Elder

Os Guinness argues that God can use and has used people in their youth, but God also has accomplished some of his best work through people more advanced in life experience:

It is said that gymnasts are old at twenty, boxers at thirty-five, cricketers and baseball players at forty. Yet doctoral students are old at thirty, while young as professors at thirty-one. Novelists, we are told, do their best work in their twenties and thirties, whereas painters are still young in their forties. Most leaders of the great revivals and awakenings were under the age of thirty, but many of the greatest leaders of nations have been in their eighties. Golda Meir only became prime minister of Israel at the age of eighty.

In short, the way of excellence as well as contentment is to be "our utmost for God's highest" at whatever age we are. Another truth we tend to forget is that many things in life are better with age. The foolishness of the 1960s slogan, "Don't trust anyone over thirty," was upended by Thomas Oden's brilliant quip, "Don't trust anyone under three hundred." When Andras Schaff, the virtuoso Hungarian pianist, played a sixtieth birthday concert in London, he chose to perform Beethoven's "Diabelli Variations." He had waited until he was fifty, he said, to play Beethoven's thirty-two sonatas. And only after he had performed twenty complete cycles of the sonatas would he dare to move on to the "Diabelli Variations." "It's the most wonderful, the most colorful composition Beethoven ever wrote … . I cannot understand pianists who are 20 years old and they immediately play that piece. It cannot be serious." Another pianist, Artur Schnabel, remarked similarly, "Mozart sonatas are 'too easy for children, and too difficult for adults.'"

For four decades, Amos Alonzo Stagg coached football at the University of Chicago. They were the original Monsters of the Midway, long before the Bears borrowed that moniker. For decades during and long after Coach Stagg's heyday, you couldn't go too far on campus without bumping into his influence. Not only did he lead the Maroons to two national titles in 1905 and 1913, but his football legacy includes the huddle, the Statue of Liberty play, onside kick, the T formation, the end-around, and the forward pass. In other words, he practically invented football as we know it.

But that isn't his true legacy. When he accepted the invitation to coach the Maroons, he gave the university president an acceptance speech of sorts, saying, "After much thought and prayer, I decided that my life can best be used for my Master's service in the position you have offered." Amos Alonzo Stagg coached until the age of ninety-eight, but he didn't just coach his teams. He discipled them.

In the early 1970s, a psychologist at named David Kipnis wanted to know if power really does corrupt people. So in a series of experiments, Kipnis had subjects assume the role of "manager" over a group of "employees" in a fictitious work situation. In some cases, Kipnis gave the managers very little power. In other cases, the managers had considerable power: they decided whether employees were fired, transferred, or promoted. The bosses with more power were more likely to use coercive or "strong tactics," such as criticizing employees, making demands, and displaying anger. They were more dismissive of an employees' performance, and tended to credit themselves for their employees' success. Powerful bosses were also more likely to keep a psychological distance between themselves and their employees. Kipnis concluded that having power inflates our sense of self and makes us less able to empathize with those lacking power.

In a another 2012 study, another researcher named Paul Piff had subjects play a two-person game of Monopoly in which power was intentionally skewed: one player was given a wad of cash and the use of both dice, while the other player received only half the cash and one die. Within minutes, the subjects with more cash and dice (the "high-status players") began acting noticeably different. They hogged the space at the table, made less eye contact, and took more liberties, such as moving the low-status players' game pieces for them. They also made more noise when they moved their own pieces. Everyone knew the game was rigged, and yet within a few minutes the roles crystallized and the high-status players started pushing people around and acting like they had real power and status.

The conclusion of both experiments? A little bit of power really does corrupt ordinary people, even when it's just a game.

As an under-graduate, theologian/author D.A. Carson co-led an evangelistic Bible study. He confessed that whenever he felt out of his depths, he would take skeptics and doubters to a bold witness on campus named Dave. On one such occasion, a young man who was brought to Dave said, "I came from a family that doesn't believe in a literal resurrection and all that stuff. That's a bit much for us. But we're a fine family—a good, church-going family. We love each other, care for each other, and we do good in the community. We're a stable family. So what have you got that we don't have?"

