Listening to Elvis or Usher

Vivian and I were preparing lunch. She took a pear, cut it in half, then moaned. “Look, it's black inside. I waited too long. I should have eaten it sooner, when it was fresh. We should buy food daily and eat it when it is fresh. I like my food fresh. I don't like old food. I don't like anything old.”

I thought about that for a moment, then responded, “You don't like anything old? Well that certainly does not bode well for me.”

Recently we traveled to Mt. Carmel, a retreat center near Alexandria, Minnesota, for a reunion of classmates from Luther Seminary. We graduated in 1969, so 45 years have passed.

Someone did the math. About 20 percent of our class is no longer with us on this earth. One couple, with plans to attend, had to stay home; the wife was diagnosed with cancer. Some of my old friends wear hearing aids, one has Parkinson's disease, a spouse told of her hip surgery, and most confess to various aches and problems with memory.

Besides the plain fact that we are all pretty old and get reminded of our mortality on a fairly regular basis, we also deal with retirement in different ways. Some got used to the idea in a couple of minutes. Others are having a more difficult time.

I don't know this for sure, but my best guess is that for some there is the real sense that they no longer have anything to contribute, they no longer have value. Maybe some of you reading these words understand that.

There is a prayer in the Old Testament entitled Psalm 71. It is the prayer of an older person, asking that God not forget. “Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my strength is spent.” Then these words: “So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me.”

What I say now has been said by others with greater knowledge and insight, but hear it again. If you can identify with me and my seminary classmates, if you are of the same vintage, know that you do have value, that you do have much to contribute. We have what the young do not have yet. We have lived. We have experience. Oh, we may have trouble with technology, but we know something about humanity, about sadness and joy, loss and death. We have some understanding about what counts finally, what is important in life and what can be tossed aside.

May I say we have gained a bit of wisdom, which will not count for much when it comes to how to work the remote, but is a wonderful contribution when it comes to relationships. Is there perfection in us? Certainly not. We too are mighty sinners. But I noticed something at our four day gathering at Mt. Carmel. We laughed. We laughed a lot. We laughed at ourselves and with one another. This too, I heard no unkind word spoken, no complaint about another's presentation or question. We were kind to each other. We no longer had to prove anything or ask for approval. Not a bad lesson to learn early in life.

When we first enter this world, there is no expectation that we do anything in order to receive attention and affection. We are loved and cared for by just being. We are receivers, nothing more. I suggest that some of us will leave this world in the same way. Our bodies and our minds worn out, so we have nothing left to give. But we still are, and by just being we still have value.

You came into this world a child of God, created in the very image of God. That image does not fade with the passing of years. There may be lines on your face reflecting years of hard work and hard learning, but you are still God's little one, precious and loved.

If you, dear reader, are not yet at this place in life, then may these words encourage you to take note of those in your family or neighborhood who are, who would rather listen to Glenn Miller or Elvis (who, by the way, were he still living, would be celebrating his 80^th birthday next January) than Taylor Swift (a mere 25 in December) or Usher. Take note of these older folk and allow them to bring to the table of life what they have to offer: experience, wisdom, laughter, and some spare time.

You may not want to ask us old people to fix your computer or program your smart phone, but we could help you with some insights into how to raise kids, get along with your brother-in-law, live on a tight budget, or not take oneself too seriously.

For we will tell you that life really is short. So pay attention to what counts. Pay attention to things like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

You don't need an “app” for any of the above. They are bestowed upon us from above, from the God who created all things to be good. They are gifts, not to be stored away for a later day, but best opened now and used on a daily basis.

Recently, while visiting our son in Silver Spring, we took the metro to the Washington Mall. On the way home I got separated from Vivian and our daughter, so I was riding the train alone. I asked a woman sitting near about the station where I would exit the train. She told me which stop my station would follow. Then a man sitting next to her said, “I will tell you when we get to the station you need.” He did. I knew I would never see this good gentleman again, who had helped me on this brief journey, so as I got up to leave, I touched his shoulder and said, “Have a good life.”

It is what I say to you today, wherever you are on this journey. Have a good life.

Gary