“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9
I turned 60
today, and I want to encourage young men, middle-aged men, and semi-older men
that life gets better the longer you stay the course. That doesn’t mean the
course is easy, or ever gets easy, but it can get better and much more
fruitful. As a matter of fact, some of your best years could quite possibly be
the later ones.
Take it from
a man who has struggled with course direction most of his life.
My childhood
was mostly spent trying to figure out where I belonged. My parents divorced
before I was born, and I was raised by my grandparents. I spent summers with my
mother in California and my aunt and uncle in Canada. My biological father was
in question, and I often wondered to whom I really belonged. This disunity
produced insecurity and a deep sense of abandonment that would follow me
through most of my adult life.
Added to the
confusion of whose I was, my teen years were spent trying to figure out who I
was. I had little direction, and most of my identity came from trying to
impress wayward friends. My 20s were spent trying to figure out where I needed
to go and what I wanted to be. My 30s were spent going in the completely wrong
direction for nearly a decade. And my 40s were spent recovering from my 30s and
finally getting my bearings in life.
All of these
years left me wondering if I had wasted my life.
To make
matters worse, the common thread that ran through these decades (and every
life) is that word “spent.” It’s gone. I can’t get it back. The specific
transaction is over. The mistakes cannot be undone. The hurt cannot be erased.
The scars will always remain.
And then I
turned 50, and for the first time in my life, I looked back and felt wiser. I
was now an official “elder,” and along with some gray in my beard, I had a
suitcase full of hard-learned lessons that made me shrewder than most men my
age. I grew very serious about things. I saw the urgency of eternity in
everything I attempted.
It was during
this decade of life that I made a serious study of my priorities, time, and values. Serving the Lord, being served by the Lord, leading and loving my
family, spending time with my small circle of close friends, and being as
productive as possible at my job became my top priorities. Everything else was
let go. I learned how to say “No” to good things so I could say “Yes” to the
best things.
Less is
always better when you want to give your best to what matters most. My 50s were
a great decade of reaping redemption and grace.
And just like
that, this decade too is over.
“And
let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do
not give up.” — Galatians 6:9
The good news
of this promise (and it’s all good news) is that it gives the hope of a “due season.”
So, whatever season you are in, there is still a time coming when things buried
and long forgotten will begin to grow. The challenging news of this promise is
that whatever you sow, that you will reap.
The promise
is predicated on “doing good,” and the natural law of “reaping”
is that you reap what you sow; you reap more than you sow; and, of course, you
reap long after you sow.
But the Lord
has ways of redeeming our harvest. After all, if the sowing, growing, and “doing
good” were all up to us, all our reaping would be rotten. That’s why Paul
said, “I
planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.” (1
Corinthians 3:6) God always gives the growth. And even when seeds seem
recklessly scattered, nothing is random. Some will eventually find their place
in the good ground (Luke 8:8).
My 50s were
one of those “due
seasons,” spent enjoying the fruit of some of those scattered
seeds, where God graciously gave the growth. I became a better husband, a
better dad, and a better friend. I became a grandfather. I became more
comfortable with who I was. Most importantly, I became more satisfied with who
I belonged to. I was a child of the King! All of this was a gracious harvest
redeemed by the Lord. Had I given up along the way, none of it would have been
reaped.
I turn 60
today, and I realize (if the Lord allows) I may have two or three decades left.
And by God’s strength, I am not weary. And by God’s grace, I’m still doing good.
And by God’s sovereign providence, I will not give up.
And this “due season” continues to grow. I’m still passing out that little book, Wrestling with an Angel, and receiving encouraging messages from people who have been blessed by my son’s story.
Jake, who is now an old man of 33, is still teaching me hard lessons of God’s grace.
I’m still traveling with Guidelight, bringing biblical hope and practical help to families experiencing childhood disability. I’m still teaching the Bible at Redemption Church. I’m still loving and leading my family (that now includes four grandchildren). I’m still a police officer, although I spend more time at a desk now than on the street.
I’m still a son of the King. I'm still a trophy of God’s mercy and grace.
You may notice, I have replaced the word “spent” with the word “still.”
I look
forward to these final years. The finish line is not quite visible yet, but I
hear other older runners telling me, “It’s close. It’s right around the corner.
Don’t get tired now. Don’t give up. The prize is up ahead. Jesus is at the
finish line waiting for you.”
“Let
us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not
give up.”