Dave looked at the young man and said, "Watch me. Move in with me. I have an extra bed. Just follow me around. You see how I behave, what's important to me, what I do with my time, the way I talk. You watch me, and at the end of three months you tell me there's no difference."

The young man didn't take Dave up on that offer, but he did keep coming back to watch how Dave lived his Christian life. Eventually the young man came to Christ and went on to become a medical missionary. Carson concluded what he learned from Dave's challenge:

A Christian is saying in effect: "I'm one poor beggar telling another poor beggar where there's bread. I drank deeply from the wellsprings of grace. God knows I need more of it. If you watch me you'll see some glimmerings of the Savior, and ultimately you'll want to fasten on him. Watch me."

At a men's retreat, a group of 30-40 men of all ages sat in a room sharing joys and deep aches of the soul. A young man named Jason sat in his chair, his face buried in his hand, his head occasionally rising to gasp a breath as he sobbed, Why didn't he want me? I don't understand why my dad didn't want me. Why didn't he want me, man? What's wrong with me?" None of the other men in the room had the answer to his question. But most of us knew the problem: young Jason was crying out for the acceptance and affirmation of his father. He was saying, "Am I such a defect that I am unlovable as a son and as a man?"

What happened next was absolutely beautiful and unscripted. Phil, an older man in the group, got out of his seat and walked straight over to Jason. He embraced him and in a loud voice said to him, "Jason, I'll be your dad and you're my son!"

From that day forward, Phil was involved in Jason's life as a surrogate father. Their relationship with one another deepened as the years passed. Although Phil didn't pay for Jason's college tuition or his room and board, he was present to pray with Jason, take him to lunch, listen to his struggles, and share his life wisdom with him. During one of my last conversations with Phil before he died, we talked about his relationship with Jason. At one point, he lifted his head and with a passionate conviction and said, "You know Jason is my son!" I nodded in the affirmative and said, "I know."

Phil became a tangible expression of our Heavenly Father's love for a young man who felt unwanted and unworthy of his natural father's love.

Possible Preaching Angle: Although this story is about two men, the principle of becoming a "father" to a lost "son" applies to a woman becoming a "mother" to a lost "daughter." This is what we should do for each other in the body of Christ.

American businesses lose $300 billion annually because of employees struggling with chronic health conditions and billions more due to mild illnesses and "family emergencies." What helps employees show up to work more often? One word: hope. In other words, employees who are excited about the company's goals and their own future will miss less work.

That's the conclusion of a research study conducted by management professor James Avey. Avey led a team that studied hope and absences among more than one hundred engineers in a Fortune 100 high-tech firm. Working with the firm's human resource department, Avey surveyed the participants and divided them into high-hope and low-hope workers. High-hope workers understand, get excited about, and feel they can contribute to the company's goals and vision. Over the course of 12 months, the high-hope engineers missed an average of 20 hours of work, or less than three days of work (not associated with planned leaves or vacations), with many of them missing no time at all. Low-hope engineers missed more than 10 days of work each, on average. These employees cost the firm nearly four times as much as their high-hope colleagues in lost productivity due to sick days. No other workplace measure (including job satisfaction, commitment to the company, confidence to do the job) counted more than hope in determining whether an employee would show up.

Possible Preaching Angles: (1) Work; Employers—This certainly applies to work settings. (2) Leaders; Leadership; Vision—It also applies to leadership in general. In other words, do leaders provide the kind of vision and mission that motivates people to contribute to a church or organization? (3) Suffering; Trials—A vision for a positive, hopeful future gives us strength to make it through times of suffering.

Ruben Pavon was driving down the road in Derry, New Hampshire when a store caught his eye. It was a large building with lots of stuff out front just sitting on the sidewalk. But it was the name on the building that got Ruben into trouble: Finders Keepers.

Ruben was caught on surveillance video carrying off a grill from out in front of the store. But Ruben actually confessed to taking other things the security camera didn't catch—a DVD player, for one. But can taking things really be wrong if the store is named Finders Keepers?

