Thomas Wolfe wrote the classic novel You Can Never Go Home Again. On the one hand, we keep thinking that Wolfe was wrong, yet our world experiences often tell a different story. Nothing in this world remains static. Some things deteriorate, others ripen, including people.
I recently went to my high school reunion. It was not out of nostalgia or fondness for the good old days. The best thing I can say about those days is that they are old. No, it was not to reunite with old friends or relive the “remember-when-we . . .” moments. I had not seen a single classmate since leaving those hallowed halls of adolescent tomfoolery. I went to the reunion purely out of curiosity—to see how time treated my fixed memory of the class of 1965. My expectations were not at all high, not having any ongoing relationships.
It’s a good thing we wore tags having our high school pictures because I would not have recognized anyone, nor they me. Fifty years of graying hair, wrinkles, and avoirdupois in the midsection were not friendly to most. The cheerleaders predictably giggled and danced to 60s tunes while the football players huddled around the bar reliving glorious moments. I mainly talked with fellow nerds, but conversation was pretty limited to where we live, the careers from which we are now retired, our marital status, and our children. I remarked how amazing it is that we knew every word of the songs we haven’t heard for decades, but can’t remember where we put our keys. I was stunned by the memorial board realizing fifty of our class were gone forever. I left early from this depressing gathering having satisfied my curiosity and determining that high school reunions affirm Thomas Wolfe’s theme—in the things of this world, you really can’t go home again.
Just thinking about where I am on the timeline of living made me question how we integrate generations in our church communities. Is there a greater focus on one group—children, youth, or seniors to the virtual exclusion of others? Is there so much energy and thought to keeping our young people amused, entertained, and biblically challenged that our seniors are left in the dust heap of “you’ve had your chance” so just keep hanging on until you give up the ghost? Surely the wisdom, patience, and understanding of longevity can be intelligently and spiritually paired with the enthusiasm and zeal of youth to benefit both and advance the Kingdom of God.
I am reminded of how Moses was 80 when he went to Egypt to be the deliverer of a nation, but Jesus was just 30 when His ministry went public. We don’t know about the ages of the 120+ on Pentecost, but I suspect the range of age was broad. God was certainly not surprised at their ages and it was not a requirement one way or the other. Both youth and the “seasoned” bring something of value to the table of Christian living. Would we not want the benefit of believers in their prime regardless of age? “Age-ism” fractures the church and can prompt people to leave. Healthy families embrace all of its members and so should the church, the family of God on earth. If we never left the “home” of church, we would not have to think about going home again.
But we all know folks who flourish for a while in church and then drop out of sight, usually due to hurt, discouragement, unfulfilled dreams, or burnout. Can they come home again? All of us relate to a prodigal son experience to some degree and looked for the open arms of a loving father ready to have a celebration for the homecoming. God embraces us with healing and restoration. If not a prodigal, we know the feeling of being isolated in a spiritual cave, devoid of vision or purpose. Are we willing to engage in helping to rebuild the brokenness of the wounded? The ministry of reconciliation to which every believer is called has redemption as its driving engine so that we can honestly say, “Yes, you can come home again.”