Don’t Die Before You Die – Live While You Live

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the way people age, because, well, I’m aging. Just so you know, when you’re young you feel like old age is forever away. It’s not. Then when you realize you are “old” it’s honestly a shock. If I get asked if I qualify for the seniors discount at a store… I rethink my life choices, and start pricing high quality anti-aging cream which I’m clearly not using to those who ask that question. My husband on the other hand is boldly proclaiming his age because, “I can now get the discount.”

I’ve said for many years that it seems that people either become cute and cuddly, or crusty and crabby. Can we agree, for our family, friends and the generations that follow us we need to choose the former?

Over the years I’ve met many older Christians whose faith seems as fresh and vibrant as ever. They are the kind of people you enjoy being around. They are kind, interested in others, quick to encourage, and full of hope. They are inspirational. They haven’t lost their convictions, but they have gained wisdom. They still laugh. They still dream. They still believe God is at work. Their presence is life-giving.

I’ve also met others who seem to have gone in a different direction. Somewhere along the way they became critical, negative, suspicious, and difficult to please. They complain more than they encourage. They are quick to point out what is wrong and slow to celebrate what is good. They have stopped expecting God to do new things. Their world has become smaller and their faith less joyful. I understand there are factors that lead to this. Health problems, chronic pain, relationship breakdowns, lack of purpose and loneliness impact this, but how we respond is still our choice. I honestly think as you age you have to decide to fight to be positive.

Not too long ago, I visited a retirement home. I asked the director if the residents were kind and easy to work with. “Oh yes,” she replied, “they are ALL lovely.”

At that moment, I remember thinking, someone’s pants are on fire. As if on cue, an elderly gentleman shuffled past, glared at me, and growled, “Get out of my way.”

I looked back at the director and said, “I guess not ALL of them.”

The difference isn’t simply personality. Nor is it age. Age by itself doesn’t make us bitter or sweet. It simply reveals what has been forming in us for years. It can also be a lack of awareness about how we respond to life and to the people in our lives.

Keeping Our Hearts Soft

One of the great challenges of growing older is learning how to keep our hearts soft. Life has a way of testing us. We experience disappointments. We lose people we love. Our bodies change Our face changes. Our influence changes. Our health changes. Sometimes the world around us changes so quickly that we hardly recognize it. Every one of those experiences can either deepen our trust in God or make us retreat into resentment.

The writer of Proverbs tells us, “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it” (Proverbs 4:23). As we age, that becomes even more important. A guarded heart isn’t a closed heart. It’s a heart that remains tender toward God and toward people. It’s a heart that refuses to let disappointment turn into cynicism.

Jesus speaks of those who believe in Him as people from whom “rivers of living water” would flow (John 7:38). I love that picture. A river is always moving, it’s fresh. It gives life wherever it goes. As we age, we have to fight to keep that a priority in our lives. We need to ask often, ‘is God’s life still flowing through me? Am I becoming more generous, more patient, more loving? Or am I becoming rigid, defensive, and stuck?’

Looking Forward, Not Just Back

One thing I’ve noticed is that younger people naturally look forward while older people are often tempted to look back. That’s understandable. When you’re twenty, most of life lies ahead of you. When you’re seventy, there are more memories behind you than possibilities in front of you, or so it seems.

There is nothing wrong with remembering the past. In fact, Scripture often calls us to remember God’s faithfulness. But there is a difference between remembering the past and living in it.

Nostalgia can become a trap. We begin talking about how things used to be. We compare everything to another era. We can harken back to the “good old days”. We measure the present against an idealized version of the past. Before long, we stop seeing what God is doing right now. He is still moving, still saving, still changing people but when you are stuck in the past you can actually become blind to it.

I remember a season in our thirties when we were pastoring an amazing church and experiencing a remarkable move of God. Every Sunday, somewhere between five and fifteen people would surrender their lives to Jesus. The altars were full. New families were arriving. Lives were being transformed. There was a tangible sense of God’s presence in the services. Looking back, I often think it felt like living in a little piece of heaven.

