Aging Toward Death
A prayer for the dying (that's all of us!)
I’m in my early forties. To my teenager, I’m “old.” (My 3-year-old doesn’t yet know to have an opinion, but I imagine by the time he’s 17, I’ll be deemed ancient!) Those older than me often tell me I’m still young.
Age, it seems, is often a matter of perspective.
In recent years, my own perspective has been reshaped—sometimes uncomfortably— by a chronic health/pain condition, which has me feeling far older than my years. (This is not nearly as desirable as being wise beyond my years, but I do pray the one will help lead to the other, as I’ve learned wisdom sometimes grows best in difficult soil! #silverlining?) This declining body, complete with ever-increasing silver strands and the deepening “smile lines” common to mid-life, has me pondering the reality of aging toward death.1
From the very moment we begin to live, as that first newborn breath fills our lungs, we begin moving toward death. But youth and health have a way of masking this reality in a costume of invincibility, keeping thoughts of death at bay.
Aging up is different from aging down, no matter that both bring us daily closer to death.
In the youth of our lives, we age up toward the “prime.” Then, at some mid-life point, we begin aging down, inching ever closer toward our ultimate destination. Yet, no matter the season—in prime or decline—we are always one step closer to eternity, whether we are aware of it or not. Sadly, death is not always a respecter of age.
Our days on this earth are limited, and only God knows how many we will get. Each and every moment is a gift and an opportunity to bear fruit and glorify the Lord—no matter our age, stage, or circumstances.
I recently came across this beautiful prayer from Archibald Alexander (an 1800s theologian)2 which has enriched my perspective toward aging and inevitably, dying. Although it’s written with those nearing the end of life in mind, much of the prayer can apply to all of us and offers some helpful encouragement on how to live each day in light of death. (The older language may feel challenging, but perhaps a slow, thoughtful read will touch your soul as it did mine):
A prayer for the aging
O most merciful God, cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength declineth. Now, when I am old and grey-headed, forsake me not; but let Thy grace be sufficient for me; and enable me to bring forth fruit, even in old age. May my hoary3 head be found in the ways of righteousness! Preserve my mind from dotage and imbecility, and my body from protracted disease and excruciating pain. Deliver me from despondency and discouragement in my declining years, and enable me to bear affliction with patience, fortitude, and perfect submission to Thy holy will.
As, in the course of nature, I must be drawing near to my end, and as I know I must soon put off this tabernacle, I do humbly and earnestly beseech Thee, O Father of mercies, to prepare me for this inevitable and solemn event: Fortify my mind against the terrors of death. Give me, if it please Thee, an easy passage through the gate of death. Dissipate the dark clouds and mists which naturally hang over the grave, and lead me gently down into the gloomy valley. O my kind Shepherd, who hast tasted the bitterness of death for me, and who knowest how to sympathize with and succour the sheep of Thy pasture, be Thou present to guide, to support, and to comfort me. Illumine with beams of heavenly light the valley and shadow of death, so that I may fear no evil. When heart and flesh fail, be Thou the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Let not my courage fail in the trying hour. Permit not the great adversary to harass my soul in the last struggle, but make me a conqueror and more than a conqueror in this fearful conflict.
I humbly ask that my reason may be continued to the last, and if it be Thy will, that I may be so comforted and supported, that I may leave a testimony in f”avour of the reality of religion, and Thy faithfulness in fulfilling Thy gracious promises; and that others of Thy servants who may follow after may be encouraged by my example to commit themselves boldly to the guidance and keeping of the Shepherd of Israel.
And when my spirit leaves this clay tenement, Lord Jesus, receive it. Send some of the blessed angels to convoy my inexperienced soul to the mansion which Thy love has prepared. And O! let me be so situated, though in the lowest rank, that I may behold Thy glory. May I have an abundant entrance administered unto me into the kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ; for whose sake, and in whose name, I ask all these things. Amen.
And amen. Truly, may it be so:
May every day, whether full of vitality and vigor or restrictive pain and fatigue, be lived with an eye toward death, because what we do in life matters in death.
Whether we are in the peak of life or the valley of the shadow of death, may our lives bring glory to God and speak of his goodness and faithfulness.
In days of health, may we still be aware of our mortality and conscious of our choices, living in such a way as to leave no reason for fear of death.
In days of decline or pain, may the hope of eternal life sustain us, and may we remain faithful through every trial and affliction.
And let us remember: We are never just aging. We are aging toward Someone and Someplace. And every aging moment is an opportunity to reach beyond ourselves and help lead and disciple others toward the one who can offer the most beautiful paradoxical gift: life in death— Jesus.
He is the only One Necessary Thing in life, in death, and in every breath between.
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Don’t worry, I’m not being fatalistic or hyperbolic. My condition is not leading toward an untimely death, but living with it for much of a decade simply has me thinking about life and death, and health and sickness, a little differently. I have many more thoughts on this that I’ll likely share in the future.
Archibald Alexander (April 17, 1772 – October 22, 1851)[3] was an American Presbyterian theologian and professor at the Princeton Theological Seminary. He served for 9 years as the President of Hampden–Sydney College in Virginia and for 39 years as Princeton Theological Seminary's first professor from 1812 to 1851.[4] (source)
Merriam-webster.com: hoary: “gray or white with or as if with age.” (Truthfully, I think “silver-strands” has a slightly nicer sound than “hoary head,” but— to each their own, Mr. Alexander!) 😉👵🏼