Manassas - Virginia 1992

It was the first major battle of the Civil War, sometimes referred to as the First Battle of Bull Run. Now, some 130 years later, I found myself overlooking that sprawling field. Miles and miles of green countryside lay before my eyes, in what I could only describe as awe-inspiring. When I was younger I read about the Civil War, and I saw all the photographs and read all the books. There is truly nothing that compares to standing on the actual ground.

I walked all around that field. I stood by the cannons and imagined "Johnny Reb" charging at me from down wind with the frightening "Rebel Yell" echoing through the trees and valleys.

So much is made of epic battles and scenes that perhaps our American consciousness becomes too inflated from time to time. We watch the news and read our history books, but both of those activities fall woefully short of living history itself. Standing over those beautiful Virginia fields, I felt like I joined a part of history. I was only a passive observer, but I was there. The blood stained acres are hidden by time, but I still saw them. As best I could, I tried to take my mind back to 1861, and imagine what it my have been with my own thinking. Americans were fighting against each other, each newly invigorated by their respective cause. For the first time in American History, the enemy was themselves.

As trite as it is to say, this was about freedom. Whose definition of it do we go with? The North or the South? Whichever one you decide, what sets this apart is the passion for which they fought. This begs the question, where is the passion today? All of us, go to a football game or a concert, and cheer for our favorites like rabid animals. But since when have Christians cheered that loudly for Jesus Christ? Or cheer that loudly for an environmental victory or some other cause?

I realize that this is a digression…but these kinds of things are worth discussion. And they are so aptly framed in the setting of the Civil War. Part of me longs so desperately for the romance, simplicity and the passion of those years. I hope that I am not overly sentimental, but I am sure that it shows a little. I am thankful that I was shown these portraits of history by my parents and grandparents. Standing atop the hill at Manassas, how wonderful it was to be a small part of history. In some ways it was like taking a vacation….a vacation from myself…how I longed to live in those times.