IT’S GREAT TO GROW OLD

Since many of our readers belong to the older set, I revealed last year the glorious truth that I had attained threescore years. Several letters have arrived since than from folk who are the same age, a few of them even having the same birthday. And we all seem to be in agreement that it is great to grow old, for the heavenly Father could not do his thing with us if we did not.

Now that I have begun my seventh decade-and this is really the way to measure life, in decades, which means I am six going on seven-I have begun to look at what Cicero calls “the play’s last act” with closer scrutiny. I like what I find. It is better to be old than young. Robert Browning, who died in 1899, must have been inspired when he wrote:

Grow old along with me!

The best is yet to be,

The last of life, for which the first was made.

Our times are in his hand.

I find every line packed with meaning, and I would like to make a speech on each one. The first, Grow old along with me, reveals the poet’s sense of fellowship. We share in a pilgrimage—a pilgrimage of joy, in case you haven’t heard that before. Those mothers who make every effort to pass as their daughter’s sister rather than her mother have something to learn from the poet.

The second line also has a lot going for it, a truth I have been slow to learn. I have long realized that it is a pity to waste youth on young people, but I am now coming to see that it is just before the last curtain that “the best is yet to be” and that youth may be for the aged after all. Do not great souls partake more of the oak than of the willow, as Alexander Campbell suggested as he approached six and a half? The great Cato learned Greek after he was 70, and Samuel Johnson was also in his eighth decade when he wrote his lives of the English poets. Cato was also an orator, and one of his great speeches was while he was ambassador to Carthage and it was presented to the Roman tribunal in defense of his policies. His age? 84! Benjamin Franklin was just getting started good in his 70’s, and he was 80 when he helped write the Constitution of the United States. John Q. Adams, after serving as President, went on to serve in Congress in his 80’s, and he was still in his political harness when he died.

Browning’s third line is really for the young, for they must realize that if “old age is the glory of life,” to quote Cicero again, it is glorious only if it is prepared for in youth. I am grieved to see young people waste their time and energy on shallow, frivolous pursuits, for they are not preparing for “The last of life, for which the first was made.” It would never have done if God had started us out old. In his mercy he gave us youth, and it is in youth that we get ready for “the best that is yet to be.” Youth must realize that as one grows older she does not necessarily become better or worse, but more like herself.

Our times are in his hand, the poet reminds us, and if we would only live as if we believed it! Whether we are forty or eighty, whether we live or die, we are his. Rom. 14:8 says something like that. Browning is teaching us, as does the Bible, that when we leave this world, we do not leave home but we are going home. We are only pilgrims here, as great as it is. The best is yet to be! And the best of all is to get to go home. But we do not go home in our youth, not as a rule, but in the autumn of life after the leaves have fallen and the chill of winter has come. After all these years, going home!

Growing old together in Jesus can teach us many things. We learn more decidedly that we do not belong to any race, country, party, or age, but to a future age and to all humanity, and most of all to him who redeemed us.

Age also gives us a better sense of proportion. I think I can see what is really important and what is not so important better than in my youth. I do not get all hot and bothered as I used to about things which do not really matter. I have learned that “This too will pass,” which I have drawn from ancient wisdom.

And of course it is in the autumn of life that God gives us a sense of humor. We can laugh at ourselves more easily, especially when we foolishly try to be young again. Age helps us not to take ourselves so seriously. I think of this when I read of disputes or debates between philosophers and religionists of yesterday. They are all dead now, I say to myself, and I doubt if the issues would be that important to them now.

Age also teaches us responsibility, that we are in this world to be a blessing, to do good, and to help redeem lost humanity. There is a luxury to doing good, a blessed opportunity. At least in our declining years we may learn that it really is more blessed to give than to receive.

And the years teach us about sowing and reaping. I f we spend our lives in search of money and worldly honor, we can hardly complain if we have not attained spiritual heights. It takes time to grow rich, whether in silver and gold or in grace and love. If we squander the years of our youth, we can hardly expect to have heavenly treasures laid up when we are old. When we see an older person rich in faith, hope, and love (and perhaps financial security as well), we are to remember that there is a reason. She started when she was young.—the Editor