Back in 1981, I was way out in West Texas in the Big Bend near Ft. Davis, Ft. Stockton, Alpine, and Marathon. Don't worry about locating them, just know that if you don't intend to get there, you won't go there. I was speaking to the Bloys Cowboy Camp in Ft. Davis, the oldest cowboy camp in Texas. It's a really large camp with over a thousand people a pop meeting in a tabernacle, an open-sided building with a roof over it, 3 times a day for preaching. There was a man there, an old man, that I had heard of for years. Dr. Carl Amerding, a preacher and Biblical scholar and old-time professor at DTS. He had retired from ministry and was living in Valentine, TX, out in the middle of the Big Bend. Middle of nowhere. Since then, I've wondered why a man nearing the end of his days on this earth would retire to Valentine, TX. And why so many old men retire to far away places removed from the main stream as they hear the white water of death approaching.

I think now I know. On this day, December 29, 2025, the day I turn 75 and hear the not-so-distant sound of the falls. These days, I continually preside at the funerals of contemporaries and classmates.

Days that I continually find myself drawn to a place 30 miles from Gilmer, 10 miles from New Diana, just this side of Bear Bottom, TX, on the way to Marshall and Jefferson in the middle of the east Texas Piney Woods, close to Hallsville and Ore City. To my wife's childhood home built in 1918, where you can sit and hear nothing and see but 1 house across the road 200 yards away with its 3 dogs. Now I understand.

A Christian is forced to live out his days almost in a looney bin. An asylum of demoniacs gone mad on the opiate of "freedom." Especially in Western civilization in the 20t century where we have continued a process from the 7" century until today of slowly sawing off the limb we sit upon. The drone of the blade accompanies everything we see or hear. We stand, Bible in hand, preaching, reasoning, and warning the inmates with limited results. The sawing becomes more frantic each day amidst the illusion of "progress." Civilization is lunacy.

Old men with any sense of wisdom are aware of 2 things. First, the world will never figure it out. It will pursue knowledge, science, physical discoveries, wealth, power, and pleasure, hoping that it might soften the edges of life with something "new." Modern something.

God, His Word, His Son, the Rebirth...these will never be in vogue. Like gerbils on a treadmill, what will be done has essentially been done. Only the wrapping will change. Man will never on his own rise above man. Same song, different verse.

Second, industry, technology, transportation, communication, medicine, exploration, science, and amusements will continually progress, but what makes life numinous, bright, transcendent, divine, unique and reverent will continually devolve. Cruelty, crime, violence, perversion, dysfunction, unbelief, inhumanity, sin, and death and the reign of evil will accelerate. What one generation deplored, the next will accept, the next will promote, the next will defend. Corruption is concealed in progress. Rot reigns. Such has been the trek of man and history since Eden.

And old folks can oft times see it. It's why they are unimpressed with novelty and progress but lonely for days gone by. (i.e. grumpy)

And that's why the old feel drawn to lonely places of anonymity. Because "the country" does not have so many modern toys and gadgets and video games. "The city" has always been the engine of progress and improvement and thus the city has always been seductive.

"How ya gonna keep 'em down on the farm after they've seen Par-ee?" But nature has sameness.

It's why I think we love pets. They don't change! A dog is a dog was a dog. And ignorance can indeed be bliss. Do I need to know who's killing who? Do I need the media to keep me abreast of fresh evil? Possessions? At the close of life, you find yourself asking, "Now why did I need all of this stuff?" I came naked. I'll leave naked. In between, what was so important? Answer? Love, truth, and peace.

Old men are able to behold the sowing and reaping of history and its ideas. "The gray head is found in the way of righteousness." They've observed. It's why "there's no fool like an old fool." They haven't learned.

I'm beginning to figure out why gray heads gather at barber shops and breakfast cafes and Whataburgers with nickel coffee and make fun of the world. At death's door, you see the best.

It's "youthful lusts" you flee from.

"Youth is wasted on all the wrong people," old fat guy on the porch in "It's a Wonderful Life."

Point: This is why old folks head far away or find retirement communities full of their senior class.

Every time I see another football player performing after a play
or another collegian going for the portal and the dough
or another 30-something pontificating on mortality
or college students protesting...anything
or preening bodies on red carpets
or any awards ceremonies whatsoever
or anyone nekkid and atraid, I want to withdraw and get off the carousel or retreat into the timeless Word of God... to the Wardrobe.. the Stargate... the worm hole... Everest... outside of time... and rest surrounded by the words of John the apostle, the Time Traveler, who saw the glorious end, and to behold God, long, deep and worshipful.

"Thou art the same. Thy years will not come to an end." (Heb. 1:12)

But there is something positive that an old man can do. Give back. Take the river that has given you life and invite the young to come and drink. As old John the apostle wrote to the young of his day, "...let the one who is thirsty come, let the one who wishes take the water of life without cost." (Rev. 22:17) The last verses of the Bible are the New Testament'S oldest author calling to the young to drink from the ancient river.

The river of life that began at Eden and has continued to the wound in Christ's side from the which came blood and water, and He washes by the water of His Word. Thus we call the young and victimized back to the fountain that began in Eden. Back to the creator of all and the divine designer of all reality. Or "Truth." The way things really are and are meant to be.

"Oh God, You have taught me from my youth,
and I will tell of all your wonderful deeds.
And even when I am old and gray,
O God, do not forsake me,
until I declare your power to the next generation,
your might to all who are to come."
(Psalm 71:17-18)

Circle up, my children. Take a knee.

-Tommy