I’m not an old man. Not yet. But, my body regularly reminds me that I am not young anymore. It reminds me even though I’m still in pretty good shape. I can hold my own in the gym. I still run enough to be considered “in shape,” and I can fit into pants that I owned in high school. But, trust me, the body in the 20 year old pants does not feel the same way it felt 20 years ago.
I’m in that sort of sweet spot of parenting. I’m still bigger (in a good way), faster, stronger, and smarter than my kids. But, at the same time, when I throw with them, my shoulder hurts. When I exercise with them, my body takes several days to recover. When we wrestle, I seem to get hurt more regularly (especially when my boys unexpectedly launch themselves off a bed and onto my back).
As a dad, I like to remind them that I’m still “the man.” But, as a man, I am regularly reminded that I am just a man. Sleep often eludes me. I rarely jump out of bed anymore–I sort of roll out of bed and spend the first couple of minutes trying to lubricate my joints. My beard is gray and the hair on top of my head is migrating to other parts of my body. I am occasionally mistaken for my wife’s father.
But, Proverbs 16:31 says, “Gray hair is a crown of glory.” I used to think that this crown was the result of years of accumulated knowledge and accomplishments. No doubt that is part of it. But as I age, I become more aware of my own finitude, of my own weakness, and of my own daily need for my Savior.
As I age, I begin to face a few limitations, and those limitations are a humbling reminder of the limitless power of God. So far, my limitations are not great, but at 39 years old, I know that those limitations are coming one day. My physical strength will probably peak in the next 6-8 years. The small aches in my joints will become more acute (and chronic). My mental sharpness will one day be dulled. My eyes will dim, and my beard will hide an increasingly wrinkled face.
I’m not old yet, but I can see age lurking in the distance. It isn’t as far off as it used to be, but in many ways it is as much friend as foe. I dread the day that I have to ask one of my sons to pick up something heavy for me, but I long for the day when those lessons will make me more like Jesus.
The way of Jesus is the way of suffering and humility. And, age has a unique way of humbling us. So, at 39 years old, I’ll keep on being bigger, faster, and stronger than my kids as long as I can (though my 13 year old can probably outrun me now), but I won’t dread the days that are to come. Instead, I’m praying that God will use those days to shape and mold me into his image. I’m praying that I’ll understand that the crown of old age is as much the humility that it brings as it is the wisdom that it promises.
Age is a slow but sure heal to our pride. Let’s pray together that God will work in our age to make us more useable vessels for his glory.
