The Old Man I Want To Be

One generation shall commend your works to another, and shall declare your mighty acts.  -Psalm 145:4

“Damn weather’s going to kill us all!”  

I’m guessing the old crank was just trying to find a way to connect with the young lady behind the counter, but as these words filled my ear lobes I couldn’t help but envision what 15 minutes on a porch with this old chap would entail. 

I imagine it’d be filled with a few shots at either Obama or those stubborn republicans, or maybe a steady dose of vitriol aimed at both.  He’d continue to complain about the weather.  He’d tell me about the good ol’ days and we’d both dream of being able to buy 15 cent cheeseburgers or a tank of gas without sacrificing our children’s college fund.  He’d curse the sky and damn the heat into the fiery abyss and we’d bond on our common lot of futility in a fallen world.  Then I’d wallow off his porch, stoop into my humble car, and drive off in sorrow lamenting everything. 

I don’t want to be that guy.

Not that he doesn’t have a partial truth cornered.  He does.  I’m sure that 15 cent cheeseburgers are better than the $1.00 mystery meat we call McDonalds.  It is hot.  There is an element of futility and brokenness to our world.  He’s right, things aren’t as they ought to be. 

But he’s not totally right.  All of life isn’t lived in a valley. 

“Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised, and his greatness is unsearchable”.  I want to spend 15 minutes (or much longer) on a porch with the guy that says that. 

Partially because he’s the same guy that at one point said, “darkness is my only companion”.  I want to learn how he stares reality in the face, nods his head in agreement with the old moaner, and then opens his lip and infuses every one of those complaints with abounding grace.  This guy gets the whole story.  He goes through the valley but knows that isn’t the whole story. 

The old grumbler only gets the Fall right.  But he has no room for the gospel.  No room for declaring the excellencies of Christ or to commend the works of the Lord to another generation.  I don’t want to be that old man. 

I want to be the old man that can say at one point “darkness is my only companion” but out of the same overflowing heart also say, “Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised, and his greatness is unsearchable”. 

When I find myself in the position of an old man sitting on a porch with an opportunity to declare wonder I don’t want to botch it and say “damn weather’s gonna kill us all”.  I want be able to say “my goodness it’s hot”, and then tell the next generation about a time when I was 30 and it was really hot and we were in the middle of a drought and we gathered at the church for our usual Sunday morning service.  Then I’ll tell how we started the service by praying for rain only to be interrupted by a thundercloud and a downpour of rain.  And I’ll share how I closed off my sermon a little early and we all without provocation gathered around the window and listened to the Lord preach a sermon on His provision in the form of rain on a parched land.

Yeah.  I want to be that old man.  But I know today that I won’t be that old man unless I have my eyes open in my thirties.  If I’m a curmudgeon now my face is sure to grow into one of those perpetual frowns by the time I’m 70.  I’d rather spend my days meditating on “glorious splendor of the Lord’s majesty” and “on His wondrous works”, then when I’m 70 I’ll have plenty to rejoice in with those young whippersnappers. 

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Note: Because that old guy in the photo looks a decent amount like one of my grandfather’s I hold out hope that I can sport such an amazing toothless grin when I’m his age.