, from the moment the Endurance had gotten stuck in pack ice to Shackleton’s arrival at the whaling port, it had been 492 days. Miraculously, not one of the 28 men lost their life.

Shackleton wrote his book in 1919 not only to record their scientific discoveries and retell their wild adventures of survival, but also to express his profound gratitude and admiration for those involved in his rescue.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Testimony; Witness - What we see in Shackleton’s story is the same thing we see throughout the Bible, and the same thing we feel in our own hearts: rescue stories demand to be shared. When we receive a radical rescue, our hearts demand a response. How can we respond to the rescue we have received from God?

From the Roman Empire to the Maya civilization, history is filled with social collapses. Traditionally, historians have studied these downturns qualitatively, by diving into the twists and turns of individual societies.

But a team of scientists has taken a broader approach, looking for enduring patterns of human behavior on a vaster scale of time and space. In a study published in May 2024, the researchers wanted to answer a profound question: Why are some societies more resilient than others?

The study, published in the journal Nature, compared 16 societies scattered across the world, in places like the Yukon and the Australian outback. With powerful statistical models, the researchers analyzed 30,000 years of archaeological records, tracing the impact of wars, famines, and climate change.

The researchers looked for factors that explained why societies in some cases suffered long, deep downturns, while others experienced smaller drops in their populations and bounced back more quickly.

One feature that stood out was the frequency of downturns. You might expect that going through a lot of them would wear societies down, making them more vulnerable to new catastrophes. But the opposite seems to have occurred. They found that going through downturns enabled societies to get through future shocks faster. The more often a society went through them, the more resilient it eventually became.

The decline of the church in America is posing tremendous cultural problems. And sociologists are beginning to sound the alarm.

Once upon a time, America was a land filled with churches, dotting the leafy streets of small towns and major cities alike. In 1965, churches affiliated with mainline denominations, such as Baptists, Episcopalians, Lutherans, Methodists, and Presbyterians, claimed around 50% of the American population. However, by 2020, this number had dwindled to a mere 9%. This dramatic decline is one of the largest sociological changes in American history, impacting institutions that were once central to the nation.

The result is undeniable. We are living in an age of spiritual anxiety. Some mainline Protestants left for Evangelical churches and others for Catholicism. But much of that decline came from the people who simply felt that their politics gave them the moral satisfaction they needed.

As a result, people are desperate for meaning, latching onto fleeting political movements and slogans in search of purpose. And now their children are in the street—without any satisfaction at all. Spiritually anxious, they react to each short-lived bit of political hoopla as though it were the trumpet of Armageddon.

Desperate for meaning, they latch on to anything that gives them the exciting pleasure of seeming revolutionary, no matter how little they understand it or perform actions that meaningfully affect it. Shouting slogans, they ache for the unity of a congregation singing hymns. What Protestantism once gave, they have no more: a nation-defining pattern of marriage and children, a feeling of belonging, a belief in Providence, a sense of patriotism.

The danger in all this comes from the fact that the apocalypse is self-fulfilling. If everything in public life is elevated to world-threatening danger, if there is no meaningful private life to which to retreat, then all manners and even personal morals must be set aside in the name of higher causes—and opponents quickly come to feel they must respond with similarly cataclysmic rhetoric and action.

Jacksonville Jaguars star linebacker Josh Allen has changed his name to Josh Hines-Allen, in tribute to his maternal family. His No. 41 jersey will feature the Hines-Allen name starting the 2024 NFL season. Hines-Allen said, “Legacy is forever, and I’m proud to carry that tradition on the back of my jersey, following in the footsteps of my family.” He aims to honor his family, many of whom are athletes, including his sister Myisha Hines-Allen of the WNBA’s Washington Mystics and other relatives who played basketball at collegiate and professional levels.

Previously, Allen was often mistaken for Buffalo Bills quarterback Josh Allen, notably sacking him in Week 9 of the 2021 NFL season. To mark his name change, Hines-Allen will host a jersey exchange in Jacksonville for fans with his previous "Allen 41" jerseys.

Hines-Allen has had a notable NFL career, tying for second in the league with 17.5 sacks in 2023. In his five seasons with the Jaguars, he has recorded 45 sacks, nine forced fumbles, and 251 tackles. Hines-Allen continues to make a significant impact on the field, now carrying a name that honors his family's legacy.

Possible Preaching Angle:

When we honor those who came before, we honor the God who sustained those ancestors through times of turmoil, trouble, and hardship.

In November 2023, 71-year-old Thea Culbreth Chamberlain was treated to a wonderful surprise from her local movie theater. The thing that took her breath away seemed straight out of a Hollywood tearjerker, but it wasn’t. It was an item intimately connected to her past—something she’d never seen before, yet there it sat, plain as day ... her mother’s wallet.

Floy Culbreth passed away in 2005 at the age of 87. But in 1958, when Thea was just six-years-old, Floy lost her wallet. Inside contained several mementos that served as snapshots of her mother’s life 65 years prior: some raffle tickets, a library card, and a few family photos. At the time, they might not have seemed like much to Floy. But to Thea, six and a half decades later, they were everything.

