You’ve probably already heard, but America is about to be largely populated by a bunch of old people. The baby boomer generation—our largest generation to date—is beginning to ride the geriatric curve, and it is raising a whole slew of questions: Will there be enough in Social Security for everyone to receive their benefits? What about medical care? How will this change the face of business and advertising? Will families begin to take in their elderly as opposed to sending them to retirement homes? Everything in our society will be affected from social services, to medicine, to marketing. How about the Church?
I recently went to a conference for pastors and counselors on the topic of loss. One of the break-out sessions discussed aging and to be honest, I went more out of responsibility, than out of interest. It ended up being one of the more compelling—and troubling—sessions I attended. In short, I left with a strong sense that the Church has missed a few things with respect to our elderly brothers and sisters, and that we have a big job ahead of us. Some of the issues pointed, rather disappointingly, to the fact that churches tend to surf the same cultural wave as popular culture, which is overwhelmingly youth-oriented. Think about our programs. Most churches have Sunday school programs for children, youth ministries from junior high through college, singles and young-married groups, and then… what? Usually nothing. This both reflects and creates a two-fold problem. First, we overlook the gifts and wisdom that the elderly have to offer us; and second, we allow the elderly among us to “coast” and take a break from ministering out of their giftedness. Nowhere in Scripture do we see allowance for this. Instead, we are told to “run the race with perseverance” all the way to the finish line.
So what are we to do? We might begin well by educating ourselves on three points:
How did we become this way as a culture?
What do we need to know about aging well?
How can we encourage bold faith as we age?
How did we become this way as a culture?
I once read a book entitled The Undertaking, by Thomas Lynch. Lynch is a published poet but also happens to be the undertaker in a small town in Michigan, a family business begun by his grandfather, later taken up by his father, then managed by himself. In this book of essays, Lynch examines, pokes, and prods all of our squeamishness about death. In one brilliant essay titled Johnny Crapper, he talks about the invention of the flush toilet by Johnny Crapper. With that invention, we brought the outhouse—which was unmentionable—indoors. At the very same time, we moved the “parlor” outside, which was usually the front room of a house where families would lay out their dead. In came the toilet, out went our dead to the professionalized funeral “parlor.” The former “parlor” in our homes became, interestingly, the “living room.” With that exchange, our culture shifted and we became uncomfortable with what had been, up to that point, a natural part of life. And, with this new uneasiness about dealing with death came a generalized uneasiness against aging as a whole.
Fast forward a couple of generations, and we are full-speed-ahead, rewarding cosmetic surgeons with some of the highest salaries in medicine, while geriatricians (doctors who care for the elderly) receive the lowest compensation. Our uneasiness with aging has birthed a new defiance of aging. With that defiance, important things have gotten overlooked and even lost. Take, for instance, our own knowledge of, and therefore compassion for, the aging process—not just on a physical level, but on a spiritual one, as well.
What do we need to know about aging well?
At the conference previously mentioned, the speaker (David Powlison) drew up a balance sheet summarizing both the gains and losses of aging. He noted that some of the gains of aging can be increased: life wisdom, diminished “youthful lusts” (the kind that get us into trouble), the shedding of the illusion of immortality, diminished pride (sometimes), and the opportunity to battle false things we’ve been living for. Therefore, the elderly often ponder what is truly meaningful. The losses are more obvious: loss of baseline health and physical abilities, sometimes a loss of mental capability, loss of friends, a loss of independence, and aloss of our sense of significance and purpose.
The scope of losses we face as we age should prompt us to preparation rather than denial. Instead, we often are spectators of the aging process in others just as we might slow down at the scene of a car accident— curious, but afraid of what we might see. And so we avoid, rather than engage. Furthermore, in Powlison’s words we have reduced the aging process to “medical moments,” rather than “meaning moments.” In other words, as a society we have delegated the aging process to health practitioners rather than enfolding our elderly into our communities in a way that engages their wisdom, gifts, and talents. It is no surprise that in the 18th and 19th centuries—a time period known for prudishness in all matters sexual—there was a healthy focus on how to age well and die well, preparing our souls for heaven. Now here we are in the 21st century, and we have no sexual shame, but we’re embarrassingly skittish and uneducated about aging and dying well.
How can we encourage bold faith as we age?
The answer to this question will come both from the elderly themselves and from the Church. A faith that is bold is a faith that doesn’t wait to be asked—whether it’s being asked to serve, to speak truth, to care for others or to mentor. A faith that is bold realizes that we don’t run a sprint in this life with Christ; we run a marathon, and we establish a rhythm of work and rest that allows us to keep serving Him until the end. We don’t stop at retirement age assuming that we’ve done our bit and now it’s our turn to rest and be served. A bold faith is inventive in looking for ways to encourage and build up the Body of Christ, at any age.
SBCC prayed for many years that God would give us more elderly people in our church. As a young church with mostly young people, we knew we needed elderly people, with their wisdom and experience, to join our ranks. God provided—both by aging us (!) and by bringing others with that maturity and life wisdom. With that answer to prayer comes not only the privilege and responsibility to creatively engage the gifts and wisdom of the elderly, but also to grow in compassionate care for those who are facing life’s most natural losses.
It has been said that this upcoming generation of elderly will be the loneliest generation of all. The reasons stem from increases in transience, divorce/singleness, childlessness, having more virtual friends and fewer real friends, longer lifespans and, notably, lack of meaningful community due in large part to an increase of those who have no connection to a local church.
We have a great opportunity to engage our elderly by nurturing and making room for the gifts and wisdom that might otherwise be overlooked. Hopefully, this will be a continuing conversation among us, so let’s be prayerful, and let’s keep talking!