A Letter to My Future Adult Children

Well, here we are, kids. I can still call you “kids”, right? Then again should I even have to ask that question? Really, I mean, if I changed your diapers when you were babies, then aren’t I deserving? Now that I think of it, lets be fair, you’re adults and presumably married in the future, which means you are more than likely taking advantage of your mother and I by bestowing upon us babysitting duties every other weekend with your young children. That is basically a part-time job of which you are not paying us. Therefore, I can still call you whatever I wish. Ok ok, let me relax – if you know your father then you know that once his brain gets going…ohhh it gets going. Sidenote, can these cheesy-like jokes be considered dad jokes if one’s children are not even alive yet??? Mind blown? I digress.

I am writing this letter in the year 2020. Seven years ago I wrote a similar letter to your mother titled A Letter to My Future Wife of 50 Years [Link Here]. I love your mother more than you know. This current letter, however, is to you in the future – our young adult children.

Until my dying breath, I thank God for you. I don’t know how many of you there will be. Neither am I aware of what gender or how many are adopted. That said, regardless, I am very proud of you even as I write this letter today. For God has already placed a love for you in my heart. Isn’t it crazy how God has wired us?

I have a few things to say to you:

First things first, is rap music still a thing? Does Justin Bieber’s son have his own Disney Channel television show? Can you send your mother and I somewhere nice and expensive for our next big anniversary? Please answer those questions carefully.

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In addition:

  • Tell jokes whenever the time is right. Tell jokes and stories that border on lies. If you tell jokes when the time isn’t right, well that is a good thing too.
  • Tell the truth. Or at least do not lie. Always always always lean on truth even when the immediately foreseeable outcome is bad as a direct result of telling the truth.  You see, if you act in truth then the eventual order you produce down the line will be good regardless of how it appears at the current moment.
  • Believe in the myths told in books and movies. The magical myths within fairy tale stories are not an end in themselves nor are they lies. Myths are the opposite of a lie. Myths convey the essential truth of the primal reality of life itself. The stories point to the archetype of Christ. Human creativity and imagination is God’s image in us for us to soak in.
  • Seek for what is meaningful in life. Do not search for mere happiness or convenience. This includes the old adage, “do not settle”. Ultimately, you will always find the truest meaning in Christ. This will always sustain you. This will fulfill you.
  • Learn as much history as soon as you can. History is God’s artistic canvas on display for us to watch. There is power and protection in that. Man tells his story with words while God tells His story with history.
  • Think for yourself and do not let mankind dictate what you believe. As 2 Corinthians would say, “examine your faith and honestly test yourselves” to make sure you are going in the right direction. This passage applies to all of life. Therefore, pay attention to the direction that you are walking and to who is guiding you. Periodically ask yourself, “What remarkably stupid things am I doing on a regular basis that are/can screw up my life”? Decide that you want to know the answer to that question.
  • Keep in contact with your friends. This will be tougher as you get older. Befriend people who want the best for you. Surprise them. Show grace. Call them out when they are wrong. Demand them to call you out as well. Encourage them. Be encouraged by them. 
  • Travel and Learn a new language. Dive deep into different cultures and swim in learning about them. Other cultures will broaden you life by bringing in newness. Listen to worship songs in other languages. 
  • Talk to the elderly when you encounter them on the street. Do not take this one so lightly. Sit with them and listen to what they have to say even if it comes off as nonsense. Assume that they know something that you do not.
  • Tell your mother that you love her every chance you can. She is your most unique best friend and your biggest fan.
  • Constantly increase your faith in the Lord. Be bold and courageous in Him.

 

If you can tell, even now I am taking things quite lightheartedly. Life is a complex matter, my children. There will ups and down as if your spiritual walk is a roller coaster at times. There is an element of life which is suffering. The Bible is clear on this fact and history proves it.  So stand up straight with your shoulders back, do not complain, pick up your suffering and bear it so that you do not make it worse. Try to reduce the suffering and start with yourself by not acting/thinking like a victim. Every human being is a victim – deal with it. Be a better person by leaning on the power of the Holy Spirit. In doing this it will always be alright.

