Contentment

July 2, 2019

What will I do when I’m 96? Yesterday I visited my mother, who at that age can do little more than shuffle from her chair to the bathroom and back before she is completely tired out. As she has said, she can’t see to read, has a hard time hearing, can’t get around, so why is she still here, she’d like to know. I told her it was because God was listening to our prayers instead of hers. She didn’t see the humor in my remark. The last time I visited her, she said she needed to look at her situation differently. Instead of complaining to the Lord for keeping her around so long, she needed to start thanking him that nothing hurt and she still has her mind. I thought that was a great idea. But still, all she can do is sit, sleep, and pray. 

By contrast, today after breakfast and time in the Scriptures, I stained the bannister, tore apart the dryer (it has a broken belt), worked on Sunday’s sermon, removed the grinder from my apple press and glued up an oak board to replace the damaged parts, trimmed branches from the ash tree that were overhanging the garage and brushing on the roof, checked on swimmers at Sunnyside, and had a wonderful conversation with Linda and our granddaughter Abi. It was a full and fulfilling day.

I caught a little news, but decided to leave most of it alone. A long conversation yesterday with my friend Rell reminded me of my favorite Psalm: 

“LORD, my heart is not haughty,

Nor my eyes lofty.

Neither do I concern myself with great matters,

Nor with things too profound for me.

Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul

Like a weaned child with its mother,

Like a weaned child is my soul within me.” —Psalm 131

Great and momentous events are happening all around us, and the older I get, the more I realize there are too many “great matters” for this small brain. All I can do is trust and pray. The hard part for me is following the beginning of verse 2–“Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul.” We often ask God to do that, but here it says that calmness and quiet is our job. How do we do this in the middle of the storms that not only rage around us, but also within us? The mystics and contemplatives have wrestled with this for generations, and I am beginning to think that in our exaltation of the Protestant work ethic, we have lost the ability to simply “be” in the Presence of the One who alone can calm the troubled sea.

As I reflect on my life and what I have/haven’t accomplished, I recognize that in my nearly 70 years on this planet, I haven’t done much to change the world. I haven’t even changed the world within me as much as I would like. I haven’t been nearly as successful in evangelism as I wish, which is of great concern to me in light of the Great Commission. What will I say when I stand before the Judge of all the world and he asks, “What did you do with all I gave you?” At times, that is a very sobering thought. But like the story of the young man throwing back into the ocean starfish that had washed up on the beach after a storm, “I may not be able to make a difference for all of them,” as he chucked another into the waves, “but I made a difference for that one.”

Spending time with my friends, some of whom have left us too soon, has heightened my awareness of the fragility of life and the privilege we have of sharing it together. As Ecclesiastes says, “Live joyfully with the wife whom you love all the days of your...life.” I have been given the opportunity to do just that. Maybe it’s the best way I can serve our Lord. If not the best, surely it is a good way, and one most pleasant to me, excepting the times my heart breaks for the pain she suffers, too often because of my stupidity. 

I’ll never be a world-class preacher or evangelist. My music will never make national airwaves, and my hunting ability...well, let’s not talk about that. But tonight I quiet my soul as I turn my mind to the Scriptures and the grace of Christ to which they direct me. I am not 96, but I am blessed, content, and very thankful.