On Facebook, one of Helen’s
friends was giving her friends a questionnaire about their bucket list, or
something like that. One question was about zip lining.
Helen thought about it for
quite a while, ran through a mental list of all her coats, and concluded that
the answer was “Yes.” But she began to wonder. The other questions had to do
with piercings and tattoos and belly dancing. Oh, zip lining wasn’t about
whether she’d ever had a coat with a zip-out lining, after all.
Old people live in a
different world. It no longer exists. Nobody cares what we think or do. We are irrelevant,
and that’s okay.
A tottering old man in one
of my churches, I’ll call him Hank, then the age I am now, used to complain
bitterly, and divisively, about how the younger people in the church did not
respect him since they did not ask his advice. They did not disrespect him. They
just didn’t notice him. He was irrelevant. Unfortunately, Hank did not
understand that it was okay to be irrelevant.
There is a time to be
relevant and a time to be irrelevant. The surest way to be irrelevant tomorrow
is to be too relevant today. Hank thought relevance was his reason for
existence.
Relevance and irrelevance
are relative. Relevant or irrelevant, you are a child of God. Neither relevance
nor irrelevance separates us from the love of God.
Nobody cares about what I think
or do. I’m old. I’m irrelevant. That’s okay, because I’m a child of God.
How will people learn that it is okay to be irrelevant unless old people show them by living irrelevantly? Oh, I guess that makes us relevant, doesn't it?
How will people learn that it is okay to be irrelevant unless old people show them by living irrelevantly? Oh, I guess that makes us relevant, doesn't it?
JRMcF
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