Yet, behind the scenes, not everyone was celebrating.

To be clear, it was only a small number of people, but their voices often seemed louder than the many who were rejoicing in what God was doing. Some struggled because their usual seat was no longer available. Others found it difficult to adjust to a more contemporary style of worship. Some were uncomfortable with the expressive responses that were taking place during worship or with the physical manifestations that accompanied some people’s encounters with the Holy Spirit. Even preaching and teaching about the Holy Spirit created tension for a few people, which was somewhat ironic given that we were a Pentecostal church.

As a young pastoral couple, we found it difficult to understand. How could anyone focus on what they disliked when so many people were finding Christ, being restored, and encountering God? We saw spiritual vitality everywhere and couldn’t understand why some seemed unable to celebrate it.

With the benefit of hindsight, I think I understand better now.

Most of these people were not bad people. In fact, many were sincere believers who genuinely loved God and loved the church. The challenge was that, while they wanted the church to grow, they hoped growth would somehow feel familiar. They wanted change, but they wanted it to look and sound like what they had always known. The difficulty, of course, is that real change never works that way.

For some, there was a genuine sense of loss. The songs that had shaped their faith were sung less often. The atmosphere that felt comfortable and familiar was changing. The church they loved no longer felt exactly the same. Beneath some of the complaints was fear, the fear that something precious from the past was disappearing.

We all cherish memories of seasons when God met us powerfully. The danger comes when we begin to value our memories of what God did more than our openness to what God is doing. It didn’t seem to matter that many people were being saved, transformed, that the church was growing and that younger people were using their gifts for the glory of God. That’s a tragedy.

It takes a soft heart to embrace hundreds of new people, new expressions, and new ways of reaching a generation that thinks differently than we do. It requires us to keep the mission ahead of our preferences. It calls us to celebrate changed lives even when the changes around us make us uncomfortable.

Perhaps that’s one of the great tests of spiritual maturity: Can we rejoice in what God is doing, even when it doesn’t look exactly like what He did before?

The Apostle Paul wrote, “Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal…” (Philippians 3:13-14). Paul wasn’t dismissing the past. He was refusing to be trapped by it. Even late in life he was still pursuing all that God had for him.

The Gift We Leave the Next Generation

I’ve seen families deeply affected by the way people age.

Some grandparents become magnets. Their children and grandchildren love spending time with them because they are full of grace and interest. They ask questions. They listen. They bless. They don’t have to agree with every trend or every decision, but they remain approachable and loving.

Others unintentionally push people away. Every conversation becomes a complaint. Every change is criticized. Every new idea is viewed with suspicion. Eventually family members stop sharing their hearts because they don’t feel heard. What a tragedy when the very people who should be spiritual anchors instead become sources of discouragement.

I remember a visit we made in our twenties to a seniors’ home. We were young and trying to bring a little encouragement to those we met. One lady we spoke with has forever stayed in my memory. She complained about everything. Even when Peter asked if he could read a Scripture to her she agreed, but when he suggested one passage she replied, “No, not that one, I already know that one.” So he chose another.

As we were leaving, he said kindly, “Take care of yourself.” She responded, “Why would I do that? I pay these people to do that.”

In the short time we were with her, she also told us that her family never comes to see her.

We walked away quietly that day, carrying a sadness. Somewhere along the way, life had become small and relationships had grown distant.

It raises a sobering question: how do we live in such a way that people are drawn toward us, not pushed away from us? How do we remain the kind of people whose presence feels like welcome, not withdrawal?

What a tragedy when connection is lost in the very places where it should be deepest.

Young people need older believers who believe in them. They need mentors more than critics. They need examples of faith that are deep, authentic, and full of grace. They need to see that following Jesus for fifty years doesn’t make a person harder; it makes them kinder.

When we stay open-hearted, curious, and engaged, we build bridges to the next generation. When we become bitter and closed off, those bridges begin to crumble.

