72 when the news isn’t good

Good Lord willing, in three days, I’ll turn 72.

Over the last year, I’ve thought about 72 quite a bit.

On August 31,1992, my mother died courtesy of one the cruelest things on earth— cancer. She was 72.

I always wondered if I would make it to 72.

In June of 1972, I turned 19.

I had just finished my freshman year at Greensboro College.

It is unbelievable to me how quickly the last 53 years have passed.

Time is not on my side.

Truthfully, I don’t think time has ever been on my side.

I often reflect about how badly I have managed my time on earth. I could have been better at so many things.

I could have been more thoughtful, patient, kindhearted, and friendly.

I could have read more books, been more attentive to the needs of those around me, less judgmental, and less whiny.

Yet, I am thankful that I might just make it to 72.

This verse of the day showed up recently in my daily early morning quiet time. It’s from Psalm 121 verses 7-8: “The Lord will keep you from all harm— he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.”

When the news isn’t good, how in the world can a person of faith or a person who struggles with their faith believe those words?

With the bombing of Iran, the word “obliterated” was used to describe the destruction at the country’s nuclear facilities.

Obliterated applies to human beings too.

A neighbor for the second time is battling cancer. Her most recent post indicated that the cancer is obliterating her body.

Nothing that the oncologists have tried is slowing down or killing the cancer. Too bad we don’t have a 30,000 pound bomb that we can drop on her cancer.

And despite this discouraging report, our neighbor wrote, “I’m not losing hope.”

How in the world does she hang on to hope when her body has been betrayed by the words in the Psalms?

Clearly, her body hasn’t been kept from harm, and in her going and coming she must feel like she hasn’t been watched over.

On the afternoon of Sunday, June 22, I was running some errands. I was listening to a rebroadcast of a live concert from Mountain Stage.

A Kentucky duo named The Local Honeys was performing. One of The Local Honeys, Montana Hobbs, introduced a song that she had written about her grandfather.

Back stories fascinate me, and this one didn’t disappoint.

Her grandfather came from a large family. Unfortunately, his parents died early. This meant the children were shipped off to relatives to be raised.

In those challenging circumstances, Miss Hobbs’ grandfather ran off twice. Eventually, he joined the Navy and became a pilot during World War II. Somehow, her grandfather survived his plane being shot down and crashing in the Pacific.

With time, the roots of this family and their stories came together. When Miss Hobbs had the opportunity to visit her grandfather, if she asked him how he was doing, his standard reply was “better than I deserve.”

That reply from Miss Hobbs’ grandfather punched hard at my old soul.

At this point, my life has been “better than I deserve.”

And yet, I will complain until the day I die when a verse from the Bible, promises to protect, but from my downcast perspective the words fail.

In the May 23 edition of the news magazine The Week, I read an obituary about Joseph Nye. Dr. Nye was a political scientist who had a distinguished career in academia and politics.

The Washington Post reported that the future Dr. Nye grew up on a farm. He attended Princeton University. It was at Princeton that “he briefly considered studying for the ministry—until he read the Bible all the way through.”

I wonder what in the Bible changed Nye’s mind about pursuing the ministry? Was it a day when the news wasn’t good, and he knew that the hopeful words of scripture had let another person down?

If I make it to Friday, I will be thankful.

And on Friday, when I compare my life to the lives of others who are struggling to hang on, I’ll think about the words from Montana Hobbs’ grandfather “better than I deserve,” and with respect to the doubt of Thomas, I too will not lose hope.

Author’s note: I wrote this piece as a devotional for a staff meeting at our church on June 24. It was not my intention to draw attention to my birthday. The purpose is simply to remind you, me, we, us how fragile and unpredictable life can be. Love you all, Bill