First, history is the great idea-tester. Flummoxed by problems in our families or jobs, many of us have had bright ideas sure to change our fortunes. Yet very few of us think, “Perhaps somebody in the past 4000 years of recorded history has had a similar problem. Maybe I should consult them first.” From social and political movements to inventions or even our school systems, the most logical place to look to investigate the validity of our ideas ought to be the past. As the Teacher of Ecclesiastes has said, “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again.” Yesterday is not nearly so different from today as we often think.
Second, history provides us with vision for tomorrow. What safer foundation could anyone lay for the future of an organization than one that has learned from both the virtues and vices of yesterday? It’s no coincidence that many of the great leaders of history have been amateur historians themselves. John Adams and Abraham Lincoln loved history, as have many of their latter-day disciples. It seems to me that if we are serious about changing tomorrow, whether it be a university or a construction company, we would be wise to examine the past in order to track where we went wrong. If we can isolate that point, perhaps we can redirect history to more fruitful ends today.
Third, I believe there to be few powers greater than that of a story. It’s no coincidence that the Bible is a story. People love stories because they can find themselves in the struggles and triumphs of other human beings. In a story, we both think and emote, which is a powerful combination. Many times I’ve noticed that whoever can tell the most compelling story tends to win over a crowd. The story of “where we come from” is probably the most important force in forming the identity of a community. If you have studied history, and can accurately and convincingly “tell us our story”, then you will have a powerful leadership tool.
Fourth, truth is interdisciplinary. The problem with so much higher study (doctoral studies, etc) today is that most professors know everything there is to know about their miniscule slice of the universe, whether it be the Hebrew jussive case or robotic arms. And most professors then expect that everybody else think that their slice of the universe is really the whole universe! The nature of doctoral study, in many ways, pushes against seeing solutions to our world’s most vexing problems as the interplay between many disciplines. Although historians are certainly subject to this malady, history is inherently interdisciplinary. History involves philosophy, science, math, politics, education, psychology, social movements, leadership, and a host of other disciplines. The best historians can see connections between various fields, and thus are often some of the most insightful social commentators.
Finally, Americans don’t like thinking about the past. Our society is always looking to the future. Now, I’m not one to pooh-pooh visionaries. On the contrary, we have an obligation to form a more just and redemptive future. But in America (in contrast to Europe), we have an historical amnesia that is especially debilitating in much of our public discourse. Without a hearty and accessible knowledge of the past, America can’t expect to truly form a more just and robust republic. And more importantly, if Christians don’t understand the past, they are liable to miss the God of history who is moving all things toward his redemptive purposes.
So, next time you’re channel surfing, pause for a few minutes on the history channel. Or better yet, shut off the TV, find a book of history, and embrace the legacy of human civilization.
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