As you are reading this in the future I am likely an old man. We have had many arguments over the years because that is a part of being a family. I am sure there are some of your life choices that I have disagreed with – and that is ok. We are all still growing. Philippians 1:6 says that “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ”; meaning that everything is going to work out in the end. I am sorry for the times that I messed up with each of you. I am sorry for the times I came off as unloving. I am thankful for the good times to come. I am for you.

I pray that you know the peace of God. Be kind and true, my blessed children. 

Till We Have Love

This is my complaint:

Every beautiful strength has a hideous weakness. My brother, Mufasa, is truly a trendsetter of that adage.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother. I have always wanted the best for him. However, the kingdom of the Pride Lands was turning into a nation bound for doom due to his weak incompetence. That said, I refused to call him King Mufasa as the rest of the nation does. I love him far more than any political title can represent.

My name is Scar; the younger sibling to Mufasa and frequently seen as the Ghost of Christmas Past in his shadow. Mufasa was always the “good” one in the eyes of others. He foolishly relied on his Faith. Even through it all, I was never jealous of Mufasa – to the contrary I loved him but simply disagreed with his ways of doing things.

Mufasa and I were inseparable growing up. Mother used to say that we counted on one another from birth. There has always been a joy-filled pride in me when it comes to my brother. I looked up to him. He was the fastest in the pack, he had the 2nd best looking mane (second to myself of course), and his leadership presence was quite satiable. Rafiki, who serves as shaman of the Pride Lands, spoke of Mufasa as, “Having a temperament rivaled only by the angels.”  But a boring temperament if you ask me. He’d always waste many hours a day staring at the distant mountain gorge. Foolish.

We had plans to rule Pride Rock together, but the political tradition of our nation put my brother as the sole heir to the throne. Before his crowning, I pleaded with him three times to instead fight with me so that we could rule together. This was for the good of him, me, and the kingdom itself. I failed miserably in my attempts.

Things worsened when his son was born. Whatever piece of intimacy our relationship had left was forfeited over to his investment in Simba, the next heir to the throne. That was the real day I lost my brother – not today.  I love Simba, but Mufasa needed a brother in arms not a little kid in waiting. See, Mufasa cannot sustain this nation without me. We are best when we have each other which, in turn, benefits society.

Therefore, I am writing this letter to you, Lord, with my fist raised. My complaint comes against you. Even though I have done nothing but serve and honor my family their entire life, they have given nothing in return but pain, grief, and destruction toward me. Even more scary is that it can affect the Pride Lands. You are a cruel God who must be blind to the needs of this world. I recognize that I am powerless before you, but if there is one thing I can do against you, it is to make my complaint known by speaking it to the nation.  

Before Mufasa fell to his death, I tried once more to reason with him. The plan was not for
him to die. To the contrary, you know that it was simply scarto scare him into submission. No one is at grief more than I. It was the hardest decision of my life. Even then you could have saved him but you failed.  What do you have to say for yourself?  You have no answer.


Dear Scar,

my name is Leo. I am a head angel in Heaven writing this letter to you on behalf of our Father God, our Savior Jesus, and The Holy Spirit.

We have heard your complaint in Heaven and watched your life long before receiving your letter. The Father watched your life even before there was a second of it. You are worse than you think you are, but you are more loved than you can ever imagine you are. There are many things that you will not understand, but I will try:

In one way or another everyone on earth is just like you. You are the bitter cynic who cannot possibly understand the love between God and his creation. None of you understand. Your perspective of the very love that you claim to have for your brother is infected by your fallen heart. We know you loved your brother. No one “on Earth” loved Mufasa as much as you loved him. You loved him overbearingly so.

The feeling that you call love has ended in the death of your only brother and the estrangement of your nephew. And now you put God on the judgement seat?

