Hensley: Trying to get over a bad case of the birthday blues

“What a drag it is getting old.” --- The Rolling Stones, “Mother’s Little Helper”

As Mick and Keith testified in the catchy little song mentioned above, “Things are different today.”

In the first place, I’m working through the impact of my latest birthday to end in a zero, assessing my own meaning and mortality and coming to the sober realization that I definitely now have more years in the rear-view mirror of life than I have before me.

Beyond that, this business I’m once again part of is different. That’s hardly a secret, and it’s no mystery that greater change is in its immediate future, which will probably determine if it has a distant future.

Equally important, society is different. In some ways that is a good thing. In others, particularly regarding the rise of criticism as both the nation’s leading participatory and spectator sport, not so much. The world seems a less friendly place, civility is on life-support, and, as a result, empathy and sympathy are suddenly on the endangered species list.

All of which has me pondering what my remaining years might have in store. Part of my morning routine includes reading pastor Rick Warren’s “Daily Hope” devotional. It was just more than 10 years ago I was reading his series entitled “Decade of Destiny” and how to successfully navigate the upcoming years. It was good stuff, brimming with faith, hope and the importance of a robust prayer life.

Funny thing, though, this life we lead. I had no idea then the dawning of 2010 would usher in the most professionally jarring decade of my life.

I have never had so many career doors close in such a short span of time. Those things I thought would be career and life highlights, unfortunately, turned out to be anything but. Decade of destiny? I’m not so sure. Truth be told, I couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Of course, here comes 2020 and the year of “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Who knew then that the ebb and flow of life would lead right back to the door of the daily newspaper and the chance to do one thing I enjoy immensely: write?

Maybe a lot of that disappointing stuff starts when you turn 50. More likely, though, is it happens to a lot more people a lot sooner. I’m aware of that. I hear heartbreak and distress from people almost every day in my “other” capacity as a pastor. It seems that for every peak there is a corresponding valley, and I was probably fortunate to spend much of those first 50 years enjoying the high points.

Then again, perhaps it was a decade of destiny. Ironically, it was 10 years ago en route to a high point that I began to answer my call to ministry. My son (then 13) and I were hiking 13,161-foot Wheeler Peak outside of Taos, New Mexico, when he began suffering altitude sickness around 11,000 feet. We were literally in the middle of nowhere and at least a good six miles from the trailhead and civilization.

In that crisis, though, I felt a presence and a sense of peace that we would be OK, even if I had to “fireman carry” Hayden back every step of the way. Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. He recovered as we descended, although it was the rest of the day (and an order of fried ice cream) before he was back to his old self.

Thinking back, I recovered as well. One of the reasons we’d taken the trip, besides the importance of sharing quality father-son time in the great outdoors, was my feeling that the wilderness would be the perfect backdrop for exploring my call. It was, but it didn’t arrive in a burning bush. There was no epiphany, no theophany, just that sense of peace.

So, while the past 10 years have indeed been bumpy, my twists and turns are no different and no worse than those of so many others. In fact, they have probably been more helpful and instructive than I have yet to realize.

It was nine years ago that I got my first part-time church job. A year or so later, I began serving my first church. It started as an interim, part-time appointment. I don’t think there is a lower rung on the ministry ladder. It required a 40-minute drive one way. In the three plus years I made that drive, I don’t think attendance ever exceeded 35.

But the congregation at Petersburg UMC was just what this rookie pastor needed. The people were incredible. They gave me so much grace, and they were so welcoming. I didn’t know it, but they were preparing me for whatever was next. As my preaching mentor reminded me, “Small churches are filled with loving people who know its their job to get their pastor ready to move on.”

Eventually, that day came, and for the past four years, I’ve served the same kind of grace-filled, supportive people at Forrest Heights UMC in Lubbock. I’m no longer a rookie, but they still put up with a lot from a second-career guy who often relies on sports illustrations to help bring relevancy to the Good News on Sunday mornings.

The plan was to have this bit of personal reflection, flavored with a bit of melancholia, already written. After all, I’ve known this birthday was coming. For some reason, motivation gave way to procrastination. That in turn led to dwelling on what might have beens, which is always an unfulfilling undertaking.

Clarity came, though, when a friend asked if I thought I’d ever be a minister. Uh, no. In fact, I’ve still got a long way to go. But there is no doubt I have a lot to be thankful for, especially these days. Make no mistake, I’m grateful for a loving family, numerous loyal friends, sound health, meaningful employment and other blessings too numerous to mention here.

I don’t know what the future holds, but as I remind my congregation (and readers), I know who holds the future. That is God who works all things for good and whose timing is always perfect.

That should always be enough – even during a birthday celebration.

Doug Hensley is associate regional editor and director of commentary for the Avalanche-Journal.