Aging and Freedom

The freedom that comes with aging

Entering the Worship Center one Sunday morning. Looking around, greeting people, finding a seat.

I try not to focus on the externals when I’m with others, but I can’t help noticing the clothing, the jewelry, the hairstyles. And the freedom they represent.

More than half of the congregation is older than me. They’re well past the age where they worry about conforming to the fashions of the moment in order to be accepted. They’re comfortable wearing what they like. It’s a freedom that comes with aging.

Saying hi to Jane and Jim. Widow and widower. They’ve been sitting together every week for several years. But there are no rumors, no speculation about their relationship, no hinting in whispers that they must be more than just friends. They’ve reached an age where single members of the opposite sex are free to spend time together without triggering speculation and gossip.

As a teenager, I hated the pressure to conform to the latest styles, and the social norms that made it next to impossible for boys and girls to be friends without pursuing or assuming a romantic relationship.

In the few moments that it takes me to find a seat, I feel a tremendous sense of freedom. A freedom that comes with aging.

A few years later, this is reinforced by a brief comment on the news. (I don’t remember the source, and can’t find the comment online at this point.) The newscaster is interviewing a woman on her hundredth birthday. He asks, “What’s the best part of living so long?”

She immediately replies, “No more peer pressure.”

She’s outlived all her peers. She’s free to wear whatever she wants to wear. She’s free to sit with the same man every day without worrying about what other people are thinking. Or even about what he’s thinking.

Additional freedoms

There are other freedoms that seniors can enjoy.

*The freedom from all those big decisions that will determine the trajectory of our lives for fifty years or more. Where to live. Whether to go to college. What career to pursue. Whether to marry and have children. How to raise those children.

*The freedom that comes from letting go of possessions. If we live long enough, many of us will be unable to keep up with the responsibilities of a house and yard. We’ll downsize.

It’ll be tough. It’ll be even tougher if we end up in a small assisted living apartment. It’ll help if other family members cherish the items we’ve invested with the greatest sentimental value. But the reality is that, even within our lifetimes, much of our stuff will go to the trash heap. We’ll need to grieve our losses. How can that be good?

We Americans tend to define our lives and our value by the things we possess. Letting go frees us to appreciate the far more precious things that we can never own. Like God. And people. When we’re not so focused on our manmade treasures, we’re free to pay more attention to the beauty of God’s world, the depth of His character, and the talents and wisdom of those around us.

*And even, in an odd way, the freedom that comes from knowing that nothing more can be done to improve our health or extend our lives. My mom’s been going through this in recent years.

In the past, she was somewhat obsessive about her health. She’d learn about the latest greatest preventive techniques. She’d become angry or bitter if a treatment didn’t work out perfectly. She lived with the anxiety of knowing that she, or her medical team, could make the wrong decision with potentially disastrous results.

Now she’s declining treatment. She knows that little can be done for her at this point. She’s made her peace with that reality. She’s free from the stress of having to research all her options and trust the medical professionals to do the right thing, free from the fear of missing out on the best treatment, free from the fear of her life ending early. She’s ready to go home.

Contentment

I don’t mean to make it sound like there aren’t any drawbacks to aging. It usually includes some loss of independence, and therefore loss of freedom, especially if a person’s life ends in assisted living or a nursing home.

But the world puts so much emphasis on youth that it can be hard to appreciate the intangible benefits of aging. If we see no benefits at all in our current situation, where does that leave us? What does it say about our trust in a loving God?

At the root of all these freedoms that come with aging is a powerful biblical value: contentment. The contentment that comes with reduced pressure from our peers and a reduced number of options for the future.

Paul writes in Philippians 4:12-13, “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” He was in chains (1:13), probably under house arrest (NIV intro to Philippians), awaiting trial, when he wrote these words. Not exactly enjoying many freedoms. Yet, through Christ, he had the strength to be content.

This isn’t an automatic response. Even Paul had to learn it. Fallen human beings have a natural bent to be dissatisfied. The ad industry, especially in America, aggravates our discontent. It may be that those who’ve spent sixty years or more grumbling and complaining will continue that lifestyle right up to the end.

