Apparently, ’57 was a good year for Elvis, Chevy’s, and my parents.
I know, I know, you can hardly believe it by looking at me, but I’m turning the ripe old age of 60 on March 13th. It’s a little surreal. I don’t feel that old. I don’t look . . . okay . . . maybe I do look that old. Whatever.
I remember (thankfully, since they say memory is the first thing to go) turning thirty. It was just 10,950 days ago. I was depressed. My 20s were over. Middle age was mocking me to my face, or so I thought. But I pulled out of my misery when it hit me, “At least I ain’t sixty!”
What do I tell myself now?
Sixty is sexy? (Nope.)
Sixty is the new fifty? (Not even close. I did fifty, and it was much better.)
For me, there’s no getting around it; sixty is scary.
Let me explain.
I come from a long line of Bubna men who died in their 60s.
My grandfather, my dad, and one of his two brothers (my uncle), all went to be with Jesus long before they hit 70.
So, you’re thinking, “Ahhh, he’s afraid to die.”
No. That’s not it at all. I openly faced the reality of my mortality over five years ago when I had cancer.
Death isn’t the problem. I’m not worried about dying. All men die.
But I am afraid. I worry that I won’t accomplish the things I still desire to do before I go.
I’m concerned I won’t leave a meaningful legacy.
Frankly, I’m just not done yet.
Yeah, I know, I need to trust in the Sovereignty of God (please don’t go all spiritual on me, I’m trying to have a pity party here).
Yes, I know, just live “one day at a time” (wow, that’s original).
But what if my last “one day” is today?
What if I don’t get that novel done? (It’s on my bucket list.)
What if I don’t get to see at least one of my grandkids give me a great-grandchild?
What if I don’t get to experience one more great movement of God in my lifetime?
Pause. A moment of personal reflection is happening . . .
Maybe there’s something that matters more?
What if I just stop worrying about all the “what ifs?” and decide to measure my life, however long or short it is, by one thing: did I love God and others with all my heart?
You see, young, old, or somewhere in between, what always matters most is not what we accomplished in our days, but whether or not we loved.
With a radical love.
A relentless love.
A revolutionary love.
A profound, uncompromising, and deep-seated love for God and His most-prized creation—you!
It seems appropriate to quote one of the Apostle Paul’s more famous passages here.
“If I had such faith that I could move mountains, but didn’t love others, I would be nothing. If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it; but if I didn’t love others, I would have gained nothing.” I Cor. 13: 2-3
Bubna Paraphrase Edition: Without love, nothing else matters. Absolutely nothing.
So, with whatever time I have left, I will view each day as a gift and do my best to love as I am loved.
Pity party over.
Wonder how I’m going to feel about turning seventy—just 520 weeks from now?
I’ll be fine.
Especially if I invest the next decade loving God and others even better.
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