The wallet's discovery came during renovations of the Atlanta theater when a contractor found it hidden behind the walls. Christopher Escobar owned the Atlanta theater where Floy’s wallet was discovered. Escobar found the name Thea Culbreth written on a reminder card for a dental appointment. After an online search, he contacted the family and arranged a meeting at the theater to return the long-lost item.

Thea said, “I don’t even know how to say how flabbergasted I was. And it took a while for it to sink in.”

Chamberlain says the family plans to get the wallet’s contents framed—a preservation of memories they hope won’t be lost again.

Possible Preaching Angle:

There are many life lessons and wonderful family memories which can influence succeeding generations. We must make an effort to not let them slip away and learn from them.

In his book Forgive, Tim Keller tells the story of a friend of his who was a PhD student at Yale. Keller’s friend once told him that modern people think about slavery and say, “How could people have ever accepted such a monstrosity?” Keller continues:

My friend said, “That’s not the way historians think. They ask: considering the fact it was universally believed by all societies that we had the right to attack an enslaved, weaker people, and since everybody had always done it, the real historical question is, why did it occur to anybody that it was wrong? Whoever first had that idea?”

My friend then answered his own question, pointing out that the first voices in the fourth, 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries who called for the abolition of slavery were all Christians. And the Christian, who called for this justice, believed there was a God of love, who demanded that we love our neighbors—all our neighbors—as ourselves.

Who knew spitting into a plastic tube would become such a popular pastime? Ancestry.com has more than 23 million members in its DNA network and 23andMe boasts more than 12 million customers worldwide. It’s never been easier to track down that great-great-grandmother from Norway.

We’re also watching professional historians do it on television. We tune in to shows like Antiques Roadshow, Who Do You Think You Are?, and Finding Your Roots. Ancestry sells. Genealogy is having a pop culture moment.

But why now? What are we searching for? Genealogist Bernice Bennett says, “There may be some people who are looking to find that they’re connected to Pocahontas, trying to find somebody famous, but you also have others who are saying there’s something missing. Who am I? How can I find that information, and how can it make me feel whole?”

In other words, we’re searching for belonging. We want to recognize ourselves. Our own sense of being and purpose can be reaffirmed when we see ourselves in the generations that have come before us. We are hard-wired for such connection, but many of us feel adrift. Genealogy research and programs tap into an unmet need.

Possible Preaching Angles:

Longing for belonging is an age-old desire. It’s one reason the Bible is chock-full of genealogies that trace the connections between generations of the early Hebrew people. Those who-begat-whom passages that modern readers tend to want to gloss over, were pivotal to an understanding of identity and wholeness in the ancient world.

Abraham Lincoln biographer Jon Meacham notes, “There was no evident political gain to be had for Lincoln [to be anti-slavery]; quite the opposite. So why did he … state so clearly that slavery was unjust?”

Someone close to Lincoln pointed to the following story:

One morning in … the city [Lincoln] passed a slave auction. A vigorous and comely [young woman] was being sold. She underwent a thorough examination at the hands of the bidders; they pinched her flesh and made her trot up and down the room like a horse, to show how she moved, and in order, as the auctioneer said, that “bidders might satisfy themselves” whether the article they were offering to buy was sound or not.

The whole thing was so revolting that Lincoln moved away from the scene with a deep feeling of “unconquerable hate.” Bidding his companions follow him he said, “By God, boys, let's get away from this.”

Meacham concludes, “That experience formed one element of Lincoln's reaction, if not the main one. ‘The slavery question offered bothered me as far back as 1836 to 1840’, Lincoln said in 1858. ‘I was troubled and grieved over it.’”

Possible Preaching Angle:

In the same way, are we today troubled and grieved by the injustice of the world?

When George Liele set sail for Jamaica in 1782, he didn’t know he was about to become America’s first overseas missionary. And when Rebecca Protten shared the gospel with slaves in the 1730s, she had no idea some scholars would someday call her the mother of modern missions.

These two people of color were too busy surviving—and avoiding jail—to worry about making history. But today they are revising it. Their stories are helping people rethink a missionary color line. As National African American Missions Council (NAAMC) president Adrian Reeves said at a Missio Nexus conference in 2021, challenging the idea that “missions is for other people and not for us.” African Americans today account for less than one percent of missionaries sent overseas from the US. But they were there at the beginning.

British missionary William Carey is often called the father of modern missions. Adoniram Judson has been titled the first American missionary to travel overseas. But both Liele and Protten predated them.

Former missionary Brent Burdick now believes African Americans are a “sleeping giant” with an important part to play in the proclamation of the gospel. “They have a lot to offer to the world.”

President Abraham Lincoln’s biographer, Jon Meacham argues that Lincoln's version of Christian faith was complicated. But Meacham also adds, “There is no doubt, however, that the Lincoln of the White House years became more religiously inclined, attending services with some regularity and meeting with ministers and congregants.” Lincoln became more convinced of the sovereign purposes of a God who oversees world events.