But maybe, just maybe, the grumblers and complainers can learn to recognize the freedoms that come with aging. Maybe they’ll be able to enjoy the limited years they have left with contentment.

And maybe our young people can be more countercultural and find the freedom that comes with contentment. Why wait until you reach old age?

 

God in the Fire

Falling into the flames

After three years of having his medical condition under control, my precious young loved one might be experiencing another flare-up. After three years of knowing that he wasn’t in treatment, that he might never have to deal with it again, that God had spared his life (at least temporarily), my defenses are down. I’ve forgotten how to do the daily walking-with-this-weight-on-my-shoulders thing.

I try not to fall apart when I get the news that a routine lab test shows a potential problem. Scans will be done next week to determine what’s happening. I pray for God’s strength in me. But I fall asleep that night feeling more numb than strong.

I wake up in the morning with a sense of terror, of pain, of being too weak to go through all this again.

Oh God, please heal him. Please let the tests show that he’s okay. Please take away every last trace of this condition. Please, please, please. Praying. Begging. Pleading. Over and over again. Agonizing.

Getting up and getting ready for the day. Doing a brief reading from Timothy Keller’s Walking With God Through Pain and Suffering. The message from the section “Three in the Furnace” in chapter 11: God is with us in the fire.

And my whole perspective changes.

God’s presence in the fire

It’s not just that He is with me in the fire, as if He’s abstractly within me or beside me as I go through the flames (as I’ve apparently always visualized it), but He is in the fire with me.

God is in the fire. It burns Him. He feels the pain, not just indirectly as He sees it hurting me, but directly, on His own skin (so to speak). It’s scorching Him, too.

And He’s not just in my fire. God is in every fire with every believer in the entire world every minute of every day and night. The fire of every Christian martyr being tortured and beheaded for their faith right now. The fire of every Christian whose family has been crippled by yet another mass shooting. The fire of every Christian victim of injustice. The fire of every Christian who’s simply struggling to cope with everyday life. The God of the Bible is a God of constant pain.

(I’ve said that He’s with every Christian because, biblically, I know that to be true. Is He also ever with unbelievers? I can’t answer that with certainty by citing a specific passage from the Bible. But because of His nature and character as revealed in His Word, I imagine He often is. He loved me while I was still an unsaved sinner. That means He loves the unsaved sinners around me. Why wouldn’t He be with those He loves?)

And He’s taken all this on voluntarily, by His own free choice.

God’s power over pain

I can almost picture Him saying, “You think you’ve got troubles? Quit your complaining and consider what I’m going through.” And yet, of course, He doesn’t.

There’s a sense (beyond my understanding) in which God actually hurts. Not because He couldn’t prevent it if He chose to do so. He allows Himself to feel the sting just as His Son allowed the Romans to crucify Him. Because of that, He understands our pain more deeply and completely than we can ever imagine.

But at the same time, He has power over all pain. As much power as He has over everything else. Pain cannot change His innate character, as it will change mine for better or for worse. It cannot harm Him. No matter how great it is (like bearing every wound of every believer every minute of every day and night), in a sense it’s just a speck of dust compared to His eternal Being. He can handle it without flinching or complaining.

My life is like a finite jug of water. If you keep dripping the black ink of suffering into it, it will alter the color of the water. It will change me.

God is more like an infinite barrel of bleach. No matter how much black ink you pour into it, the bleach will quickly absorb it and transform it until it’s no longer visible. That’s sort of like what He does with the very real pain that he feels. Rather than letting it change Him, He transforms it.

When I’m in Christ, He can absorb and transform my suffering, as if my jug is now immersed in His barrel. His bleach seeps in, often slowly, over time. But as I read and reflect on Keller’s comments, it rushes in all at once. I’m suddenly and miraculously released from the agony that I’m feeling. My heart is lighter and my day is brighter. I don’t seem to have the capacity to worry and fret and grieve over the news of the threat to my loved one’s health.

