On being old and poor in spirit

 Our church is doing a sermon series on the Beatitudes. Several Sunday ago, the sermon on the first Beatitude impacted me. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3). The preacher, a university religion professor, described the person who is poor in spirit as a humble person, often desperate, who recognizes her need, who knows she is absolutely dependent on God to help her. It’s a person who understands his own smallness as compared to God’s grandeur. I think of people in situations of poverty and homelessness, of refugees and victims of war. I also think of persons suffering depression or mental illness. Maybe at times we all go through experiences that make us poor in spirit.

But it was after the sermon, in our time of silence and open worship, that the impact came home. My friend Jo stood and talked about those of us who are growing older as frequently being poor in spirit, especially as we deal with the fear of loosing competency. This fear is based on one of the realities of the aging process, and the fact that it may be normal doesn’t make it easier for the person experiencing it.

A friend who has been a successful life-long pastor recently shared that preaching and teaching are getting difficult and are now something he doesn’t enjoy so much. It takes much longer to prepare a message and he is now unsure of himself in his delivery. Another friend who was for years the superintendent of his denomination talked about how scattered, forgetful, and unorganized he now feels. Getting stuff done is a challenge he doesn’t feel up to anymore. In both cases, facing the loss of professional (and personal) competency has been hard.

During one period in my life, I worked as faculty secretary in a large seminary. Assigned to four professors, I prepared syllabi, obtained copyright permissions, typed letters, prepared visual aids, ran errands, helped students with their dissertations, and wrote the school newsletter, all at the same time I was beginning my own doctoral degree program. I feel exhausted just remembering, but at the time I thrived. I discovered I was good at multitasking and at getting things done efficiently. I excelled at time management, and managed to contain my job to the eight hours a day I was paid for. (The doctoral work happened in the early mornings and evenings.)

Not anymore. If I try to do two or three things at once, I get confused and end up doing nothing well. I can walk from one room to another and forget on the way what I was intending to do in the next room. I’m learning that it’s OK to focus on one thing at a time. For all the rest, I depend on the lists I make when I’m in my right mind. One big problem is that I often forget to read my list. At the end of the day, I can complain, “Oh no! I missed that meeting!” and then see that it was on the list all along. It seems I’ve lost administrative competency.

Even in prayer. I’ve felt for years that God called me as an intercessor and I used to spend a good amount of time in this endeavor. But any more when I sit down to pray, a half-an-hour later I wake up. There are times when I am energized to listen well and pray. But the other times are happening more frequently, the times when it’s almost too much effort. Is there such a thing as competency in prayer? (That sounds very unspiritual.) If there is, I think I’m losing it.

I used to spend hours, even whole days, investigating and writing, being creative. Now if I can get in two hours of creative writing a day, I thank God. But I wonder if and when that will disappear. 

We all face different areas in which the fear of losing competency makes us poor in spirit. So how does this transform into a blessing? How does it somehow put us in greater possession of the kingdom of heaven?

The preacher encouraged us to meditate on the Scriptures, seeing both the truth of our smallness and dependency, as well as of the grandeur of God. I would add that we could soak in the truths about who God says we are, no matter our age (for example, dearly beloved by our Father, friends of Jesus, chosen to bear fruit, etc. etc.)

We struggle to let go and accept age as a new phase of life, not a diminishment. Maybe not so much being less competent as being otherly-competent. (Pardon my freedom with the English language.) I have days when I accept this and feel contentment. But I’m not totally there yet. Times of discouragement still come when I compare what I used to do to what I can (or cannot) do now. When some well-meaning person asks me what I’ve accomplished today, I often can’t think of a good answer. I have to do battle with my feelings and remind myself of who God tells me I am and what I am worth to him.

Somehow the struggle itself is part of the blessing. As we admit our feelings and work through them in the light of God’s truth about us, we actually move towards a blessed dependency. That’s a kingdom task where eventually we find our place in God’s scheme of things.

 Actually, I’m working through this as I write, trying to figure it out. If multi-tasking is not in my future, I’m OK with that. I may be coming into a new way of praying. Maybe the two hours I write in the mornings will result in something beautiful and useful to others, more so than if I labored all day. I remember John Milton’s poem that ends with the line, “They also serve who only stand and wait.” (For me, it would be sit and wait.)

In any case, in God’s up-side-down kingdom, we who are aging, and who are often poor in spirit, are blessed.

I can live with that, even if I don’t understand it.