I suppose that there are other topics worthy of this morning’s blog, but the occasion of a birthday makes me a bit self-reflective and so I will indulge in a bit of narcissism this today. I’m not a big fan of navel-gazing and I find that I often learn more from looking at others than engaging in self-analysis. But this is a bit of a milestone year for me.

I guess there was a time when I thought 59 was old. I probably once thought that 50 was old. But I don’t feel old. My body is remarkably free from aches and pains. I have energy for my work and enthusiasm for recreational activities. I have been very fortunate in my health and have suffered very few diseases. I am not particularly subject to the various colds and viruses that go around and whatever allergies I had when I was younger seem to have abated. Life is good and I feel blessed.

Still there are several things about being 59. 59 means I have to get serious about planning for retirement. I have resisted thinking about retirement much. I love my work. The ministry doesn’t have a mandatory retirement age. Many pastors are allowed to engage in ministry for many years beyond the traditional 65. I don’t know exactly what I have been thinking about retiring, except that I haven’t been thinking about it much at all. I guess I always assumed that I would work a bit past 65 as long as my health and love for the ministry were strong.

But some things have changed. I am well past the age when it is easy for a minister to change jobs. The simple truth is that no church wants its “new” minister to be someone in their sixties. And 59 is easy to read as “almost sixty.” Jobs that I could have gotten a decade ago are no longer options for me. Older ministers who make moves usually end up doing interim and temporary work, changing jobs every couple of years. And they have to be willing to move a lot.

There is also the simple fact that new leadership cannot emerge when old leaders don’t step aside and share power. The job I have could be done by a younger person. A younger person won’t get a chance to do that job, however, until I step aside and make it available. In an economy where there is a shortage of jobs for young adults there is a bit of selfishness about hanging on to a job when one passes retirement age.

Being 59 means that I simply have fewer career options than I had a decade ago. This is not a complaint. I don’t think that there is something wrong with the world. It is simply the truth. The same factors that made it relatively easy for me to change churches at 32 and 42 years of age make it easier for the people who are now in their thirties and forties to make career changes. It would be sour grapes to enjoy the benefits and then begrudge someone else the same.

But career and calling aren’t the biggest challenge of being 59 for me. Here is the thing that I don’t talk about but that I think about from time to time: My father was 59 when he died. I am not a superstitious person. I don’t go around looking for signs. I know well the factors that make me much different from my father. The course of my life has been different from his, and my destination and ending story will be different as well.

Furthermore, I don’t lack for wonderful examples of men who live long and purposeful lives. I was blessed with the best father-in-law imaginable. Keith lived past his 90th birthday with dignity and grace. In the church I get the pleasure of working with lots of men who have forged meaningful lives into their eighties and nineties. I know that there is much purpose, joy, dignity, and meaning that is yet to emerge in my life. I have seen it in the lives of others.

Beyond that, I don’t think that I am afraid about dying. I know that this earthly journey is only part of the story and that the next adventures are literally beyond our capacity to imagine. I’ve been at the bedside of too many people as they have died. I’ve preached too many funeral sermons to think that death is something to be feared. It is one more of the big transitions of this life.

I’ve thought about it quite a bit and I have no sense that my life is coming to an end just because I’ve counted the same number of years as did my father. I know that counting days or months or years is a poor measure of the worth, the meaning and the beauty of human life.

Of course I cannot avoid comparisons. My father was far more financially successful than I. He had planned and arranged things so that our mother was well cared-for for 30 years of widowhood. His earnings were able to go to supporting several causes that were important to him and provide lasting legacy for others. My impact will be smaller, at least the part of the impact that can be counted in dollars and cents. I have no problem with that. I have chosen a different career path. And I have the good fortune of knowing that my father approved of my vocation and was fully supportive of my ordination. He would be proud, as they say.

So 59 is a year that is momentous for me in some way. There is much to learn. And, fortunately, there is less of me to do the learning. I have been successful in my plan to lose weight and gain stamina and endurance. It is easier for me to run and jump and get down on the ground to play with children than it was a year ago. I will launch a new boat within the next couple of weeks. I will have opportunities to play with my grandson and enjoy our children.

I pray that I have a couple of good sermons and a few more meaningful Bible studies to share. I hope that I have gained some wisdom that helps me avoid some of the mistakes I made when I was younger. And I plan to remain open to new ideas and the energy and enthusiasm of youth if not for my own sake, than at least for the sake of the good people I serve.

59 will likely surprise me. And I like surprises.

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