I Feel the Same

There was a time when I viewed those younger than my current age as old.  I would wonder what it was like to be in their shoes and how they understood the world.  As sure as the imaginary line at youth camp, I would unknowingly cross the unseen boundary.

Marking calendars, I still wonder at the line of demarcation.  Once, a ninety-two year old man said to me, “I know I’m old, but I don’t feel old.”  That man passed, but his words remain fresh in me.  I understand the feeling.

Maturity is more a state than a date.  Once, I saw a televised interview with a youngster who won a gold medal at an event for youth with disabilities.  When asked to describe his feelings, he replied, “The thing you have to remember is that, every time you win, someone else has to lose.”  It would thrill me to hear those words from self-centered idols (American or otherwise) who accomplish less with more.  Growing is not the same as maturing, and, sometimes, youth possess wisdom lost in living.

I find that not all my thoughts and desires changed over the years.  Perhaps, I have made some progress, but I’m not confident enough to take a poll.  While I know a little more, much of my orientation remains the same.

In youth, our goals are unspoiled by crushing realities, and aspirations soar.  In time, however, pragmatism becomes the order of the day, and dreamers are not the same as doers.  In the passage of years, we come to understand the meanings of limitations and the world beyond graduation day.

To hold the wisdom of age and have the joy of youth without cynicism or frivolity would be ideal.  Johnny Cash once said, “Life is rough, and, if a man’s gonna make it, he’s gotta be tough.”  The rigors of living can be more damaging to those without Christ since humanity is their sole resource in trouble and pain.  Despair can be more dark.  The believer has hope and solace in Christ and the calm assurance of eternity evergreen.

I was fortunate to have come to faith in childhood.  My young heart rejoiced at the future that living for Jesus held for me.  When I answered the call into the ministry, it seemed there was no limit to what could be done- what I could do- for the Savior.  However, realities limited possibilities in my experience as they do in every life.  Yet, I feel the same.

It can be difficult to accept and admit the truth that our predictions are not the same as God’s plans.  Coming to grips with boundaries is not fatalistic, but it is sobering.  It behooves us to be learners in our lives.  We do not control outcomes- only input.

Be happy with the life lived in God’s will, knowing  that the kingdom, power and glory are His forever.

Sterl