My response

Is this the “victorious Christian life” that I hear so much about? Should we expect to be such super Christians that we can take every complaint to God and be instantly relieved of it? Should I be walking around with a cheerful smile on my face every moment, in spite of the very real possibility of losing this loved one?

I don’t think so.

Much of the time God allows us to continue hurting in order to fulfill His greater purposes. How can I minister to others who are suffering if I feel no ongoing pain? How can I do as He does and walk through the fire with them? I need to be scorched, I need to blister and peel, or I won’t be able to relate to those who are being consumed by the flames. When I’m in the fire with them, God can use me to strengthen them and maybe even pull them out.

So why did God provide this instantaneous relief for me at this particular time? I have to wonder if it was His sign that my loved one is going to be okay. Further analysis shows no indication that the illness has returned. The initial test result was alarmingly high, while all the others are in the normal range. The doctor can’t explain the discrepancy, but says he isn’t worried.

The Old Testament mentions many times when God gave someone a sign to confirm in advance something that He had promised would happen soon. I’m not sure how often He does anything like that today. Not very often in my experience. I can remember one other example more than forty years ago. But I’m thinking maybe this was one of those rare occasions.

I treasure this moment of healing from a wound I didn’t think I could bear. I hope I’ll always remember it and respond to God with thanksgiving and joy and awe.

But the greater treasure isn’t my restored well-being. It’s my deepened understanding of who God is. The opening of my eyes to see Him in the fire with me, feeling the heat and the pain just as much as I do.

 

Walking, Running, Soaring, Dancing

 Running

“Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us” (Hebrews 12:1).

“Run in such a way as to get the prize” (1 Corinthians 9:24).

These are the verses I often hear when someone is teaching about following Jesus. Run. Use all your energy. Push yourself. Anything less would be slacking off. Show your excitement and enthusiasm.

Most of the time that admonition just makes me feel discouraged and hopeless. I’m not often capable of running. I look back on my life and see my own slowness, especially during times of suffering. If life is a race, I’m like one of those marathon runners who struggles over the finish line hours after the winners have all gone home.

I tend to think that my negative reaction to the preaching and teaching about running is mostly based on my low energy level. But then I turn to God’s Word and realize that my gut feeling about slowing down as we follow Him has a lot of biblical support.

Walking

God walked in the Garden of Eden (Genesis 3:8). He promised to walk among His people if they remained faithful to Him (Leviticus 26:12). He describes His followers as walking with Him (e.g. Genesis 5:22, 6:9), commands His people to walk in His ways (e.g. Deuteronomy 5:33, 1 John 1:7), and promises them blessings when they do (1Kings 3:14).

Why do we stress the verses that say to run and practically ignore the idea of walking? Maybe we’re simply imitating the culture around us. A culture that tells us to go for the gusto, break free from all our shackles, make an exuberant bucket list and check off every item one by one. A culture that no longer values patience and persistence.

Jesus refers to running in many ways, but never as an illustration for following Him. He describes pagans as running after the wrong things (Matthew 6:32). He assures us that those who know Him will run away from a false shepherd (John 10:5). He warns us about running after those who claim to come in His name, but who don’t actually know Him (Luke 17:23). John urges his readers to continue in Jesus’ teaching, rather than running ahead (2 John 9).

Obviously, running in itself isn’t wrong, or Paul wouldn’t encourage us to do it. Maybe the problem lies in our tendency to lose control or go our own way once we get our momentum up. It’s harder to follow God’s minute-by-minute leading when we’re moving too fast. Harder to avoid an obstacle or turn a sudden corner. Easier to crash. And more deadly when we do.

Soaring

Many years ago, I heard a sermon on Isaiah 40:31, “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Prior to that morning, every lesson I’d ever heard on this verse stressed renewal, soaring, running, no weariness, no fainting.

That teaching appealed to me. I desperately wanted all those blessings, especially during my first depressive episode, when I had very little physical or emotional strength. I treasured this promise for the hope it provided.

But this sermon broke the usual mold. This time the pastor stressed that we all have different experiences at different times in our lives. Sometimes we’re soaring and sometimes we’re running. But there are also times when all we can do is walk. God promises to be with us and help us even then. I liked this pastor’s approach. He had a heart for those who were hurting.

