Faraway Home, Part 3

by John Comer

God is good. This boatload of immigrating Irish farmers has plowed its way safely through the Atlantic. They never got used to the roll and swell of the ocean’s surface. Their feet were too accustomed to the Ould Sod to adapt to a seafarer’s floating world. But the sounds of sails snapping to the breeze, wind in the shrouds, and the endless groan and creak of a wooden ship’s timbers tormented by an ever-moving sea, seemed forever imbedded in their heads.

The long, low Carolina coastline has been in view for hours. Jane tacks southward to enter the main ship channel, then sails into the bay, avoiding shoals on the left, where, nine years hence, construction will begin on a coastal fortification to be known as Ft. Sumter, and makes her way on to the mouth of the Cooper River where at last they fasten their lines to the dock.

November 20th, 1820. Charleston, South Carolina. William Junkin and his family view America first from the deck of their ship. It’s a different world. Cotton bales, being moved by black men. Wagons of tobacco, unloaded by black men. Bags of rice on the backs of black men, going up ship gangplanks.

Few passengers disembarking from the Jane had ever seen a black person. None had seen a slave. None cared about Washington politicians squabbling over whether slavery would be legal in new states. On this happy day, none would have been interested in John C. Calhoun, South Carolina’s fiery advocate for States’ Rights and slavery, though he and those who shared his views would help bring devastation on these very immigrants and their as-yet-unborn children and grandchildren. They had no way of knowing that a cannon shot would burst over the ramparts of Ft. Sumter, within sight and sound of where they now stood, and mark the beginning of a time of suffering for them all. But this day was a joyful one for the Junkins, as for all those who made the trip over with them. These were godly, Christ-honoring people who had placed their future in God’s hands before they left Ireland. This was no day for searching out future trouble, though it surrounded them heavily.

God is good. He saves us from so much worry if we pay attention to what he says. Jesus realistically reminds us that each day brings trouble enough of its own, and asks us what we can gain by worrying in advance. It won’t add a single hour to our lives. He reminds us that it’s pagans who run around in a panic. They don’t have the comfort of entrusting the future to God.

Like our immigrant ancestors, we Christians are on our way to a new home in a new land. But it’s a land which holds no problems upon arrival. You can trust God for this.