Birthdays
When you are a child and someone asks you how old you are, you don’t hesitate to add a half year, if appropriate. For example, you might reply that you are 7 1/2 years old. As a teenager, you tend to round up and, sometimes later, clarify. For example, you might say that you are almost 16 even if you are only 15 1/2.
That rounding up tends to stop after you hit 21, at least for me. For me, turning 21 just made some of my activities legal (they thought I was already over 21). Turning 22 wasn’t exciting because people still think of you as just turning legal to buy alcohol. I remember that when I turned 23, I felt that I escaped that just barely legal distinction and felt more comfortable in my new phase of life.
Turning 25, for me, was tough. I realized that I was halfway through my 20’s. On the other hand, turning 30 didn’t bother me probably because I had my loss of “20’s angst” at 25 years old.
I don’t recall much about turning 40. By that time, our son was a teenager, and I had just finished passing all my actuarial exams. My career as a fully credentialed actuary has just started. Turning 50 wouldn’t have impacted me much except my wife planned a great celebration. That kind of gathering cemented it into my memory. I think I’ll stop at 50…
But throughout my life, I’ve used the metaphor that having a birthday is better than the alternative. For example, you’ve heard people ask their friend how they felt about turning 40. The replying person says something like it was a tough birthday but it sure is better than the alternative.
I’ve reached that age milestone when turning 21 is much further away from my age than my eventual demise (again, I’m a math person who understands life year expectations). I was writing a social media post today and incorporated that age/alternative metaphor into my post. In reflection, I’ve decided to take that out of my verbal toolbox.
You see, I’ve reached the age, or maybe the stage of my faith walk, where the “alternative” doesn’t scare me and in fact I look forward to it in a lot of ways. I don’t want to die and leave my family mourning and leave my wife to figure out how to do the activities she learned to depend on me doing, but heading to heaven with Jesus sounds pretty great. That is the hope and joy that fills my heart.
“For none of us lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself. For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. For to this end Christ died and lived again, that he might be Lord both of the dead and of the living.” - Romans 14:7-9 ESV
“What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice. Yes, and I will rejoice, for I know that through your prayers and the help of the Spirit of Jesus Christ this will turn out for my deliverance, as it is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account.” - Philippians 1:18-24
It’s not easy for friends and family who are left when someone dies. That is because they experience the loss of your company and concern. But I’ve come to incorporate into my very being the “to live is Christ, and to die is gain”. What a more exciting, uplifting joyous attitude could I have?
