Thirteen

September 24, 2018

The origins of the superstition that thirteen is an unlucky number are quite possibly lost to the mists of time. People who study this sort of thing tell us it has something to do with there having been thirteen men gathered around the table at the Last Supper, one of whom was Judas Iscariot, the betrayer of Christ, but proving this beyond reasonable doubt might be somewhat difficult.

Be that as it may, along with walking under ladders, having a black cat cross your path, and stepping on the cracks in a sidewalk, this has persisted to the point where many hotels and public buildings don’t have a thirteenth floor—they skip from twelve to fourteen. For a young person, turning thirteen may be considered a major step in growing up, something longed for. Or it may be the initiation into tumultuous teenage years from which she is not sorry to leave seven years hence. 

My thirteenth year was marked by a singular event that I remember clearly to this day. I was loitering with a couple of my buddies in the local pharmacy, riffling harmlessly through the magazine rack when the store manager strode up to us and summarily kicked us out of his store. Welcome to teenagerhood! I can’t say my teenage years we’re particularly traumatic or difficult, but I never had to expend the energy some of my friends did to maintain their status as “cool.” I was never cool. I wasn’t hot, either, even when playing sax in the dance band. I guess you could say I was lukewarm...room temperature. 

I felt awkward, didn’t know how to fit in with most of the kids at school, and felt more at home in my world of music and church. Odd, how God chose someone like me to be a pastor, leader of a congregation. He certainly has a sense of humor. And it turned out all right. The churches I pastored all grew during my tenure. Maybe in part it was because there wasn’t any possibility of me attracting people by force of dynamic personality. God chooses the ones others overlook, the ones voted least likely to succeed, in order that the glory might go to him. 

Today our granddaughter Madeline turns thirteen. It’s not an unlucky number or year, although at times it might feel awkward to her as she bit by bit masters the business of maturing into a young woman. My prayer is that she will always know the favor of Christs’s smile upon her as she stretches growing wings and learns to fly. I am thankful tonight for her; for her tender heart, her beautiful smile, and her love of music, animals, and Jesus. Happy 13th birthday, Mattie!