Mufasa used to wake up in the mornings and stare at nature. He’d think to himself, “The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing – to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from – the place where I ought to have been born.” Do you think it all meant nothing, all that longing

What do you long for, Scar?

The Mountain that Mufasa longed for was The Kingdom of God. The Mountain you long for is one of yourself. Without the Divine Love which comes from God, any other love become corrupted. Any other type of love turns in on itself and becomes narcissistic. For example, without the presence of selfless divine love, the beautiful gift of erotic love becomes lust-based and power-based. This is when so marriages break down. fourLoves

The “joy-filled pride” for your brother turned in idolatry. It grew to the point of wanting him to be at a height of perfection that is unachievable on earth. Mufasa was always destined to be crippled in your eyes, no matter what philosophy he followed or action he implemented. Your love of the Pride Lands and every living creature in it drove your fear into manipulation and control.

Instead of following the God that Mufasa follows, you created your own version of God that only saw life how you see it. You have a wicked heart. The nature of sin isn’t always the obvious bad thing. Sin can also be the internal twisting of good things by the heart. You would rather kill your brother than have him attain joy apart from you.


Dear beloved Leo,

Had I known before how the Angels watch earth, I would’ve shuttered at the very thought of an audience to my humiliation. I now see that it was not they who treated me so wrongly, but me who treated others wrongly. I am my worst enemy – Not anyone else and certainly not God.

All my life I doubted the validity of the love which comes from Faith. For now all I can tell, the only difference [between our love and God’s love] is that what many on earth “feel” we call a real thing, and what only one feels we call a myth. But things that many feel may have no taste or moment in them at all, and things that are felt only to one may be waterspouts of truth from the very depth of Truth.

Now I see well why God did not speak to me and used you instead. Till the true understanding of love can be dug out of us, why should He listen to the babble that we think we mean? How can He talk to me about love till he gives me His love?

God is the answer to my question. In front of His love, all questions die away. What other answer would suffice?

The Young Boy And His Fear of Dogs

 

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Young Todd could barely catch his breath as the neighbor’s dog attempted to chase him down. He hid behind the playground wall that was just high enough to cover his entire body. Todd’s heart pounded with fear as he tearfully pleaded with his own thoughts for the dog to go away. In his mind this was a matter of his life being on the line. He was a long ways from home at this point.

The young boy had always struggled with a borderline phobia of dogs. Dogs were mean, hateful, and always seemed to chase or bark at him relentlessly. He had never even patted a puppy before for the fear that the puppy would bite him. Though his brothers would love to own a puppy one day, their parents have always opposed because of Todd’s fear.

After less than a minute of searching for Todd, the neighbor’s dog finally gave up and left. Little did the young boy understand, all the dog wanted to do was play. Still, in Todd’s head, that dog wanted to eat him skin and bones. No sense in taking chances and playing with fire.

By the time Todd made it back home his mother was standing on the porch, tapping her foot. Frustration was practically stemming from her – “Where have you been, Todd? You’re supposed to be home by 7:30 and you’re not supposed to be out alone either. It is 9:00; your brothers are already in bed and we’ve been worried sick.”

“But but Mm Mom,” stuttered Todd, “Brodie jump over the neighbor’s fence again and chased me all the way to the park.”

Remorseful, but still frustrated, “Ok Todd. Come inside. But you’ve got to eventually get over your fear. Dogs aren’t here to hurt you. One day I hope you’ll understand that.”

Todd and his mother went inside the house where there were leftovers ready for him on the table.

His mother still concerned said, “Todd, I’m going to pray over you. Heavenly Father, I thank you for my son. For his heart, his laughter, and his joy. We thank you for the gift of life. I want to ask that you take away the fear of dogs from my son. Help him see that dogs aren’t dangerous. Help him see that you created them in all their beauty. In Jesus name we pray, Amen.”

After finishing up dinner, Todd heads to bed and is tucked in by his mom.

“Goodnight, Todd.”

“Goodnight, Mom.”

