I admit it.
I don’t want to accept the fact that I’m growing older. Maybe that’s why I haven’t joined the senior adult group at church yet–in spite of their interesting programs and even tastier lunches.
Don’t get me wrong. Christianity isn’t just the most important part of my life; it’s what everything else revolves around. So I’m not afraid of death. I’m looking forward to heaven. It will be indescribably superior to this earthly life, which the sins of many generations have tainted far beyond God’s gracious intentions.
Like many other Believers, however, I’m not necessarily looking forward to the trip home. Ah, if only God had promised that Christians would all die painlessly in their sleep. But He didn’t.
At least He promised the assistance of His Holy Spirit through every moment of our lives, even at the moment of death. So I can’t necessarily say I’m scared of the dying process.
But I feel like I’m aging gracelessly. Not gracefully, but gracelessly. Clumsily, as it were.
So why not share my feelings about aging? Not so much to complain about the bad parts, but to communicate with other people who might be going through the same kinds of things.
Both good and bad. Misery may love company, but so does victory.