I have some negative thoughts related to walking, though. When I hear that word “persevering,” my mind doesn’t leap to Hebrews 12:1 and envision the joy of running freely. Instead, my mental image tends to be one of trudging along, painfully grinding through my trials, dragging my feet, putting up with whatever’s happening, but longing for things to get better.

Dancing

I want to run, I want to soar, right now. I want to dance, as David did before the ark of God (2 Samuel 6:14). I want the exhilaration that comes with running and soaring and dancing. But I have to stop and ask myself: Am I seeking God? Or am I seeking that exhilaration? Am I just looking for an emotional experience? Or do I long for the true joy of the Spirit, which cannot be manufactured by my own efforts but grows like fruit as I walk with Him?

I’d like to think that even when my body is struggling to make it through the day, my spirit can still be active. I can run and soar and dance on the inside. Sometimes that happens, but not very often.

When I’m physically weary, my mind also slows down. And my spirit. I have a hard time focusing on God’s promises and His character and the amazing things He’s done for me throughout my new life. Prayer takes an extra effort. He keeps me from fainting, and there are occasional breakthroughs when my spirit soars in spite of Satan’s attacks. But I’m usually just crawling along, even on the inside.

Waiting

There are also times when He asks us to stand still. Several psalms talk about waiting on the Lord, as in Psalm 37:7, “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him.” Isaiah says, “Blessed are all who wait for him” (verse 30:18). Some translations use the word “wait,” rather than “hope,” in Isaiah 40:31 (above). The waiting comes before the soaring and running. It even seems to be a condition for being able to soar on wings like eagles, to run and not grow weary, and to walk without fainting.

Father, help me to wait when I need to, and to follow You step by slow step when I’d much rather break free and run. Help me to take those steps with joy, rather than trudging along gloomily. Help me to resist the world’s view that my life should be one of constant, excited motion. And please, oh please, let me dance.

 

 

Choose Life!

 The biblical meaning of “life”

“Choose life and not death!” (2 Kings 18:32).

Yes! This is what God calls us to do. It’s the choice that Moses encouraged the Israelites to make as they prepared to enter the Promised Land (Deuteronomy 30:19).

I’ve always been fascinated by the Bible’s concept of life. Man does not live on bread alone (Deuteronomy 8:3). Life is more important than food (Matthew 6:25). But food is necessary for my survival. How can life be more important than that which sustains it?

There’s a hint here of something bigger, something greater than my literal understanding of the word “life.” In each of these brief sentences, God sweeps away my human view that I need to be thinking every moment about the physical aspects of my existence. Focusing, planning, fretting, anticipating good food, good drink, nice clothes, today’s to-do list, tomorrow’s adventures.

Biblically, “life” means even more than all these things put together. Salvation isn’t just about the perfect bliss of heaven. God is also deeply concerned about my quality of life here on earth. What does that look like when I’m working, when I’m cleaning up after my dog, or when I’m hurting from a painful loss? How do I live as if this is true?

I’ve been trying to figure that out for decades. Don’t know that I’ll ever get there. But I think of the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). Rather than finding my greatest pleasure in consuming foods that are soon gone, God wants to produce fruit in me that continues to multiply. Fruit that not only nourishes me, but feeds others as well. That’s life.

I also recall the Bible’s reminders to be content (1 Timothy 6:6, Hebrews 13:5). To my human mind, contentment leans toward grudgingly accepting something that I don’t really like. How often have I thought with a sigh, I guess I’ll just have to be content? As if being content is some kind of burden. True contentment lightens my heart with joy and peace. Even when I’m cleaning up after my dog.

Other views

The world around me shouts the same message as the verse above: Choose life! But the biblical meaning is missing here. In this context, life means everything that Jesus said is less important. Eat the tastiest foods. Drink the most intoxicating beverages. Wear the latest styles. Have sex as often as possible, with as many different people as possible. Get high. Put your own needs and desires ahead of everyone else’s. That’s what life is all about.

