Dear Lord, Why Have me Hang Around for 86 Years?

Craig Johnson

Somewhere around 6:30 every morning, usually when a knee, a shoulder, my back, or something I didn’t even know I owned wakes me up, I ask God a sincere theological question: “OH God, why did you let me hang around for 86 years?” It’s not rebellion. It’s curiosity… mixed with stiffness.

At this age, nothing hurts all the time, but something hurts most of the time. Getting out of bed has become a strategic operation. I don’t “jump up” anymore; I negotiate. My knees creak like an old pew, my back offers commentary, and my feet insist on being consulted before I take my first step. I spend the first ten minutes of the day just checking which parts are willing to cooperate.

The world has a clear opinion about this stage of life. It quietly suggests that once you move slower, nap more, and make funny noises when you stand up, your useful years are behind you. The scripture, however, strongly disagrees.

Abraham was old when God made promises. Moses was eighty when God said, “I have a job for you.” Simeon and Anna waited their entire lives to meet the Messiah, and God made sure they were still around when Jesus showed up. Apparently, God is not in a hurry, and He has no retirement plan.

From a Lutheran perspective, this is very good news. Our worth does not depend on strong joints, sharp memories, or how many steps our watch says we took today. We are justified by grace, not flexibility. Vocation doesn’t end when the body starts filing complaints. Sometimes our calling is simply to pray, to listen, to encourage, and to remind the rest of the church that faith can survive arthritis, stenosis, and even Parkinson’s.

At 86, I move slower, but I notice more. I complain a little, but I pray a lot. And I’ve learned that “hanging around” may itself be a calling: to bear witness that God’s grace lasts longer than our cartilage. So, when I ask God why I’m still here, I imagine the answer comes gently, and with a sense of humor: “Because I’m not finished with you yet, and because the church still needs people who know where the heating pads are.” And that, aches and all, is reason enough.

Lord’s Peace,

Craig

A Closing Prayer Gracious God, You know every ache, every pain, and every joint that no longer bends the way it used to. Thank You for walking with us through all the seasons of life, even the creaky ones. Help us trust that our worth rests in Your grace, not our strength. Give us patience, a sense of humor, and deep confidence that You are not finished with us yet. Through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.