Cake candles are lit
Happy birthday to PopPop
Sixty-five years, phew
Easing into my “prayer chair,” before even opening my Bible to read, I thanked the Lord: I had made it to my 65th birthday.
Closing my eyes, slowly breathing in and out, something (the Lord?) prompted a memory from way back when. The kids were all home, having just come walked in from the last day of school. They plopped down, report cards in hand.
One said, “I have all A’s and a B;” another said, “I have two B’s and two A’s;” and a third echoed, “I got two A’s and two B’s, too.”
The fourth child, Harrison, was the last to share his grades.
Harrison had always struggled in the academic arena. His ADHD was, no doubt, a contributing factor in his struggle for academic success. I always felt he was smarter than his grades reflected because he was. That day after his three siblings had so matter-of-factly shared their grades, they almost put their hands over their mouths, fearful they had unintentionally forgotten Harrison’s feelings, afraid they had put him in an embarrassing position. As a parent, I wondered how I might spring him from the potential predicament without being obvious about the effort.
I need not have worried. Without a hint of jealously toward his brother and sisters, there he sat, all smiles, with grades in hand.
“I passed,” he joyfully exclaimed.
And the other three celebrated.
While they had been concerned about their t G.P.A.’s, Harrison was happy to have passed to the next grade.
“Sometimes passing is enough,” I thought.
Looking around the room Saturday morning, on my 65th birthday, I felt that truth: sometimes passing is enough.
I repeated it, this time to my wife: “I passed. I’m here, alive and well and in my right mind. I may not have all A’s, but I’m here; I passed.”
People tend to grade life according to their A’s, B’s, C’s, D’s, and F’s, which they conveniently hang on others. Different people have different grading scales, depending on what’s important to them. Although most of us are guilty of personal grade inflation while being tougher on others, we know we don’t measure up. We seem intuitively to fear that when we have lived our allotted number of years, we will come up one credit grade shy of “okay.” Though we desperately want to know we’re good, that we have passed and not failed, something seems to whisper in our ear, “No, you haven’t.”
But this past Saturday morning, having notched something of a milestone in terms of longevity, I rested in the assurance that I had passed and not failed.
That’s not because my performance had merited it, far from that. Indeed, my record is irreparably marred. Yet, I have peace because I rest my case in the hands of the One who did for me what I could never have done for myself; Jesus Christ lived the perfect life that I failed to live, and in exchange for my sin, I received His righteousness.
Sitting there in my chair, taking it all in, I could relax, knowing my age isn’t the main thing about the amount of time I’ve spent on this earth. I have peace knowing I have a passing grade, by God’s good grace.
More important than the physical age, whatever it is on your birth certificate, and more significant than how you may feel on any given day, is the assurance of having passed. It demolishes that nagging question, “Do I pass or fail?” The unresolved question engenders a life of fear, guilt, and remorse. But once at peace, we can be happy, joyous, and free.
As Harrison’s words rattled around in the recesses of my memory, I find the best commentary on them in John Newton’s hymn, Amazing Grace: “Through many dangers, toils, and snares/I have already come/’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far/And grace will lead me home.”
Yes, indeed, by God’s grace:
I passed.