Sometimes Christian groups urge me to seek the wrong kind of life, too. In our lists of prayer requests, most of them concern physical healing or material needs. They reflect a genuine compassion for those who are suffering, as Jesus displayed. But that emphasis can imply that the physical and the material are the most important aspects of our lives.

We tend to forget the greater blessing that comes with accepting His will in all circumstances, and the truth that affliction can bring bountiful spiritual riches. Comfort takes priority over spiritual growth. The prosperity gospel, with its emphasis on health and wealth, is the most extreme form of this kind of thinking.

A godly response

That desire for worldly goods and pleasures is actually the side of human nature that the “Choose life!” verse is appealing to. The speaker isn’t urging his listeners to reach for a higher goal. He’s using crafty words and references to the God of Israel in an attempt to persuade King Hezekiah and his people to give themselves up to the invaders from Assyria.

A large army is standing outside the walls of Jerusalem, ready to destroy the city. The field commander is taunting its inhabitants, intentionally speaking in their language, trying to turn them against their king, trying to persuade them to surrender. Otherwise, they’ll die.

A group has gathered on the wall. Their backs are turned to God’s temple as they gaze at the threat in front of them and listen to a voice promising a way to safety. They’re frightened and vulnerable and oh-so-tempted to choose the meager physical life that the Assyrians are willing to provide, rather than seeking the true life that consists of more than bread alone.

Isn’t that where I sometimes find myself? Standing on a wall with my back to God. Seeing only the vast army of the enemy. Hearing words in my own language offering me life, not death.

What do the people of Jerusalem do? They obey their king. They remain silent when the Assyrians demand an answer, because that’s what Hezekiah had told them to do. Their faces may be turned away from the temple, but their hearts remain firmly dedicated to their God.

Their leaders respond by tearing their clothes, a symbol of anger and sorrow (BibleGateway.com). They report to Hezekiah, who also rips his robes. He goes to the temple, while sending others to the prophet Isaiah to ask him to pray. Isaiah’s first words to these messengers are, “Do not be afraid.” He then describes how the Lord will miraculously deliver them.

God doesn’t expect me to stay sheltered in His house, protected from the seductive words of an enemy who urges me to choose life, not death. Words that can sound so reasonable and attractive, so much like God’s own words. He puts me up on that wall with my back to His temple, listening to appeals in my own language.

But if I’ve already chosen the life that He offers, I can depend on that life to nourish and grow me over time. I’ll develop the wisdom and the faith to obey my King even in the face of fierce opposition and tempting invitations. I can rely on that life to provide the resources that allow me to go to the King and His prophets and His temple with its torn curtain. I can trust in that life to relieve my fears as I ask for prayer for His guidance and strength.

The Lord doesn’t promise me a miraculous physical deliverance in every situation, but He gives me the ability to choose life—a life that’s far greater than mere food and drink and clothing and all the other pleasures that this world has to offer.

 

 

Fret Not

 Fretting freely

“Fret not yourself because of evildoers” (Psalm 37:1, ESV).

This verse really bothered me the first time I read it. I knew I wasn’t supposed to worry about what to wear or eat or drink. Jesus cares enough about us to provide for our daily needs (Matthew 6:19-34). But weren’t evildoers the one thing I should fret about?

Shouldn’t I be filled with righteous anger when evildoers are doing their evil and getting away with it? Isn’t fretting the first, necessary step on the road to doing something about the evil all around me? Don’t I need to become upset about it before I’ll act? I saw fretting as sort of the opposite of contentment. Was this verse really saying that I should be content or passive when evildoers are flourishing?

Obviously, I didn’t understand what the psalmist meant.

Anger or anxiety?

Maybe my excuse for fretting because of evildoers was just a cover for an attitude that was clearly wrong. How often is my fretting truly righteous anger? Isn’t it more likely to be unrighteous anxiety or open hatred?

When my empty house was on the market several years ago, copper theft was on the rise in my town. A small part of my fretting was the indignation that drug addicts were stripping homes of their wiring, causing major headaches for the homeowners, in order to make enough money to buy their next fix.