The store's owner, Laura Barker, said, "I don't know of any stores where there's free stuff. It would be nice if there were. I'd be there on a regular basis myself." But in his defense, Ruben claimed that the store's sign, "Finders Keepers," created specific expectations in his mind. That's why later on he said, "I thought it was there for the taking. The sign did say 'Finders Keepers.' So I took that DVD player, took it home. A couple of weeks later, the stuff is still there on the porch, so I'm thinking to myself, 'Finders Keepers.' They probably just put stuff out there for people to take."

Ruben eventually returned all of the merchandise that he "found" in front of the store, but maybe Laura Barker should consider a new name for her store.

Possible Preaching Angles: Integrity vs. Hypocrisy—This story illustrates the need to walk the talk as a Christian. In other words, when we put a name, a sign on our lives—like "Christian," "church," "pastor," "leader," and "elder"—it implies that we will live and act a certain way. Those names or labels create certain expectations. Do we live up to the "signs" we hang on our lives?

Why do some changes happen quickly while other changes occur slowly? Writer and surgeon Dr. Atul Gawande argues that we tend to rely heavily on technology, media, or programs, but there is a better way: person-to-person contact and relationship-building. Gawande writes:

In the era of iPhone, Facebook, and Twitter … we want frictionless, "turnkey" solutions to the major difficulties of the world—hunger, disease, poverty. We prefer instructional videos to teachers, drones to troops, incentives to institutions. People and institutions can feel messy and [backwards.] But technology and programs are not enough …. Mass media can introduce a new idea to people. But … people follow the lead of other people they know and trust when they decide whether to [change.]

This is something that salespeople understand well. I once asked a pharmaceutical rep how he persuaded doctors—who are notoriously stubborn—to adopt a new medicine. Evidence is not remotely enough, he said …. You must apply "the rule of seven touches." Personally "touch" the doctors seven times, and they will come to know you; and, if they trust you, they will change. That's why he stocked the doctor's closets with free samples in person. Then he could poke his head around the corner and ask, "So how did your daughter Debbie's soccer game go?" Eventually, this can become "Have you seen this study on our new drug? How about giving it a try?" As the rep had recognized, human interaction is the key force in overcoming resistance and speeding change.

Leadership is the capacity to inspire and motivate; to persuade people willingly to endure hardships, usually prolonged, and incur dangers, usually acute, that if left to themselves they would do their utmost to avoid.

In his book Up with Authority, Victor Lee Austin uses the analogy of an orchestra to explain why we need human authority. Orchestras need conductors because the musicians don't have a single right answer to questions like, "What should we play at the concert?" or "What should we practice today?" or "How should we interpret this passage?" Each musician might have a perfectly reasonable opinion, but their opinions will inevitably be different and will almost always be incompatible with one another. And it's no good for each musician to do what is right in his or her own ears. It won't do for the brass section to insist on playing a one musical piece if the strings have chosen to play a completely different piece. If the orchestra is to perform coherently, if the musicians want to perform music rather than just make noise, somebody has to have authority to decide.

By submitting to the authority of a conductor, individual musicians attain musical expression they could never realize individually or even as a collection of free-wheeling players. Authority is necessary for classical musicians to bring musical fulfillment to others. In the words of Victor Lee Austin, the conductor's authority yields "a greater degree of human flourishing than we would have from the musicians separately or individually." What is true for orchestras is true for human life in general.

In his book Nearing Home, Billy Graham offers the following advice about the opportunities in growing older:

When Coca-Cola changed its one-hundred-year-old formula in 1985, there was a public backlash and demands for the original, so within two short months the company was forced to return the beverage to grocery shelves under the name of Coca-Cola Classic, spiking sales for the soft drink company. The conclusion of marketers was that the formula had stood the test of time. The trade-secret had trumped the new recipe, as proven by the millions of fans who did not want the "real thing" tampered with.

What does this have to do with growing old? Old is authentic. Old is genuine. Old is valuable. Some say old is even beautiful …. The older generation may have a hard time keeping up with the younger, but let's remember that as long as we are still breathing, we are leading the way. The generations that follow are learning about growing old from us. Are we good examples? While we have all made mistakes and would like to turn back the clock to correct some things, we know this is not possible. But the lessons we have learned from our successes and failures can help those following behind. The impact we can potentially have on them can mean the difference between leaving good memories in our place or simply being out of sight, out of mind.