That is when it happened:

Next thing Todd knows he is in a dream. Though, apart from most dreams, this dream seemed magically real. Todd starts off walking through the lobby of a building. His is the only one around but can hear slight commotion from behind the walls. Suddenly, tall, light brown double doors appeared that led to behind the walls. Oddly enough, at the moment, Todd had no sense of fear. Having nowhere else to go he opened the doors to walk through.

Todd was now in a gigantic room filled with people everywhere – so many that he could not count. Todd was a short kid anyways, so even if he could count that high he would not be able to see overhead enough to look yonder. The sea of people parted as they created a pathway for the young boy. By this point all the chatter settled and all eyes were on Todd as he naturally walked down the aisle. It was as if Todd knew where to go. On the other hand, he had no other direction to go. Still, there was a strange sense of peace in him.

Eventually his gaze left the crowded people to focus straight ahead up the aisle. What he almost saw now was a man – though he wasn’t fully a man. Todd vision was distorted a little as his eyes tried to figure out what he was looking at. He’d never seen a man like this before. He was half man, half spiritual-like, wearing a long robe. When Todd was finally directly in front of the man his eyes finally adjusted to see the angelic being in front of him. Todd was in awe. The hairs on the man’s head were white, like snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire. Still, Todd felt a calmness that he never felt before.

The man standing before Todd then slightly bent over to hover above him.

“Hello Todd,” stated the man. His voice threw Todd off guard. The man’s voice was not simply that of a human’s voice. It sounded similar to the roaring waters he had heard when his family went white water rafting. “I love you. I am going to put a crown on your head. Right now, I want you to see my creation the way I see my creation!”

Instantly, dozens of dogs came from behind the angelic man coming toward Todd. Though his inclination was to panic, this time he could not do so. The dogs looked different. He could absolutely see they were dogs. That did not change. What Todd sees now is “Love” in the dogs. It was as if Todd was looking at multiple real-life hieroglyphics in a 4th dimension. Todd can see his mother, his father, brothers, his favorite teacher, his favorite food, all his warm life moments, AND each dog simultaneously…all while he looks at the dogs. Todd could not believe it. For the first time he did not want to run. He wanted hug all the dogs. And that is exactly what he did. With all joy.

The man, still standing there then uttered, “You see Todd, I create Love. Nothing that I create is bad.  You view things dimly. I have the ability to open your eyes to more joy. Now wake up, and see”.

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What If My Nephew Was Sex Trafficked?

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Hate, Anger, and Helplessness…

would be my three predominant thoughts if my little nephew was taken from my family and put into the bondages of the sex trafficking world. A criminal prostitution enterprise that is prevalent throughout the world, holding 25 million people as slaves and earning $32 billion per year. Here in Atlanta we’re among one of the hubs. If my nephew were to be abducted, I can accurately envision how my life would ensue afterwards:

The world around me would feel as if it were in flames. Not a day would pass where I had not spent time searching for him. I would go from hotel to hotel and constantly search Craigslist for explicit listings as if I were a potential customer myself – hoping to find something that could potentially lead to my nephew. It would be disheartening to see how most people are unaware of what is going on right under their noses. On our streets. In our society.

My time spent with family and friends would gradually diminish. My family would remind me too much of my nephew so I would avoid them altogether. My friends would irritate me, as their continual attempts of consolation would fail to physically help bring my nephew back any sooner. My friends would only slow me down from my mission of finding him.

My mornings would be spent in silence in order to effectively plan where I’d go searching during my lunch break at work. There would be no more lunch with co-workers or going to the gym after work. Every single second of my day would have a predetermined purpose. My work productivity would decline. Matter of fact, I’d eventually have disdain for my male co-workers. Statistically, the most sex trafficking customers are middle and upper class males. The average victim receives 40-50 customers a night. I would reason, or what we call to be reason in this world, that statistically anyone around me could be my nephew’s customer.

