I’m middle-aged. You have to listen to me.

March 30, 2008

I used to tell people (still do actually) that I so looked forward to turning 40. I felt that sort of officially marked “middle aged” and that event somehow signaled my arrival at “having lived.”

My philosophy was, “I am middle aged. I am no longer a kid. You can’t dismiss me. I have something to say. You have to listen to me.”



The older I get (closing in on 50) the more I learn that I have SO much more to learn. And what I have to say is, basically, live a better first half than I have.

Here is what I know:

I am the poor planner that Jesus had to bail out, break out His early miracle and make wine for.

I am Jonah, sulking under a tree.

I am the whore Hosea married and loved deeply.

I am John Mark, changing my mind in the middle of the journey, stuck up for by Barnabas.

I am Martha, trying to do it all, a little jealous of Mary.

I am Jesus’s mom, asking Him to drop what He’s doing to come here.

I am that guy beating his talking donkey to get it to do what the ass knew wasn’t so good for him.

I am middle aged, and you don’t have to listen to me, but if you want to know what NOT to do, give me call.


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