In the words of an unnamed retired minister from Tennessee, I share the following reflection:
I like the old paths—
when people loved the truth and rejected falsehood;
when they came to church to be filled, not to escape;
when hymns were reverent, and sermons were meaningful;
when rejoicing was natural, and tears were sincere.
When cursing was condemned, and drinking was discouraged;
when divorce was unthinkable.
When the flag was honored, America was cherished,
and God was welcomed.
When the Bible was read in public,
prayer was present in schools,
and the gospel was carried from house to house.
When being called an American was worth dying for,
and being called a Christian was worth living for.
When preachers spoke because they had a message,
and believers rejoiced because they had the victory.
When Scripture shaped the sermon,
songs rose from the heart,
and sinners turned toward salvation.
When new birth meant transformation,
and salvation meant a changed life.
When being a preacher meant proclaiming God’s Word,
being a deacon meant serving the Lord,
being a Christian meant living for Jesus,
and being a sinner meant someone was praying for you.
When laws were rooted in Scripture,
homes were guided by Scripture,
and churches taught Scripture.
When God was worshipped, Christ was exalted,
and the Holy Spirit was honored.
When preachers were more concerned with new converts
than with new clothes or new cars.
When the church was where Christians gathered
on the Lord’s Day—serving God, not man.
I still prefer the old paths.