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We’re Definitely Getting Older . . . But Are We Getting Wiser?

RECENTLY A YOUNG MAN NAMED BAYLEN SHOWED ME his two front teeth. Or, rather, DIDN’T show me his two front teeth.

Baylen just turned seven. There’s a gap in his smile that means he’s growing up. It also makes a neat place to stick a straw and drink Dr Pepper while his jaws are clamped shut. It also makes a neat window through which he can squeeze the tip of his tongue and gross out anyone who may be watching.

Missing teeth are a welcome milestone of maturity.

Well, they’re a welcome milestone of maturity when you’re seven. If you’re my age and older, they can mean gum disease and an artificial bridge. But when you’re seven, they’re way cool.

Teenagers, on the other hand, have other rites of passage. Two days ago the teenaged daughter of one of my best friends got her tongue pierced. Among her age group, this is considered a brilliant thing to do.

She called me the next morning, a note of desperation in her voice: “I need your advice. How should I tell my mom?”

I don’t know why she called me. Maybe the fact that I’m the only grown-up she knows with a belly button ring had something to do with it. (Don’t ask, it’s a long story. Let me just say that I’m having my midlife crisis and it was far cheaper than a Ferrari.)

So I tried to be helpful. Basically, I suggested she take this approach: “Mom, I did something you’re probably not going to like, but before I tell you what it is, I want you to know that keeping your trust and having a good relationship with you is really important to me, and that if you want me to undo what I’ve done, I will. All I ask is that, before you decide, you give me a chance to explain why I’d like to keep it.”

I reminded Rachel that these couldn’t be empty words. I reminded her that her relationship with her folks SHOULD be far more valuable to her than a three-quarter-inch piece of metal in her tongue.

Rachel had the talk with her mom. Amazingly, she still has her piercing. Of course, she’s temporarily living on chicken broth and ice cream and talking like Scooby Doo, but she still has the stud in her tongue.

She sees it, as do her friends, as a sign of independence. But maybe the real sign of maturity is the fact that she was, indeed, willing to remove it so as not to offend her folks. She’s testing boundaries, but when push came to shove, she was willing to put relationships above personal expression.

Either that or she really pulled one over on her mom and me.

Other signs of maturity? How about the fact that when you’re my age and you have a birthday, you truly cannot have your cake and eat it too. This is because, in the time it takes everyone to finish singing “Happy Birthday,” the cake has sustained far too much smoke and fire damage to be edible.

Other signs? I could also mention that my body’s going south—like the fact that my hair is leaving my scalp and showing up on my chin—but there’s enough material on THAT subject to fill an entire book, so I think I’ll save it for later.

Spiritual growth is another matter. Those milestones don’t come automatically with the passing of the years. It’s possible to be a Christian of forty years and still have your baby teeth, so to speak. Possible to be a believer of many decades and not have learned really basic stuff, like the fact that relationships are to be cherished. Possible to have gone to church for a lot of years, but still have the naivete of a baby Christian, without any of the wisdom that tends to accompany spiritual laugh lines, hot flashes, and age spots.

Growing older is guaranteed.

Growing spiritually is a choice.

Are we growing spiritually?

What milestones should we look for?

Let’s think back to when we were new believers. Think about how often we prayed, the kinds of sermons and teaching we digested, how hungry we were to read God’s Word, the temptations we were struggling against. Then think about our lives today. If we can’t see a lot of progress, we may be caught in a time warp: We may be forty-year-old Christians in diapers.

Of course, spiritual growth, just like physical growth, has one prerequisite: Before you can grow, you have to be born.

If you’re not growing spiritually, is it because you’ve yet to be birthed into the family of God? If so, this is a great time for a birthday. A spiritual birthday. Talk to a pastor or a friend who attends church and tell them you’re ready for a new life with Jesus. Or e-mail me and let’s talk. Either way, time’s short. We’re not getting any younger, you and I. No use being spiritual embryos when Jesus desires to give us a full and abundant life!

So let’s grow.

Good-bye baby teeth, hello molars.

The stud in the tongue is optional.