In his book Xealots, Dave Gibbons reflects on the nature of true success as a leader:

Charlotte's Web is a wonderful little children's story by author E. B. White about a spider named Charlotte who lives in a barn just above the stall of a pig named Wilbur. Wilbur is worried that once he grows fat enough, the farmer is going to turn him into bacon. It's a valid concern.

Charlotte and Wilbur develop a close friendship, and as Wilbur grows larger, Charlotte uses all of her resources to try to rescue Wilbur. She writes messages in her web to convince the farm's owners that Wilbur is a pig worth saving. The story builds to the final chapter titled "The Moment of Triumph."

So what was Charlotte's moment of triumph?

As the story draws to a close, Charlotte the spider is in the barn dying, [Wilbur the pig is being judged at the county fair in a pig contest], and she can hear the roar of applause for Wilbur [as he wins a special prize and thus his life is spared.] Charlotte finds great joy in knowing that her life has meant the success of another, her close friend, Wilbur. Though no one will remember her, the things she has done, and the sacrifices she has made, she is satisfied, having loved her friend in life and in death.

Gibbons adds" "[Leadership] is about fading. The great ones willingly move into irrelevance."

At the age of 23, Second Lieutenant Karl Marlantes was in charge of 40 marines during an intense battle in the Vietnam War. Marlantes had moved his men into the jungle as they waited for U.S. jets to bomb a hill that North Vietnamese soldiers had overtaken. Unfortunately, the jets came and dropped their bombs on the wrong hill. So when Marlantes led his men out of the jungle, they were instantly under fire from untouched machine-gun positions. Marlantes knew it would only take a few minutes before the enemy rockets and mortars found his troops. The entire mission ground to a halt as the U.S. soldiers ducked behind downed trees and huddled in shell holes.

Marlantes knew what he had to do next. He writes:

If I didn't get up and lead, we'd get wiped out …. I did a lot of things that day … but the one I'm most proud of is that I simply stood up, in the middle of that flying metal, and started up the hill …. I simply ran forward up the steep hill, zigzagging for the bunker, all by myself, hoping [my own soldiers] wouldn't hit me in the back. It's hard to zigzag while running uphill loaded down with ammunition and grenades.

But then in the midst of his solo charge up the hill to take out the enemy, Marlantes suddenly saw some movement in his peripheral vision:

It was a marine! He was about 15 meters below me, zigzagging, falling, up and running again. Immediately behind him a long ragged line of Marines came moving and weaving up the hill behind me. Behind the line were spots of crumpled bodies, lying where they'd been hit. They'd all come with me …. Everyone was intermingled, weaving, rushing and covering, taking on each hole and bunker one at a time in groups …. We, the group, just rushed forward all at once. We couldn't be stopped. Just individuals among us were stopped … but we couldn't be …. I was we, no longer me.

When he first became a Christian, Augustine's ambition was to live the rest of his life as a private person, focusing on prayer and quiet contemplation. But other church leaders noticed the depth of his spiritual life and tapped him to be a bishop. From that point on, Augustine would have to relinquish his desire for a quiet, private life and focus on overseeing a number of churches.

Author Gary Thomas retells what happened next in Augustine's life:

In 427, the Arian Vandals advanced into North Africa, where Augustine lived and ministered. Genserik, the Vandal King, specifically sought out Christian churches …. Refugees poured into Hippo, the city where Augustine was serving, and it wasn't long before Genserik had laid siege to Augustine's city.

The refugees not only brought heightened responsibilities for Augustine, they also brought disease. In the fifth century, so many people packed into so tight a space, it inevitably created a sick environment. At this point, Augustine had three choices: He could flee …, he could stay holed up in his palace and ignore the needs of his people but perhaps preserve his own health, or he could get his hands dirty, and risk becoming ill himself.

Augustine didn't know how to be a bishop from afar, so he kept up his active schedule, being present with the people—and paid dearly for service. During the third month of the siege, in August of 430, Augustine developed a high fever from which he never recovered. This powerful man of God, whose books Christians still read … gave his last hours ministering to the most basic needs of a frightened flock.