There will be glimpses of hope though: some nights I will dream of him being saved and returning to our family. Yet, to the contrary, the majority of my nightly dreams would be of men on top of him. Electrocuting and cutting him whenever he disobeyed. Forcing him to perform hard labor during the day. I would wake up in sweat and tears many nights. Other nights I’d be too afraid to shut my eyes for the fear of what would be envisioned next. Nightmares would become a kind of ritual.

6389490_orig.jpegDuring the day I’d again dream of him returning. Then I would realize that could welcome other heaps of trouble. My loving nephew who loves playing the drums, wishes The Ninja Turtles were a real, and thought the movie Inside Out was simply “ok” at best…. would never be mentally nor emotionally the same kid again. His youthful vitality and zeal will be shattered by the evils of this world. He may likely have depression, guilt, shame, HIV/AIDS, sleeping disorders, PTSD, etc.

 

If my nephew were taken my spiritual faith could go either direction. Sure I may push in closer to God, rely fully in Him and sing hymns all day. However, if I’m honest, that would be extremely difficult. Most of my time I would likely go the opposite way (I am reminded of a dear friend who wrote a blog post a few years back of her mom being literally days away from dying of cancer. She was emotionally broken but her faith and thankfulness in God was somehow strong. I remember thinking to myself, “Wow, I want that strength, but I would be going completely insane if I were in her shoes.”) It would be very tough to focus on the goodness of God. At the same time, my prayer life would sky-rocket because I would understand how limited I am and the miraculous power God has in saving my nephew. 

If I were given the chance to be face to face with my nephews capturers, would I kill them? I honestly do not know. But physical harm and unforgiveness would be on my mind for sure. That is what makes Jesus dying on the cross so much more crazy. If Jesus is real – if Jesus did die on the cross – and He is real and, yes, he did die and resurrect this means that God watched as we beat His son senseless, cut him bloodied, and massacred his body continually as if He were a piece of trash. Those tears and blood were for us because we needed Jesus to die for the forgiveness of our sins. He”undeservingly” did so because He loves us; especially the children. Jesus also loves the child molesters and desperately wants them to truly follow Him as well. That is grace.

That type of love is supernatural and beyond my comprehension. I guess that is why He is God and I’m just an uncle. That said, if you do not think there are millions among millions of people being sexually abused everyday and sold then you are tremendously mistaken. What are we going to do about this monumental problem?

Hey, everything is alright though. My nephew is fine. Haha, forget about the other 25 million women, children, and men involved in human trafficking. I will sleep well tonight. So will you, right?

Again, seriously, what are we going to do about this?

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Abortion, Cancer, and Netflix Marathons

With arthritis-ridden knees and a cancer-stricken body, the older gentleman laid there in his hospital bed. Being in his last stage of life, Brian’s body was barely functional and his lowly speech was almost undetectable. Neither was his vision as clear as it once had been. Nevertheless, through all the chemotherapy he was blessed to still have a sharp brain in his last few days of life. This came in handy, as the only two things he had left in his life were his relationship with Christ and family.

Brian’s granddaughter, Alex, walks into the hospital room. They say it is not right to have “favorites” amongst family members – however, the old man adored Alex. Not only was she his favorite but she also was following in his footsteps by attending his college Alma mater, Clemson University. She was entering into her junior year majoring in history and sociology. She’d visit him regularly during his early stages of cancer. A hint of jealousy would sometimes flow through his veins as he noticed the energetically familiar gleam in his granddaughter’s eyes as he listened to her tell stories of her adventures in Clemson.

Today is different. She is different. Brian noticed, through his blurry vision, an unfamiliar facial expression on Alex’s face as she walked in. Her footsteps slow and purposeful. Her posture tense. She avoided eye contact. “Oh gosh, this can’t be good” Brian joked aloud in a whisper, attempting to put a smile on Alex’s face.

“Morning, Grandpa,” Alex began, “you’re probably wondering why I haven’t visited you in a while. I’ve been wanting to ask you something about your past.”

