Finishing Well By Letting Go

Advancing Age Brings Necessary Changes

When he was still in his twenties, singer Jimmy Buffet had a big hit with a song about “changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes,” where “nothing remains quite the same.” While it’s nice to know that Jimmy is still bringing joy with his music, there’s something a bit sad about the sight a 70-year-old man singing the same sorts of songs to many of the same fans.

The entertainer may well be content to waste away in the Margaritaville he created. After all, much of his most popular music is about escaping responsibility or relationships and living for solace in the moment. But it can’t really be like it was for him in the early days. The young man had it right when he observed that nothing remains the same.

Everyone’s situations change, and attitudes do morph. Relationships wax and wane. As the years roll on, we pursue new interests and shed old pastimes. We acquire different stuff and, if we are wise, don’t let too much of it accumulate. Our bodies (and brains) also become more likely to let us down.

If we are not adapting to and learning from these inevitable changes, we simply stagnate—which is just another way to lose touch with reality and watch our spirits wither. Something deep within us will always yearn for a more abundant life.

Few things are sadder than to see aging men living in the past, as if the embellished accomplishments of years gone by are sufficient for the current day. Sad too to see men of means investing their “golden years” in five rounds of golf a week, as if advancing age entitles one to drift into selfishness. Isn’t life worth more than that?

FROM WORK TO WISDOM

As we age, our needs change. When the allure of partying and ceaseless activity begins to fade, younger men are typically eager to develop their careers and establish families. This is their season to invest in real estate and primary relationships—a time of building social identity and revealing character; the phase to develop the face they’ll show to the world.

As we approach “middle age” (which shows up at different ages for different men), something shifts inside, and the work that so occupied us in the previous decades becomes less satisfying. Even if we have the identity we desire—the home of our dreams, a decent job, and a wonderful family—we may well wonder if this is all there is.

Many men respond to this “crisis” in immature ways, seeking to recapture some of the vitality of fading youth and layering the exercise with the advantages of money and experience. Sports cars and flings are the stereotypical signs of the inner displacement men of a certain stage are apt to encounter.

Learning to recognize these feelings before they emerge unhealthily is an important first step on the road to greater maturity. The antidote to this latent sense of lost youth is to pursue less, not more. New relationships and fancier cars will not solve the inner crisis. Doing more of the same (albeit in flashier style) is no cure.

This is the stage of life where it is necessary to start dismantling many of the constructs we’ve developed so far.

The fact is, our children no longer depend on us in the same way. Nor does our spouse. Nor, for that matter, does our workplace. Our first impulse is likely to refuse to go along with these unwelcome developments. If we persist in resisting, however, we condemn ourselves to living with increasing discomfort in our old skins. Lassitude will set in.

None of this is new. The ancient psalmist sensibly captures a universal anxiety about human existence, observing how “the days of our life are seventy years, or perhaps eighty, if we are strong; even then their span is only toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away” (Psalm 90:10). What’s the point of it all?

It is, however, possible for us to float with the changing tide, to embrace the apparent reversals and flow into a next stage where we encounter new meaning and purpose for our lives.

There is a great role in life for men who never stop learning, never stop growing, never stop letting go of the fleeting things of life in order to embrace matters more enduring.

HEART OF WISDOM

“So teach us to count our days that we may gain a wise heart” (Psalm 90:12).

How do we order our days to achieve this “heart of wisdom” in our advancing years? What does it take for men to finish well? What will attune us to our true purpose, align us with our best role, keep us appropriately active, and healthy in mind, body, and spirit?

It begins with a willingness to be, or become, intensely self-aware. This is the opposite of egoistic selfabsorption. This is the self that is willing to peer hard at the core of identity and pare away anything unnecessary. This involves letting go of behaviours, ideas, stuff, ambitions, self-deceits—anything superfluous to the person we were created to be.

It means we must be open to new possibilities, not trapped in old habits. It requires a generosity of spirit that many men find so difficult to allow. It means being willing to jettison our formulaic responses, and to open our hearts and minds to new ideas, ambitions and activities. This is what it takes to become more truly ourselves.

Obviously this will look different for every individual. A man who was a stranger to the kitchen may learn the joys of cooking (and make others happy in the process). A semi-retired custodial worker may transfer his skill sets from the factory floor to a church building. A veterinarian might travel to Africa and care for cows in some remote village. Board work for charities is a place where the wisdom of years can be a valuable contribution. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren are reservoirs of joyful opportunity.

As age advances, activity levels will necessarily ebb. Our bodies do wear out. Yet the possibilities for enriching service in declining years are manifold. All it takes is a concerted effort to desire to allow oneself to recede, and to seek to elevate those around you.

HUMBLE SERVICE

Ironically, becoming more fully your true self means setting self-interest aside in service to others. This requires humility, which has been aptly described as “the noble choice to forego your status, deploy your resources or use your influence for the good of others before yourself.”

Humility is wonderful virtue for aging men to model. It is not selfdiminishing. As business writer Ken Blanchard observes, “People with humility don’t think less of themselves; they just think of themselves less.” This is wise. True humility has a way of attending to matters more important than our own ego-driven sense of well-being.

None of this comes easy, of course. Yet letting go of a false sense of self and laying hold of what is ultimately true is the work for men in the second half of life. It’s a holy calling, one made much easier when not only do we cultivate self-awareness and attend to the needs of others, but when we reach deep in our hearts to connect with the transcendent—to cultivate a relationship with the God who brought us into being.

It’s profoundly encouraging when men can fully embrace the fundamental truth that we were created in God’s image. This enables us to look beyond the mundane activity of our lives, and the frightful fact of so much that’s gone wrong, and to see these realities as distortions of the image of the holy that is implanted in every person in God’s world.

Men who finish well are those who trust God enough to let loose of their egos and cling to their faith that God is good and God is love. Such men will discover healthy opportunities for service, and will not waste the time God gives them.

Older men are called to imbue this world with the wisdom we all so sorely need. May their tribe increase.

/ DOUG KOOP was the founding editor of SEVEN magazine, and longtime editor of ChristianWeek newspaper. He currently serves as a Spiritual Health Practitioner (chaplain) in a major downtown hospital, and continues to write on a freelance basis.