In a blog post, Justin Buzzard wrote:

While I think it is important to be known more for what you are for than what you are against, just a cursory reading of the Bible shows that it also calls us to deal with false teaching. Why? Because false teaching is dangerous and destructive; it hurts people.

About ten years ago I heard Ben Patterson say something that I will never forget. Ben told the story of a retired pastor who began noticing that his former congregation was sliding away from orthodoxy. The pastor saw this as his fault, noting the one thing he thought he did most poorly as a pastor. The pastor stated, in two sentences, his great failure as a pastor: "I always told people what to believe. My great mistake is that I never clearly taught my people what NOT to believe."

Pastor Kevin Miller writes:

When I was a kid, Saturday mornings were chore day. Often my dad would say, "C'mon kid," and I'd hop in the station wagon, and we would drive down the street to Hooper Wolfe's hardware store. Hooper Wolfe's had an old wood door, painted white—except where the paint was worn off near the handle. You walked in, and you could hardly move. There were two narrow aisles. The counters were filled with merchandise, shelves were overflowing, and stuff was hanging from the ceiling. You'd think, No way am I going to find anything in here.

But you didn't need to. As soon as you walked in, Clarence from behind the counter would say, "Help you today?" My dad would say something like, "I want to hang a light out back."

Clarence would come out from behind the counter and ask questions. "Where you going to hang it? Over the patio? Well then"—and he would start rummaging through shelves until he pulled off just the right light—"you want a light like this. And don't use these bolts here; they're good for indoor stuff, but for outdoor, you want something galvanized."

"Your wall is brick, isn't it?" Clarence asked. (Even though our town was small, I was impressed he knew what our house was made of.) "Well, to run the conduit through there, you want a masonry drill bit at least ¾ of an inch. If we don't have that in stock, you can get one over at Miller's Lumberyard." Then Clarence would pull a flat carpenter's pencil off his ear and get out a little piece of paper and sketch it all out. "The conduit goes here … and make sure you don't mount the light too close to the soffit."

Today, when I have a project on Saturday, I head to Home Depot. Unlike Hooper Wolfe's, where you had to parallel park on the street, there's an ocean of parking. And inside, Home Depot is huge. The ceilings are 30 feet high. Home Depot has forty times the inventory of Hooper Wolfe's. It all looks great under bright, argon lights.

There is a guy in an orange apron—a block away. If you run him down, he's likely to say, "Sorry. I usually work in paints. I'm just covering in electrical because someone called in sick." So you're pretty much on your own.

A similar thing has happened in the American church. We have programs that are amazing, with Disney-level quality and technological sophistication. But something's missing: Clarence. We all need a Clarence, someone who knows more than we do and who will guide us to grow in Christ.

Throughout the Bible this is the primary way faith has been passed on. Moses trains Joshua in how to lead; Eli trains Samuel in how to pray; Jesus teaches the apostles; Timothy's grandmother Lois trains up her daughter Eunice, who trains up her son Timothy; Paul calls Titus his "son" in the faith. When it comes to helping people grow into spiritual maturity, the Bible gives us "the Clarence Principle": the older teach the younger, and those more mature in the faith guide those who are newer in the faith.

Dogs do some things better than humans. For one thing, most dogs have a far better sense of smell than we do, and there is a physical reason for that. The sinuses of humans have about 6 million receptor cells that can sense the chemical odors afloat in the air. By contrast, the average beagle has more than 300 million receptor cells in its snout—that's 50 times more cells for smells. The dominant sense through which most humans perceive their world is their eyesight, but the dominant sense through which dogs perceive their world is through their nose. A human can walk down the sidewalk and perhaps perceive a faint aroma of flowers upwind a few feet ahead. A dog walking the same sidewalk perceives as well the traces of every dog or animal that has been in the area.

Just as dogs and humans have different levels of ability to perceive smells, people have differences in their ability to perceive other things. Some people hear much better than others. Some people have greater ability to perceive emotions in others. Some have greater ability intellectually to perceive ideas as they read.

Most important of all, some people have greater ability to perceive things spiritually and morally because they have devoted themselves to prayer and to learning from the Bible and applying it to their lives and their world. Others have greater spiritual discernment because of the spiritual gifts and callings that God has placed on them. For many reasons, all people do not have the same ability to perceive.