Those words naturally developed nervousness in the elderly gentleman. He immediately began thinking of every wrong he may have done in the past. “Go ahead Sweetheart,” Brian managed to reply in a soft voice.

Alex continued, “As I’ve gotten deeper into history courses I’ve noticed some things that worry me. We’ve studied the horrific atrocities of the Holocaust and how people stood around and did nothing. We’ve studied the amazing neglect of the treatment of blacks before and during the Civil Rights Movement. In your time, abortion was a hot, problematic issue. It was a brutal, disgusting ordeal. The sophistication of science grew during your time to undoubtedly prove that you were taking lives.”

Alex paused for a few seconds in order to regain emotional composure. She glanced away, nervously avoiding eye contact, and then continued, “The death toll of Joseph Stalin’s regime was 40 million. Hitler’s was 30 million. From 1973-2015 alone, America murdered 56 million babies. What on earth were you all thinking and what did you do to try to stop it?”

Silence ensued. Memories of Netflix marathons, Super Bowl parties, YouTube videos, innumerable hours at the gym, and girls flooded the old man’s mind as the remembered the things he focused on during that time period.

He sluggishly responded, “But … back then … science was cloudy on that topic. With limited technology anyone was able to back either side with science. “ Brian hoped that answer would be sufficient and she’d move on.

“What about the fact that the Bible already gave you the truth?” Asked Alex.

“Sweetheart…” the old man pleaded; as to again insinuate the desire for a topic change.

Noticeably unsatisfied with that response, Alex leaned further into his bedside. She looked into Brian’s eyes as if she was begging to hear something more satisfactory. “Grandpa, please tell me I’m wrong. See, it seems that you and America were just as apathetic and indifferent on abortion as Hitler was with the killing of Jews. As if you were killing babies and loving it. What is worse is that the babies had no chance of even defending themselves. Did you at least stay up at night worrying about the large number of children that died in the womb that day? Most of the abortions had nothing to do with difficult circumstances but rather a means of convenience.”

Finally calming down, Alex’s speaking pace slowed, “Sorry … for randomly throwing all this at you. It’s just frustrating … to know all the horrendous things that happened during your time, namely to unborn children, and knowing that you were there. That you claimed to love Jesus. To love people. But you sat idle, as millions upon millions of helpless lives were loss. It is embarrassing to know that my grandfather was a part of that generation and did not stand up for the murder of babies.”

Vexed with shame, the old man laid still in his bed. The pain of his granddaughter’s disgust outweighed the physical pain of his cancer. Expectantly, his heart could take no more. His heartbeat grew uncontrollably fast into a cardiac arrest. Alex yelled for a doctor. Tears feared her eyes.

“I’m sorry Grandpa!” she exclaimed.

“No. No. No, I’m sorry … Alex” he exhaled – his final breath.

Suddenly, Brian awoke from his deep sleep. He was young again, sitting on the couch with his laptop in his lap. He realized it was all a dream. He glanced at his laptop to see an internet article on abortion. Presumably, he concluded that the article must have put that nightmarish dream in his mind when he read it before his nap.

Brian turns on the television. “Ha, weird dream there”, he thinks to himself. “At least I got a good nap out of it.” He opens Netflix. “Now it’s time to continue Season 5 of Friends. Ross just found out that Chandler and Monica are dating now!”

 The hand of an 8-week old. Aborted after 8 weeks.

The Old vs The Young: The Battle of the Ages

Haha, silly old man,” were the mental words I muttered as I watched the elderly gentleman performing awfully-sluggish lunges in front of me.  “Silly old man, what are you doing in the gym? You can barely move as it is. What has your life come? Simple drudgery. Your wrinkled old skin and fragile bones… What you need to do is go backwards in age about 50 years and then copy me. Silly man.

