I’m thinking about three men on my 48th birthday

Photo by Rob Wicks on Unsplash

I turned 48 this week.

Birthdays make me think hard about life. What about you?

On this birthday, three men are on my mind.

This first is my great grandfather, Bethel Irwin. I don’t know what he was doing when he was 48 years old, but it had to be bad. He left my great grandmother alone with nine kids. He was a drinker, philanderer, and, as the family story goes, a pimp.

So far, I’ve made better choices than Papaw Bethel, but I have his DNA. I’m capable of doing whatever he did (and don’t think I haven’t thought about it).

The second man on my mind is my grandfather, Walter Irwin. Papaw did a lot of good things for a lot of people, but I think he wanted to do great things. Things that would get him into a hall of fame.

Papaw was eight years old when his father left. A boy that age does not suffer that kind of wound without it scarring him for life. As a young man, Papaw tried to get into the armed forces so he could fight in World War II. A childhood injury, however, kept him out of the service. He was the only one among his brothers who did not fight. They came home war heroes. I have a feeling he never got over being the one who was not “fit” to serve.

Perhaps that is one reason that Papaw worked so, so hard. He devoted himself to building churches and he was good at it. He traveled far and wide, helping little “storefront churches” grow and raise money for new church buildings. In cities and towns all over the country, you can still find many of those buildings that Papaw built.

The road, however, was hard on him. He found a congregation he loved and thought he could serve as minister for many years. He looked forward to putting down roots in the community and raising his family there. But he misplayed (or refused to play) church politics and lost his job after less than two years. I think he never got over that hurt. He never tried full-time congregational ministry again.

Instead, he went into insurance and investments. He made good money until his boss went to prison for securities fraud. A jury found that Papaw did not commit a crime nor was he an accomplice to one. Even so, he endured “guilt by association” and the loss of his professional license. The damage to his good name had to be as painful as any other loss he suffered.

By the time he was 48, I think Papaw was plotting grander and grander projects. I have a feeling he calculated their grandness to more than make up for all of his losses. Sadly, none of those ideas turned out as Papaw planned. Each grand plan that failed added to his losses and made it necessary for the next grand plan to be even grander. By the time he died, Papaw was out of money and out of time.

I’m a lot like Papaw. I’ve never felt like I measured up, so I’ve always felt like I have to do something great with my life to prove myself. I need to do “great things” so I can be sure that I deserve the love of others. So I can be sure that it is OK to love myself.

The third man on my mind is my father, Travis Irwin. When he was 48 years old, he was on the Hillary Step of his career in congregational ministry. When he was my age, Dad was doing what few Church of Christ ministers outside the Bible Belt ever get to do: Help more than double the membership of a local congregation and raise the funds to build a new campus. Dad was not only an excellent evangelist, minister, and pastor, he was the only person I ever knew who seemed to enjoy universal admiration, affection, and respect. He seemed to be beloved by all.

But when he turned 48, Dad was already well on his way to an emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual breakdown. He took too much on himself. He tried to do too many things at once. Why? Oh, he loved. Yes. But he later confessed to me that he didn’t trust anyone else to do what he thought only he could do. He committed the sin of believing on some level that he was the essential man. He paid for that sin when his collapse forced him to give up his congregation and his prime working years. I think the damage he did to his body from the ages of 48 to 53 led to his early death less than three months after his 72nd birthday.

I didn’t think I was much like Dad until the last few months showed me the truth. I abused every part of me to take on too many good things. Yes, all of them were for love. But maybe, like Papaw, I was trying to prove something, too. Maybe, like Dad, I thought I was the one “essential” man in all of it.

And, like Papaw Bethel, I chose poor forms of self-medication to get me through it.

As a consequence, no part of me has ever felt worse than now.

Bethel, Walter, and Travis were men who possessed great gifts and great passions. I have no doubt Papaw and Dad truly loved people and that is why they worked so hard. They did a lot of good with their lives and their work, as thousands of people will attest to this day.

But they sometimes gave in to their weakness and woundedness.

They paid for it and so did the people closest to them.

I think 48 was a crucial age for them. They made choices of grave consequence, both to themselves and the people in their lives. Some of those choices affect people who are still living today. I should know.

So now that I’m 48 years old, what will I do with this crucial age?

Well, I hope to do a little good by the grace of God.

And, I will make mistakes, too. I will sin. I hope I learned enough from the three Irwin men who came before me to avoid the same big mistakes they made. For sure, I do not expect to become a pimp like Papaw Bethel!

This is what I think God would have me do: Be content (Hebrews 13:5). Give thanks (1 Thessalonians 5:16). Let go (Colossians 3:15). Relax. Do what God puts at hand for me to do (Ecclesiastes 9:10). Enjoy here and now (Matthew 6:34). Flee temptation to be god-like or a mini messiah (1 Samuel 15:12). “Simplify, simplify (Thoreau).”

That is all.

God, thank you for all the good I inherited from the men who came before me and whose blood is the life in my 48-year old body (for which I give special thanks this week). Thank you for the honor and opportunity to continue their stories. Thank you for the wisdom I gain from their mistakes. Thank you for revealing that I am no better and no worse than them. Help me to accept and receive your love and the love of those you put in my life for the purpose of love. Help me to live a simple life by your grace for as many days as you give me. Amen.

Grace and peace.