When I Was A Child

One of the beau­ties of aging is being able to look back and smile at your pre­sup­po­si­tions and the many “errors of your ways.” Some­times I think back to my early ser­mons, and I just shake my head. I can’t believe I said some of those things. Oh well, that was part of the jour­ney too. Your mis­take list is con­sid­er­ably longer than your suc­cess list — at least at first — which even­tu­ally makes your suc­cess list longer that your mis­take list.

The Apos­tle Paul con­sid­ered his early days as a reli­gious zealot as a sort of child­hood. Reli­gion that is on track even­tu­ally leads you to uncon­di­tional love. That was his point in I Corinthi­ans 13. All ele­ments of the ego even­tu­ally have to suc­cumb to the higher call­ings of the Spirit. Awards that reas­sured us of sig­nif­i­cance even­tu­ally make their way into a file, then even­tu­ally find their home in a land­fill some­where. Life is mea­sured by love. The rest is just paper.

Like many, I used to dream of fame and grand hero­ics. I wanted every­one to know my name. Now I only want God to know my name. I think he will remem­ber it if I share his char­ac­ter. If God is love, then maybe I bet­ter do the same. Given time, you dis­cover that love is your essence any­way. In ret­ro­spect, you begin to feel sorry for peo­ple still look­ing into the cam­eras for val­i­da­tion. It is exces­sively child­ish to be nar­cis­sis­tic after forty.

The soul rel­ishes anonymity and obscu­rity. It digs deeply into the sand. It knows we are from the dust and to the dust we return, but that is exactly what sets it free. I wanted to be famous, but I have learned to be trust­ing. I wanted to be rich, but instead I have dis­cov­ered how to be appreciative.

I do not den­i­grate child­hood. There are many things about it that I miss. Maybe all of life on earth is a sort of child­hood. We don’t finally grow up until this life is over. I can live with that. Bet­ter yet, I can look for­ward to it.