I turned 26 a few months ago and apparently being in your late 20s is when you’re supposed to start worrying about aging and wrinkles?
I googled it.
I’ve been taking collagen in my coffee almost daily for two years now (it’s a protein thing), so I’m not concerned about the decreased production in my body causing wrinkles down the road.
Not that I would care anyway. I’ve been praying for white hair and wrinkles since I was 18 years old and survived two near-death experiences within three months.
See, white hair is a sign that I beat the odds.
Wrinkles are evidence that God is sovereign.
Age spots reveal a body that is still thriving.
And as a young woman living with no guarantees, I think I’m actually offended by all the 20-somethings obsessed with frozen forehead serums, anti-aging skincare, and facial wrinkles!
Remember, I’m not supposed to turn 35.
I look around me and shake my head. I exit Instagram with a sigh.
Have they forgotten the blessings that come with white hairs?
Have they forgotten that wrinkles reveal life?
Don’t they remember that self-obsession is cursed?
During any given week, there is usually a moment where my soul mourns, “Wow, I live such a different life.”
From choosing to spend my money differently to my usage of social media to my theology of work, the big things in my life often look so different than that of my peers.
And while occasionally uncomfortable, this is a good thing!
Instead of buying a house, we pay medical bills. I am alive and well because of this choice!
Instead of consuming constantly, I intentionally create. The Lord is building a ministry (or two) because of this choice!
And instead of complaining about work, I believe work is good and I seek to do good work. My family has been blessed by this choice!
I’m learning that I need a “theology of aging,” and I’m understanding that it will be radically different, too.
See, I believe wrinkles matter. I believe white and gray hairs are evidence of God’s promises. I believe aging serves a divine purpose on earth. And I believe avoiding it is part vanity and part avoidance of God Himself.
I was bed-ridden. Hadn’t left the house in a couple months. Two new diagnoses had doctors stymied and my body sleeping 20 hours a day. I was told I probably had a rare blood cancer (I didn’t and don’t). All my hopes and dreams of newlywed life and life in a new city and career aspirations went poof!
In so many ways, I felt destroyed. Utterly undone.
Enter 2 Corinthians 4.16 (CSB)
Even though our outer person is being destroyed, our inner person is being renewed day by day…so we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
I remember sobbing the first time these words hit my soul in that season.
See, the few hours I was awake, I either made grocery lists and meal plans for my husband, or I devoured Scripture and scribbled prayers in my journal through tears.
My outer person – my body – was being destroyed, literally. But my innards – my soul – was in the midst of being made fresh.
It was that new and refreshed spirit that allowed me to laugh when my doctors told me I wouldn’t turn 35.
See, God had spoken Isaiah 46.3-4 (CSB) over me already.
Listen to Me, [you] who have been sustained from the womb, carried along since birth. I will be the same until your old age, and I will bear you up when you turn gray. I have made you, and I will carry you; I will bear you and rescue you.
It’s a promise. A promise of old age and gray hair to accompany the already weak body I possess. It’s a reminder that three times, I have almost died, and three times, the Lord did what medicine could not.
He saved. He bore me up. He rescued me.
And He delivered me into the waiting rooms and presence of the wrinkled and gray-crowned elders who live what I continue to desperately pray for.
I’ve been the youngest in any doctor’s office, surgical or procedural waiting room, and infusion center since I was 17 years old. It’s a bit of a badge of honor, I won’t lie. I enjoy looking around and being the youngest!
But it’s also a reminder that I live the life of a much older person. That is hard and sobering, and I digress.
I admire how the older women wear their crowns of age, and I appreciate how little make-up they use. There is no cover-up in these spaces. I chuckle at the hats of older men, and I find myself praying TR is drawn to suspenders when he goes bald.
We admire the relationship dynamics of these elder couples – an intimate companionship born out of hundreds of thousands of shared memories and a deep commitment to friendship. The changes in their appearances do not deter a protective hand on her back or reaching for his hand. Though wrinkled, their hands and fingers still intertwine together perfectly.
A few months ago, TR and I set out on our church-finding journey. One thing we immediately knew we needed in a new church were gray hairs. Even here, we deeply desire wrinkles in our body. See, gray hair is a glorious crown; it is found in the ways of righteousness (Proverbs 16.31 CSB).
According to Hebrew tradition, that crown is whatever beautifies and dignifies a person. Often, it is age. Wrinkles. Gray hair.
Why are we trying to hide it? Remove it? Avoid it?!Why are we saying “no” to the crowns and vestiges of age, wisdom, and righteousness???
I recently came out of a four-year period of severe unhealth. The stress in and on my body has been truly unimaginable, even to me who has already lived through it!
And I still don’t have a single gray hair.
Yes, I’m a bit miffed about it! In a very real way, my body has earned a gray hair or two!
But, too, I remember Jeremiah 4.30 (CSB) and know self-obsession is cursed.
And you devastated one, what are you doing that you dress yourself in scarlet, that you adorn yourself with gold jewelry, that you enlarge your eyes with paint? You beautify yourself for nothing.
It’s part of a lament about the destruction of the tribe of Judah. They have an idolatry problem, and self-idolatry is specifically called out here.
And before you say it, I know, I know. Our bodies are temples and should be cared for. I agree! But if you’re drinking venti pumpkin lattes every week while claiming frozen forehead serum is caring for your temple, I have questions!
Our culture suffers from debilitating ageism. We assume getting older is one of the worst things to happen. We make derogatory jokes about getting old; we invest money into looking younger; we write off the older generation as outdated, useless, and decrepit.
But [the righteous] will still bear fruit in old age, healthy and green, [standing] to declare: “The Lord is just; He is my Rock, and there is no unrighteousness in Him” (Psalm 92.12-15 CSB).
If wrinkles indicate health, sign me up!
If gray and white hairs indicate flourishing, I’m there.
And if old age means I can declare His goodness more, bring. it. on.
See the righteous in that Psalm are being compared to a mature date palm tree. A source of food, shelter, shade, décor, and religious rhythms. They were even the unit of measure in Roman times!
My new church has an average age of 60 (I think), no joke, and it thrills me in a way I cannot describe! Their wrinkles will be a source of shelter. Their white hairs and balding crowns will provide shade I did not know I needed. The rhythms borne from their maturity will only bless me as I seek the same.
I’ve often said that one of the blessings of my broken body is her inability to hide spiritual realities. I believe aging is the same way.
So the next time you’re bemoaning signs of aging on your face and in your skin, think of me, okay? Those signs are ones I still pray for the privilege of experiencing. And the next time you’re purchasing a couple hundred dollars of anti-aging skincare, pause and go to the mirror. Look at your signs of aging through the Bible verses here.
Because at the end of the day, that’s what aging is.
It’s a privilege.
We don’t all get to grow into mature palm trees 🖤
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