Denial

One Sunday we checked out a church.
Driving through the parking lot, my husband observed several elderly people, and that the “disabled” parking spaces were full. Disappointed, I instantly assumed a stand-offish attitude made obvious by my raised eyebrows.

“I don’t see myself in this church,” I resisted.

I have a perennial senior moment about my age and my blindness so I’m always critical about these conditions.

I prepared myself to walk into a loud worshipping congregation. Churches in theatrical structures usually play worship music loud enough to damage ear drums, so I keep several sets of earplugs in my purse, just in case. Take note, I also have a Google Pixel Pro earbuds, best for noise cancellation, which I flaunt when I’m around a younger group. This time though, in this particular church, I didn’t need earplugs. The church was in a small building, the music volume was just right and there was no earth-shaking base. The music instruments were traditional, and I thought it sounded “unpa-lumpa-ish”. The songs were old too. My eyebrows raised to a higher altitude thinking I won’t reach high worship.

But, I unconsciously started to sing along with the congregation. In fact, I sang with vibrato when I heard the old lady behind me sing, as if to tell her, “I can do better.”

I scowled when I heard an elderly man was going to preach the message.

“An elderly preacher to match the congregation?” mocked my evil mind. He even possessed the shaking voice characteristic of the fire and brimstone preachers of yesteryears.

But lo and behold, that shaking voice roused the fallow part in my heart that had been longing to hear about my resurrected Jesus who has all authority and power over everything. Unlike other contemporary preaching, this was not a gospel about a user-friendly God dispensing therapy to His anxious buddies with crippling depression. Nor was it about a Prince Charming Jesus who would save us from this evil world to live happily ever after in heaven someday. I really hate the thought that I need to die to be joyful. Don’t get me wrong, I want to go to heaven. But for right now, like Caleb, there are still mountains to conquer. (Take note Kaleb was 80 when he said this.) Neither do I need a holy emotional euphoria that will spur me to cry, laugh and scream all at once and then Monday will feel so-so, business as usual.

The preaching was about Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, the Great I Am, who is anything and everything for my moment. The one who gives me reason to get up every morning to work alongside with Him on the Kingdom-family business. The one who spurs me to stand behind Him fighting giants hindering Kingdom progress.
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This old preacher God sent to us, an old congregation, threw me from denial to a complete surrender!
 
I realized that I’ve bought in to the lie of this youth-oriented culture that espouses “planned obsolescence,” (please Google that for now) and ignored the vast wisdom and resources of elderly people like me. (gulp) 

Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day.
2 Corinthians 4:16

But today I begin my journey to surrendering to God’s natural processes, aka growing old.
  
How do you feel about growing older? Please share stories how older folks have inspired you.