When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have him around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years. –Mark Twain
I turned fifty-four years old last week. When my father was fifty-four years old, I was his three-year-old youngest son. He had thirteen other children. My mother was forty-five years old at that time. I don’t recall how old I was (but certainly under eight years) when I put any thought to my parent’s age, but I do recall that I considered them “old” at that time. Fifty-four seems pretty young to me now. Funny how time and life circumstances change our outlook on things.
I was not a particularly bright young man. Nevertheless, as a teenager I recall often having people tell me how “mature” I was. Many assumed it was because I had older, wiser parents and many older siblings from which to draw insight. They may have been correct about that. I came to know the Lord as a teenager, and I believe that played a role in how I viewed life. By my mid-teens I had put behind me many of the activities that mark immature adolescence (underage drinking, drug use, etc.). However, as I said before, I was not particularly bright. I needed guidance, maybe more than most teens my age. I had many questions swimming around in my head, dealing with my faith primarily, but also with day to day concepts. Like all teenage boys, I also swam in a sea of hormones. My parents were wonderful, caring, and loving, but they were not overly preoccupied with keeping an eye on me, or with sharing with me the kind of wisdom I needed at that time. Provided that type of freedom at that tender of an age, many bad choices can be made, and I made my fair share of bad ones. Yet by God’s grace none of those choices were life-changing. I dated some girls I should not have dated. I did not concentrate on school like I should have. I wasted quite a bit of time trying to become the next Jimmy Connors or Babe Ruth, both of whom represented sports I loved but had no business thinking I possessed the skills by which to make a living.
I share all this not to castigate myself. I was, by and large, a pretty good young man. I went off to college and applied myself to my studies. I stayed out of trouble (at least in ways that people would know about) and, again by God’s grace, spent my time with other young believers through Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship. I never harmed anyone, treated women respectfully, worked hard and paid my own way through school, and courted my future wife. But here’s the rub; as I look back on that time I realize that in so many ways I still was not thinking in a mature manner much of the time. There was so much to learn and I always needed, and still do, a good mentor, friend, and confidant. I’ve always needed that.
This makes sense, of course. Even the Teacher of Ecclesiastes knew this when he said: Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Pity indeed. I honestly do not know where I would be today if it had not been for an older brother, then two high school friends, then a couple older college students, then a local pastor, then a wife, and since then multiple genuine friends to help guide my path. All of these are, surely, gifts from God. They have all helped me keep my foot from slipping and kept me from “the miry pit” as the psalmist might say.
We need godly friends. All of us. Not so bright people like me and really smart people like many of you (I leave it to you to decide which category in which to place yourself). Friends/mentors/disciplers like this generally must be sought out the older we get. A gracious God put them in my path when I was young — he seems to expect me to do the footwork now. Do that footwork friends, and while you are at it, be that person for your children if you have them or for someone else younger and less mature than you if you do not. Do so, and you will be doubly blessed.
When I was one-and-twenty, I heard a wise man say: “Give crowns and pounds and guineas, but not your heart away. Give pearls away and rubies, but keep your fancy free,” but I was one-and-twenty, no use to talk to me. When I was one-and-twenty I heard him say again: “the heart out of the bosom was never given in vain; tis paid with sighs a plenty and sold for endless rue,” now I am two-and-twenty, and Oh ‘tis true, ‘tis true! - A.E. Housman
Grace and peace,
Pastor Jym