I will be your God throughout your lifetime—until your hair is white with age. I made you, and I will care for you. I will carry you along and save you. [Isaiah 46:4 (NLT)]
While writing Monday’s devotion about the seemingly insurmountable giants we face, I wondered about the identity of my Goliath. Of who or what am I afraid? What giant looms over me and blinds me to the presence of God?
Unlike David’s Philistine foe, my Goliath doesn’t look imposing, strong, or powerful. Rather than being nearly nine feet tall, he has osteoporosis and is stooped, frail, and weak. Instead of wielding a sword and being accompanied by an armor bearer, this fearsome enemy uses a cane and has a caregiver. My Goliath isn’t surrounded by an army because he’s outlived his spouse and most of his friends. It’s the inadequacies, limitations, and loss that accompany old age that frighten me.
Back in 1819, Thomas Jefferson painted a vivid but grim picture of those limitations with these words: “First one faculty is withdrawn and then another, sight, hearing, memory, eucrasy [physical well-being], affections & friends, filched one by one till we are left among strangers, the mere monuments of times past, and specimens of antiquity for the observation of the curious.” My in-laws lived to the ages of 96 and 102 and we saw first-hand the toll those years took both physically and mentally. Unfortunately, no matter how well we care for ourselves, as the years progress, our bodies and minds start to wear out and cease operating at full capacity.
It was when our family gathered to celebrate our youngest child’s 50th birthday that my eyes were opened to the gifts accompanying advanced years. As I relished the time with family that weekend, I thought of my parents. Having died at 47 and 56, they never celebrated a child’s 30th birthday, let alone a 50th, nor did they get to celebrate their 100th surrounded by their great-grands as did my mother-in-law! Although they’d planted the field, they never got to enjoy the harvest! It wasn’t just the red-letter days like weddings, birthdays, and graduations they missed; they never enjoyed the special moments that come with grands and greats—another round of soccer matches, Legos and Tinker Toys, tea parties and dress-up, and endless games of Crazy-8s and LCR.
Although my parents avoided things like arthritis, memory loss, hip replacements, cataracts, and assisted living, I think they would have accepted all that and more to have had additional years with their children and to hold a grandbaby or a great. A walker, hearing aids, and macular degeneration are a small price to pay for watching one’s children and grands develop into the kind of people you’d want to spend time with even if they weren’t family! Indeed, as daunting as it is, old age is a privilege granted to few and should be embraced.
My Goliath really isn’t old age; it’s my fear of old age! I can’t vanquish the indignities and decline of the oncoming years nor can I evade my body’s final defeat, but God will give me the power to rout my defeatist attitude. Knowing He is with me, I can confidently face the future with confidence. As long as God gives me breath, He will continue to calm my fears and give me both purpose and strength in the coming years (whatever they may bring).
While reading about David and Goliath, I realized that it’s not just our seniors who can be undervalued or overlooked. It’s as wrong to disregard the youth in our midst as it is to discount the old. Likewise, just as some seniors may underestimate their gifts, the same could be said for those who still count the years rather than the decades! Age is just a number to God—He’s more interested in willing hearts than number of years!
English philosopher Francis Bacon defined “old age” as “always 15 years older than I am.” He would have liked it here in southwest Florida because there always seems to be someone fifteen years older. Nevertheless, having recently celebrated my 77th birthday, it’s getting increasingly hard to find them! While I enjoy being told I look good, I don’t like hearing the “for your age!” ending that sentence! Hearing that qualified compliment, being called “Hon” or “Sweetie” by a waitperson or nurse less than half my age, or people assuming my grey hair means I’m computer inept and/or hard of hearing remind me of the subtle ageism in today’s society.
When I learned about people like Abraham, David, Moses, and Samson as a girl, they were the Bible’s version of super-heroes like Batman or Superman. The Bible’s heroes were larger than life, obedient, invincible, and seemed to overcome their obstacles effortlessly. Appearing perfect in their faith and actions, they weren’t people to whom I could relate. In reality, they were as flawed as the rest of us but, for the most part, their imperfections and failures were redacted from the stories we learned in Sunday school.
I suspect we would prefer a eulogy that shines a light on our victories and accomplishments but the man known as “the father of modern missions” chose otherwise. When William Carey [1762-1834] was asked what text he wanted for his funeral sermon, he chose today’s verse. The humble man wanted to shine a light on God’s lovingkindness and great compassion rather than his personal accomplishments.
In the first Advent, Jesus came as a suffering servant in a manger. In His second Advent, Jesus will return in righteousness as the conquering King who makes all things right. His return means the final destruction of sin, injustice, hate, disease, death, decay and evil. Our God, however, is one of both mercy and judgement and Malachi’s promise of the Messiah included a warning about the coming day of judgment.
Devotions of the Heart 