Over a five-second time span, those were the literal thoughts that formed in my mind as I glanced at the 70-year-old man working out. It’s scary how hurtfully prideful and sinful my initial thoughts were. Suddenly, my attention shifted to his facial expression. He had a sharply keen stare in his eyes – as if he were remiss to the workout machines and people surrounding him. It was as if he truly believed that he was the only person present in the gym. Even the gym itself seemed to not have been anywhere on his radar. My common sense finally appeared and it then dawned on me that he surely must have been there for a reason. Maybe he’s had a recent health scare and is at the gym by doctor’s orders. Maybe he wants to get in shape to show his wife that he “still has it” at his age. Maybe he has no one and nothing in his life and just wants to feel something again. Then I realized that that day of old age, regardless of circumstance, is coming for me with just a blink of an eye. With just…the blink of an eye.

It was only a few days ago that I was in Kindergarten learning how to write my home address and Mrs. Hill told me how well I was doing. I remember the layout of the classroom, where I sat, and the excitement I felt. What is it about youthfulness that blinds our eyes from seeing just how fragile and short life is? Psalm 39:5 and 101:15 are going to compare our lives to a single breath and our days to grass in the field. The latter verse further says that the wind blows the grass away and the ground remembers its place no more. What it’s saying is that as people age, the generation underneath them will begin to disregard and neglect them more and more. As much as I love my parents, my future children will not have that same tangible love for them and will not care to be around them as much. In a few generations after me, they will not even remember my name. Such a truthful picture that the Bible paints. That doesn’t really make us feel warm inside, but hopefully that does clear up some blinders.

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But silly me. Silly us. Here’s the thing about old age…here’s how the Bible is going to  portray old age…it consistently glorifies it. The entire Bible says that wisdom comes with years. Proverbs 22:15 will say that folly is in the heart of a child. Why do we fear aging so much? Why do we ignore the wisdom and companionship of the older generations? Oh how Satan has twisted our society so that we have a natural divide amongst generations.

For almost a year now I have been in a small group with a predominantly older crew. In this group, I have realized that I am a lot more dumb than I am wise. I know theology – I can chat church history or apologetics, switch to politics or engineering and sprinkle it with sports … but every time I am around them, their wisdom blows me away and greatly humbles my prideful ignorance. It reminds me of how much I have yet to live through and learn. As a wise pastor once said, “Nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing teaches like LIFE.” We can read all the books we want, we can watch all the Youtube videos and BBC documentaries, we can get all the face-lifts and take all the youth pills we need, we can do everything right externally – but in the end, what matters is the internal. Wisdom. Character. Courage. The Heart. Spiritual depth. And only years of living life teach all of that.

To paraphrase King Solomon’s candor in Ecclesiastes 7, he says “Who cares how many likes you get on Instagram if at the end of the day you’re pretending as if you’re not drowning on the inside. The Wise hang out with people that will encourage, rebuke, guide them closer to Christ. While the Fools surround themselves with people that are stuck in the same ditch that they are currently in.” Even though I wrote a blog on Christian dating a few weeks ago… it was only a few months prior that I was very close to asking an unbeliever out on a date. Biblically, I know the tremendous stumbles it could cause. I have even warned my own friends away from this a few times. However, things were different when the shoes were on my foot. I mean, this girl had a cute smile and could dance! Stick a fork in me, I’m easily done. Well, when I confronted the men in my small group about my plans, each of them lovingly told me how stupid that idea was.  And here’s the thing, I had a legit plan and even scripturally spoke on how it could work. But they shut it down immediately and I came back to my senses. See, I needed that because I already had myself deceived. We may never verbally say it, but we definitely act like we’re invincible and that we know everything. But King Solomon would say that it would be wise to have older, godly friends sometimes … because they can see things that we are blind in seeing.

Older men and older women, we need you. Please come into our lives. Otherwise we are bound to make the same cyclic-mistakes as the generations before us.  Lord knows we need to do life together. Imagine the spiritual growth that would take place from the integration. Think of the amount of vitality that it could bring to the older generation. I pray that this happens. May Christ be glorified through it all. May his Spirit guide us in our youth and sustain us through our old age.

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