On Being an Old Man

Tomorrow, I'll be 20 years old. (And by tomorrow, I mean Sunday.) It's surreal. Now, of course I won't be reaching any pivotal age as ascribed to me by Western culture. I've passed eighteen (and haven't even purchased cigarettes,) and 21 just isn't here yet. 

All of the things that we talk up about getting older, they just don't hold up for me when I actually get there. And to be honest, I'm okay without. I don't really have any desire to smoke, play the lottery, or drink. Not that any of those things are inherently wrong (unless of course you value the normal functions of your body/mind and/or just don't know when to quit) they just hold no charm for me. Of course I have my vices, ugly lust and stupid self obsessed tendencies only scratching the surface of my worst features, but what society values as important just doesn't work. Not for me, anyway. What's the big deal? It's only another year older. 

As I approach my exodus from teenage life, I look in the mirror and see the same thing I saw yesterday (or, for that matter, two years ago.) Sure, I've grown up since hitting college. I've learned a whole mess of things about God, myself, and the people that inhabit this spinning blue sphere with me. I've made new friends, I've set out to be a better person. But the fears, the anxiety, the fixation on things I should be fixated on...those things are still the same as they were two years ago. All driven by the singular drive within me to always be right. Hubris. Pride. I am driven by me. And that's a huge problem.

Here lately, the desires God has for me have met in a complete collision with the desires that I have for me. Youth Ministry, in particular. I felt so sure of myself. With my humor, passion for kids, and desire for others to know the gospel, I could certainly be a great youth pastor.

That's where the problem started. Do I still believe God wants me in Youth Ministry? Absolutely. More than ever, actually. But in those ideals of what I could be, I left out the most important factor in the equation. God. What are his desires for how I enact his plan? Should I be the one enacting it? How does letting him live and breathe through my story actually shell out in a world that is so driven by self, by a person that is so driven by self? 

My intentions were pretty much pure. I wanted to show the kids I'm currently working with a genuine way to view God, to experience and to love God wholly, for all that he is. I want to help them through their life situations, show them that there is hope in the confusing spiral of emotions that middle school and high school catapult you through. That despite the dysfunctions that their families, that all our families, go through, we are kept secure in God's love, and nothing can change that.

But I'm not 100% sure that my motives actually lined up with the guidance I could give them. I am to be a mentor, a brother...but maybe I haven't learned all I need to learn when it comes to ministry to really enact the desires God has given me in a youth group setting...not yet. And maybe I should dedicate more time praying for each of them and meditating on God's word than on jumping in over my head. Being 20 years old, I can't assume that I know it all. Not yet. Not ever.

My Sin.

Another topic that is so painful for me to write about. I am the worst of sinners. My pride runs deep and, as a result, my hypocrisy runs deeper. The last thing I ever want to be is a failure. I want to (and so often do) put on a happy face and leave my ruthlessness covered in the dust of years of pretending. I pretend I have it together. But one thing I've still not been able to effectively put into practice is surrendering. I don't know how to surrender my everything, including sins, to God. Or maybe I know, but am scared to do. I'll verbally affirm that surrender is necessary, I'll even agree that its something good for me to do. But I'm much more content to read a rousing book on spirituality or listen to an uplifting sermon than try to actually live what I read or hear. This presents a problem. 

In the first chapter of James, he says "Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But whoever looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues in it—not forgetting what they have heard, but doing it—they will be blessed in what they do." 

But I'm learning. I am learning what surrender looks like, albeit slowly. Surrender looks like putting aside shame and believing God when he tells me I'm forgiven. If I effectively do that, and his forgiveness actually means something in my life, then I'm much less likely to return to my sins and continue in cycles what I know is so disgusting. 

As much as I say that, I'll have setbacks. I'll get angry with someone time and time again. I'll look at things I'm not supposed to and act on shallow feelings that I'm well aware are not up to God's standards. But there is mercy. There is life. And I am slowly but surely becoming the man of God that I know I need to be because of that. I am thrilled that God is merciful. And maybe when I reach 21, I will be able to put my fears and anxieties behind me.

But I rejoice in the knowledge that I am a Child of God. And my prayer for my 20th year of life on this blue, spinning orb, is that next year, when I look in the mirror, I remember what I look like. And I hope that looks more like Jesus. 

With grace like fire,

And my life like a tall tree,

Consume me, my maker, 

Consume me and set me free. 

My mind drifts like the tides,

Like foam out on the beach.

My heart floats away untethered,

But never beyond your mercy's reach. 

You are God,

You are God,

and I am not whole yet.