Right down the long years I have held old people in profound and ever-growing reverence, and now that I myself am growing old, reverence has deepened into love. They have crossed the storm-swept sea of life, and, in doing so, have encountered rough winds and swelling tides; they have endured heavy trials and borne many sorrows. But when, in spite of these things, they retain childlike trust in God and continue wholeheartedly to believe that “all things work together for good to them that love [Him],” they become outstanding witnesses of the grace of their Lord.
The Grandeur
“The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness” (Prov. 16:3131The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness. (Proverbs 16:31)). When you come to think of it, the greatest things in the universe are old: old mountains, old rivers, old seas, old stars, and this is equally true in the realm of human life.
Since all knowledge, growth, development and character are cumulative, it follows inevitably that, when those who love the Saviour reach life’s eventide, they are:
“Rich in experience that angels might
covet;
Rich in a faith that has grown with
the years.”
They may not have accumulated much of this world’s gear; their names may never have appeared on the scrolls of earthly fame, but since their hearts possess the knowledge-transcending peace of God and heaven’s deep, abounding joy, they never miss those things which are so coveted by men of the world.
The Regrets
There are, however, numbers of our fellow-travelers who dwell but little on the aspect of old age which I have just emphasized. Because of shortcoming, failure and sin, they are obsessed with its regrets.
Indeed, it has been said that, just as anticipation is the gift of the young, so regret is often the possession of the old. Before we go further in our walk and talk, therefore, I desire that every one of us shall face the facts and get rid, once and for all, of the things that occasion misgiving and unrest. Again and again, people have said, “Oh, that I could have the past thirty, forty, fifty years over again. How differently I would live!” But are we quite sure about that? We have seen that the greatest university in life is the school of experience, but since, as Coleridge reminds us, experience is like the stern light of a ship at sea, which enlightens only the track that has been passed over, we could not, even with a fresh start, have the accumulated experience of those years whose failures we so deeply lament. However, there is another and a deeper sense in which we may make a fresh start, and here I come to the theme I most want to emphasize. May God anoint your eyes as you read, for He has a wonderful message to deliver to you.
The Joys
Let us turn to a happier phase of our theme. We have spoken of the regrets of old age; now let us think of its joys.
I begin by quoting the testimony of one who drank deeply of them and whose words have been a blessing to me. He says, “My mouth is full of laughter and my heart is full of joy.” I feel so sorry for folks who do not like to grow old, who are trying all the time to hide the fact that they are growing old, and who are ashamed to tell how old they are. I revel in my years; they enrich me. If God should say to me, “I will let you begin over again, and you may have your youth back once more,” I should say, “Oh, dear Lord, if Thou dost not mind, I prefer to go on growing old.”
I would not exchange the peace of mind, the abiding rest of soul, the measure of wisdom I have gained from the sweet, bitter and perplexing experiences of life, nor the confirmed faith I now have in the moral order of the universe and in the unfailing mercies and love of God for all the bright and uncertain hopes and tumultuous joys of youth. Indeed, I would not!
These are the best years of my life — the sweetest and the most free from anxious care. The way grows brighter; the birds sing sweeter; the winds blow softer; the sun shines more radiantly than ever before. I suppose “my outward man” is perishing, but “my inward man” is being joyously renewed day by day (2 Cor. 4:16).
The Limitations
Another thing about old age, of which we become increasingly conscious with the passing of the years, is its limitations.
You are no longer equal to the tasks which once you undertook with ease. The eye may be dim, the ear dull, the breath short, the heart faint, the hand unsteady, and the golden bowl of life almost broken. Because these things are in contrast with the long day of usefulness which you enjoyed, you are inclined to be despondent; you feel that you are a burden to others and that you are in their way. Dr. Robert Horton, who, in the zenith of his power, could hold the multitudes spellbound by the magic of his eloquence, suffered in his later years from this very feeling. Congregations did not want to hear him preach; publishers did not want his manuscripts; people did not ask for his counsel.
Yet if we accept our lot with a quiet patience and do not chafe against it, we may find that it is not without its compensations. Indeed, acceptance itself may bring peace. I was talking the other day with a friend about a man whose failing health had compelled him, with much reluctance, to resign an important charge. He began to mend from the day he made up his mind that he could go on no longer. The same holds good where no question of bodily health is involved.
There is another way many are distressed, and that is failure of memory. They frequently find it difficult, and sometimes impossible, to recall the sacred words which they love so well. Listen to some words of One who never forgets. Of the past He says, of His people, “I took them by the hand” (Heb. 8:99Not according to the covenant that I made with their fathers in the day when I took them by the hand to lead them out of the land of Egypt; because they continued not in my covenant, and I regarded them not, saith the Lord. (Hebrews 8:9)), of the present, “I the Lord ... will hold thine hand” (Isa. 42:66I the Lord have called thee in righteousness, and will hold thine hand, and will keep thee, and give thee for a covenant of the people, for a light of the Gentiles; (Isaiah 42:6)), and of the future, “I will never, never, let go your hand” (Heb. 13:55Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. (Hebrews 13:5) Weymouth).
The Loneliness
In your long experience of life, you will doubtless have observed that one of the most distressing things about old age is its loneliness.
We become increasingly conscious of this as the years speed over our heads, for, one by one, our loved ones pass from us, until, ultimately, we find ourselves alone. In the case of an ideally happy marriage, the loss of either partner can occasion great sorrow, for always, in the heart of the one who is left, there is the cry for “the touch of the vanished hand and the sound of the voice that is still.”
Our Father is not unmindful of our need of companionship during the days of our years upon the earth, and He has made gracious provision for it. When we examine that provision, we find that, whereas our human friendships are subject to the vicissitudes of time, the divine comradeship is independent of them — that while they may be shattered at any moment, this shall abide till traveling days are done.
Beloved children of God, let us ever remember, as friend after friend departs, that the God who has been there from the beginning is just the same today. He remains (Heb. 1:1111They shall perish; but thou remainest; and they all shall wax old as doth a garment; (Hebrews 1:11)), He abides, and “the wilderness and the solitary place” may even yet become the place of “joy and singing.”
The message which comes to us from this chapter of life is contained in Isaiah 46:44And even to your old age I am he; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you: I have made, and I will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you. (Isaiah 46:4): “Even to your old age I am He; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you: I have made, and I will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you.”
Selected from The Best
Is Yet to Be, G. Henderson