At one point. Lincoln said, “I may not be a great man. I know I'm not a great man—and perhaps it is better than it is so—for it makes me rely upon One who is great and who has the wisdom and power to lead us safely through this great trial [of the Civil War.]”

Near the end of the Civil War, there was a touching scene that showed the gentleness and tenderness of President Abraham Lincoln. While he was visiting near the battle lines, Lincoln noticed three kittens, who had lost their mother. Moved by their mewing, he picked them up to comfort them.

Lincoln said, “Poor little creatures, don’t cry; you’ll be taken good care of.” To an officer, the President added, “Colonel, I hope you will see that these poor little motherless waifs are given plenty of milk and treated kindly.” The colonel replied “I will see, Mr. President, that they are taken in charge by the cook of our mess and are well cared for.”

One of the officers on the scene said, “It was a curious sight at an army headquarters, upon the eve of a great military crisis, in the nation’s history, to see the hand which had affixed the signature to the Emancipation Proclamation, and had signed the commissions of all the army men who served in the cause of the Union … tenderly caressing three stray kittens.”

Lincoln’s biographer, John Meacham adds, “It was not only curious—it was revealing. In the midst of carnage, fresh from a battlefield strewn with the corpses of those he had ordered in the battle, Lincoln was seeking some kind of affirmation of life, some evidence of innocence, some sense of kindliness amid cruelty. The orphaned kittens were a small thing, but they were there, and his focus on their welfare was a passing human moment in a vast drama.”

A series of political, cultural, and social events in the early 1980s led to many Germans to deal honestly with the Nazi horrors of the past. Before 1980 most Germans regarded themselves as victims of the Second World War. Vast numbers had lost family members, friends, colleagues. As the post-war generation was coming of age, "more and more Germans came to grasp the enormity of Nazi crimes against others, especially Jews." The actions of the nationally repentant were numerous and mostly local.

In schools and communities, research soared, as ordinary people … got to work. Teachers, housewives, retirees, and students researched what happened in their neighborhoods. They affixed plaques to destroyed and desecrated synagogues, and restored local cemeteries (often with the help of Jews who could read the Hebrew inscriptions). They figured out the places where Jewish people were deported from and where the barracks of nearby concentration subcamps were located. They also established an enormous network of contacts.

In many communities, Germans wrote letters to Jews who were forced to emigrate or had lost kin in the Holocaust. They wrote to get their stories. They wrote to help identify other Jews from the city, town, or neighborhood. And they wrote to invite them back. In large and small cities communities invited Jewish people to return for a “visitor week,” with the communities typically paying for travel and lodging. People gave speeches, wrote articles, and even books. Some local historians wrote about nefarious hometown Nazis. Other historians worked out the fate that befell local Jews, “members of our community,” as many Germans began to call them.

This German-version of the civil rights movement, if it may be called that, dramatically changed how people in the Federal Republic thought about their history and who belonged to it.

Jeff Peabody writes in a Christmas issue of CT magazine:

Several years ago, I decided to write a daily Christmas blog post on our church blog. So, I decided to tackle the theology of Christmas wrapping. I vaguely recalled that some cultures use cloth instead of paper to wrap gifts, which sounded intriguing.

That’s when I first learned about the ancient Japanese art of furoshiki. Feudal lords needed a practical way to bundle their belongings while using the bathhouse, and they displayed their family crests on the outer cloth to identify whose was whose.

Over the centuries, people adapted furoshiki into a beautiful means of presenting gifts. I realized that Jesus came to us in furoshiki, wrapped in cloths. The practice of swaddling crosses cultural lines and can be traced to the earliest civilizations.

For centuries, parents believed that wrapping infants tightly in place helped their limbs to grow straighter. Swaddling fell out of fashion in the 18th century, when physicians largely believed the tightness of the binding was not healthy. Babies need to be able to move somewhat freely for natural development.

It was new for me to consider this less pleasant side of swaddling. I can imagine Jesus in that manger, arms and legs straining against the unyielding bonds. What must it be like for a baby—particularly this baby, God incarnate—to be unable to move in any direction? What must it have been like to have your world shrunk and narrowed so severely?

The conditions of his advent were a small metaphor for his entire life. As the Son of God became flesh and bones, he experienced an unfathomable limitation of himself. The universe closed in around him, restricting him with time and space (see Phil. 2:6–8). Having a human body was like being swaddled, as it contained Almighty God in unnaturally small dimensions.

Possible Preaching Angle:

At some point, each of us meets the limits of being human. We all suffer the inescapable reality of sin and its fallout in this broken world. The simple image of Jesus, God’s gift to us, being wrapped up in cloths comforts me with the powerful truth: He understands the bindings on my mind and soul as only someone who has a shared experience can. The concept of Immanuel, God with us, takes on a new and profound clarity.