Growing Older with Wisdom, Not Bitterness

I didn’t like turning fifty.

Turning thirty didn’t bother me at all. Turning forty I barely remember because I was so busy with young children, work, homeschooling, and church. But turning fifty was a little worrisome because it was the first decade that sounded even remotely “old” to me. It was hard to believe that I had been alive for half a century.

And now soon, very soon, I’ll be turning fifty-nine, which, if you’re counting, gives me just one more year before I turn sixty. When my husband turned sixty a few years ago, I remember saying breezily to him, “Aww, it’s fine! Sixty is the new forty!” But now the shoe is on the other foot and I’m finding myself clinging fondly to my fifties because they’re actually looking pretty good to me right now, and that decade sounds quite young, especially when it’s mostly in the rearview mirror.

Probably my sixties will eventually feel as comfortable as my fifties do now—and I’m sure a few encouraging minutes of conversation with a woman who is older than I am would confirm that fact—but right here, right now, knocking at the door of almost-sixty, it’s a little hard to swallow.

It’s especially hard because of this sad fact about my immediate family: the women on my mother’s side have all died fairly young—in their fifties and sixties. They all had various illnesses and lifestyle issues that contributed to their early deaths, but still, I’m acutely aware of this pattern in my family. And right around the time I turned fifty was when I realized that, no matter what God has in mind for my life span, I’m closer to the finish than I am to the start.

It may be that I’ll be granted a few more decades in this life, and die in a “good old age, full of years” (Genesis 25:8). Or it may be that my life may be cut short sooner than that. God only knows, and it gives me comfort to know that God has always known my whole story and that he holds it in his hands.

Psalm 90 (the only psalm written by Moses), contains one of my favorite verses related to aging—one that has more meaning for me now than it did ten years ago:

What does Moses mean by this? We often focus on the poetic “to number our days,” but recently I focused more on what comes before it: “So teach us.” Notice that the psalmist is asking God to teach us how to think about the time given us here on earth—because otherwise we would be taught by our own frail and unreliable egos or by the world’s noisy voices that bombard us every day. As we grow older, our culture would have us focus on ourselves, spending our time and money in a desperate attempt to hang onto our youth, or spending our days in a state of “well-deserved” self-indulgence. But when we allow God to teach us how to age, the later years of our lives will look very different. We may not retain our youthful appearance, and we may not have a life of easy and aimless leisure, but we will have gained something much more important and eternally significant. We will be aging with grace, humility, contentment, and purpose.

And what’s our reward in following God’s way of numbering our days? We “get a heart of wisdom”. I’ve known people who did not gain a heart of wisdom with age, and one thing that nearly all of them had in common is bitterness—about their past, their circumstances, their job, their home, their children, their spouse, their church, their health. They were bitter or resentful about the hand they’d been dealt in life. But the wisdom that we gain with age, as we focus on what God is teaching us, helps us age with grace and live with purpose and at peace with God. A hallmark of a heart of wisdom is that it is free of bitterness.

But bitterness ran deep in my family, and I struggled with contentment for many years. One tremendous blessing of growing older is that contentment comes more easily to me now. Deep dives into the Bible, especially into the Paul’s life and letters, have been especially helpful. In his letter to the Philippians, Paul taught me that I could be content in all circumstances: “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content … I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:11b, 13). I know from experience that it can take many years of reading and rereading this passage before being able to rest in the contentment that Paul describes, and claim these verses honestly as your own.

Paul’s last letter is especially poignant and meaningful to those who are growing older. He’s imprisoned in Rome, awaiting execution for proclaiming the gospel in a city awash in decadence and blasphemy. He has definitely not spent his final years in the pursuit of youth or self-indulgence:

“For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Finally, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give to me on that Day, and not to me only but also to all who have loved His appearing.” (2 Timothy 4:6-8)

There’s a character in Hannah Hurnard’s allegory Hinds’ Feet on High Places, a tiny talking flower that appears for less than one page, who has remained in my memory for decades. Her name is Acceptance-with-Joy because she finds joy and contentment in her difficult circumstances (where she was “planted”) and because of that, she reflects beauty and peace. She is entirely without bitterness.

“Acceptance with joy” was a foreign concept to me until the moment I read that book. Paul didn’t use that exact phrase, but he practiced and taught that kind of acceptance, obedience, and contentment until the very end. As we number our days, our own acceptance with joy will ensure that we age with grace and gain a heart of wisdom—not bitterness—if we are given the gift of years.

Photo by Ethan Unzicker on Unsplash