I recently celebrated thirty years as an ordained minister in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.
(I haven’t had a marriage last that long.)
Out of all those years, the last ten have been the easiest. I owe much of that to the wonderful and progressive congregation I have had the privilege of serving. However, I must also acknowledge my own personal growth in this journey.
When I first started out, I was a shy young woman who often had to fake confidence. Leading worship services was never an issue for me because I excelled in writing and speaking. However, the other aspects of ministry always seemed like a scramble to prove myself. In moments of fear, disillusionment, or frustration with the church, my internal mantra was something along the lines of “F–k it! I’ll just go and get an MBA.”
Of course, pursuing a third master’s degree in business was illogical for me. I couldn’t even read a stock report. But I needed an escape plan, a mental release valve. As a child, I was taught not to let myself be confined, and that sentiment stuck with me.
Unfortunately, circumstances did confine me to some extent. As a single parent and breadwinner, I had to provide stability for my small family. We made several moves, with my children attending different school districts, but I mostly remained in one geographic area. I never sought status in the church or aspired to a bigger and better parish. I considered myself fortunate to have served a few amazing ones and didn’t feel the need for more.
However, even as I celebrate this significant milestone, I am aware of something else. Our culture tends to view aging as a process of becoming irrelevant rather than accumulating wisdom. But personally, I feel that I am still too young to be seen as irrelevant. After all, my oldest and wisest friend is 92, and I still value his advice and counsel. Age doesn’t equate to cluelessness.
Over the past thirty years, the denomination I serve has become increasingly progressive and focused on social justice. However, much of what is portrayed as “Christianity” in the United States is unrecognizable and harmful. Fortunately, I see a wealth of talent among my younger colleagues, and I appreciate their contributions. Yet, I worry about the vitriol and polarization that pervades our country, especially within faith communities. It’s a challenging path to advocate for social justice in this climate, and I think of a close colleague who faced resistance from his governing board when he wanted to put the word “justice” on the church sign. I admire his patience because if it were me, I would be tempted to utter my “Freak it! I’ll go get an MBA!” mantra.
The toxicity of ageism is real, but aging itself doesn’t have to be seen as toxic. This is because accumulated wisdom is a genuine asset.
During the past ten years of my ministry, I have gained a profound sense of confidence. I have witnessed and processed enough experiences to have a better understanding of things. I no longer concern myself with what others think of me. I know that I am educated, firmly rooted in a solid tradition, and enriched by my experiences.
Yet, I am well aware that there is always more to learn.
As Dag Hammarskjöld once wrote, “For all that has been — thanks. For all that will be, yes.”
Yes.
Jo Page is a writer and Lutheran minister. Contact her at [email protected].
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