Retirement Is Not Retirement from Purpose

I think one of the secrets to aging well is remaining teachable. The moment we think we have nothing left to learn, we begin to die a little on the inside. God never intended us to stop growing. There is always another book to read, another skill to learn, another person to understand, another way to serve.

This becomes especially important in retirement. Retirement isn’t a biblical word. Rest is. Sabbath is. But nowhere does Scripture suggest that we retire from purpose.

When our careers end, a new season begins. Suddenly we have choices about how we will spend our days. Some people gradually withdraw from life. Their world becomes smaller and smaller. Others discover new opportunities. They volunteer. They mentor younger people. They travel. They study. They become involved in causes that matter. They continue investing in the kingdom of God.

What we do with our time is largely up to us. We can spend our days watching life happen, or we can remain engaged with the people and opportunities God places before us. We can continue learning, serving, and growing. We can continue making a difference.

Psalm 92 gives us a beautiful picture of God’s intention for our later years: “They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green” (Psalm 92:14). What a promise. God never intended us merely to survive our later years. He intends us to bear fruit in them.

Story of Faith That Stayed Alive

One of the most influential people in my life was Pastor Jim MacKnight, who served on staff with us in his late sixties. He was, in many ways, the greatest man of God I have personally known.

He walked with us through a significant season of spiritual renewal, and we remain deeply grateful that God placed him in our lives during that time. His presence brought stability, wisdom, and a quiet strength that steadied us more than we probably realized at the time.

He was an encourager in the truest sense of the word. He prayed faithfully, spoke life generously, and carried a genuine love for people. I honestly don’t know that he personally preferred our music style or all of the changes that were happening around him. But I never once heard him complain.

He worshipped. Consistently. Wholeheartedly. Without drawing attention to himself.

There was a depth to his faith and a gentleness to his spirit that made him a joy to be around. When decisions were difficult, he didn’t add pressure, he brought peace. When leadership felt heavy, he brought clarity rather than confusion.

Looking back, I can see how much he shaped me simply by the way he lived. He made me want to know Jesus more deeply. And perhaps even more than that, he made me want to become a person who would still be soft, strong, and full of grace in my later years.

If I could describe it simply, he made growing older in faith look beautiful.

Still Bearing Fruit

Whenever I meet older believers who are still vibrant in spirit, I notice certain qualities. They are grateful. They are humble. They are curious. They are still in the word. They remain engaged with people of different ages. Most importantly, they continue pursuing God. They haven’t allowed yesterday’s experiences with God to replace today’s relationship with Him.

Fresh faith requires fresh encounters with God. We cannot live forever on old testimonies, old victories, and old revelations. Every season requires new grace. Every day requires fresh bread. Every generation needs to hear God’s voice again.

The prophet Isaiah wrote, “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength” (Isaiah 40:31). Notice that renewal is not a one-time event. It is ongoing. God continually renews those who keep looking to Him.

As long as we are drawing from the Source, the water keeps flowing.

Don’t Die Before You Die

I don’t want to be someone who dies before I die.

There’s a poem written by Dylan Thomas that resonates with me.

“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

His words remind me to keep living, keep believing, keep pursuing God until my last breath. I don’t want to spend my final years complaining about the world, resisting every change, and reliving old stories while missing what God is doing today. I want to stay alive in spirit. I want my heart to remain soft. I want younger people to feel encouraged when they’re around me, not judged. I want my faith to become deeper, kinder, and more life-giving with every passing year.

None of us can stop the aging process. Grey hair, sagging skin and for women, chin hairs are a given.

The years will come whether we welcome them or not. But we can decide what kind of people those years will shape us into.

May we be people from whom rivers of living water continue to flow. May we stay fresh and green. May we keep learning, serving, loving, and believing. May we remain open to what God is doing in every season of life. And may those who come behind us inherit not just our memories, but our faith.

Don’t die before you die.

Live while you live.