September 23, 2016 (Friday)
There’s something about birthdays that call for attention.
We may try to ignore them, but they keep coming, year after year. At least that’s the case up to now. One’s birthday is a special day.
That’s why we have Christmas, to celebrate the birth of Christ, even though there is no direct command or even a suggestion in the Bible that we should observe the birthday of Jesus. We do it anyway. That’s what we do. We celebrate birthdays.
Tomorrow will be my 85th birthday. Almost everyone in my family is coming to see me, and they are even bringing the lunch. We will celebrate the day together. On Sunday the Bethel Baptist Church of Ingleside, where I preach each Sunday, will have a birthday dinner for me. It’s a surprise. But when the announcement of a dinner after church was made, I got nosy and asked what it was about.
Facebook will automatically notify everyone that it is my birthday, even though they won’t let me use the name, “Fake,” as my identity. My facebook name is Charles Forest (Forest is my middle name).
As the saying goes, “If I had known I would live so long, I would have taken better care of myself.”
And while I’m telling old jokes, I may as well throw in this one: “I was born at home because I wanted to be close to my mother.” (Sounds like Rodney Dangerfield).
My generation is gradually passing from the scene, as each of us completes his turn at bat. A few hit a home run, some got a base hit, hopefully only a few struck out. I’ll be satisfied to slide safely into home.
The New International Version of the Bible translates Psalm 90:10 this way: “Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength endures..” How about 85? I read a few weeks ago that “90 is the new 85,” so who knows? I may be able to celebrate the “new 85” one of these days. It’s all in the Lord’s hands, so I don’t have to worry about it at all.