But the biggest part of my fretting was for myself. What if those evildoers attacked my house next? Would my insurance company cover the damage? How much would the deductible cut into my badly-needed profit? Could I show the house without electricity, or would I have to take it off the market until the repairs were done?

Maybe this is the kind of fretting the psalmist is warning me about. I was fretting because of evildoers in the positive sense of righteous anger, but I was also (even more so) demonstrating my lack of trust in the God who promises to be with me through the most difficult times. And I wasn’t really angry at the crime, I was angry with the criminals. Instead of praying for their deliverance from the drugs that enslaved them, I was simply hating them.

Fretting and envying

Another piece of the puzzle fell into place when I learned about the use of parallelism in Hebrew poetry. After expressing an idea, the poet would follow it with a similar, or parallel, thought. The second half of the verse says, “Be not envious of wrongdoers!” The writer was limiting his meaning of fretting to the negative sense of useless worry, as a parallel to the negative idea of envying wrongdoers.

When I think about the idea of parallelism, I also realize that there’s a connection between fretting and envying. My fretting was actually leading to a sort of envy for the copper thieves. I was trying to make an honest dollar off of something I’d invested in and taken care of for years. Those evildoers might attempt to use a shortcut and make a fast buck off of my hard work.

I was in a bad place, physically and emotionally, during that time. Hard work was hard. I was longing for an easier way. There was a bit of a glimmer of jealousy in my heart for those who could make a quick and easy profit, even if they used illegal means. They must have been getting away with it, or it wouldn’t have been such a problem in my town.

No passivity

If I read the rest of the Bible, I know that God doesn’t want or expect us to be passive about evildoing. He urges us to overcome evil with good (Romans 12:21). No passivity there. Instead, an active goodness that intentionally engages with evildoers in spiritual warfare, with the goal of winning. “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink” (Romans 12:20). Jesus was the best model of this lifestyle.

He demonstrated a higher, more effective, more perfect way: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). He loved His enemies enough to die for us so that we could be set free. He chose one of His greatest enemies, Saul of Tarsus (later called Paul), to take His message to much of the ancient world and to write a large part of the New Testament. Love is active, not passive.

Justice

I also need to remember that God’s justice is being done even when I don’t see it. Evildoers suffer from the evil that they do. Drug and alcohol abuse and sexual sin take their toll on people’s minds and bodies and emotions. Those who are selfish and unjust aren’t likely to have deep, meaningful, caring relationships with others. Many evildoers end up in poverty or in prison.***

When I fret because of evildoers, I’m telling God that I don’t believe that He is who He says He is. I’m allowing my own anxiety to overwhelm my trust in Him, rather than recognizing that He’s acting in the name of justice even now.

If He doesn’t stop the evildoing as quickly as I think He should, He has His good and perfect reasons. I can recognize some of them, such as His intense love, which allows us the freedom to choose even when it causes harm. And I know that He loves those evildoers so much that He gives them time to come to Him instead of wiping them off the face of the earth the first time they hurt someone. But He probably has a whole lot more reasons that I don’t know about and that I’m not capable of understanding just yet.

I need to take to heart this admonition not to fret because of evildoers. But abandoning my fretting doesn’t give me permission to be content with or passive about the suffering in this world. Instead, it’s the only way I can experience the freedom and peace and joy that come from loving my enemies and trusting that God knows what He’s doing.

 

 

**Note: When I originally published this article, I used the KJV translation of Psalm 37:1 for two reasons. One, it was the version I was reading when I came across this verse for the first time, when it made the deepest impression on me. Two, I wanted to use the word “evildoers” in the following paragraphs. I checked out a couple of other versions, but they didn’t seem to fit as well.

Soon after I posted it, my pastor quoted this verse in his sermon, reading from the ESV. That translation still uses the word “evildoers,” but the language is more modern. I decided to edit my article, changing the version and a few of my comments, to make it more readable.

***Another note (11/18/24): Can't believe I didn't catch this a long time ago . . . This isn't meant to imply that those who are impoverished are there because they deserve it, or that they are worse evildoers than those who have more money. Evildoing can contribute to poverty, but many other factors do, too.