Confessions of a 50-year-old Youth Guy

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 2 Timothy 4:7

My chosen sport in high school was cross-country track, by a process of elimination; it required no hand-eye coordination or understanding of a playbook, and little upper-body strength. But being 30 pounds leaner in those days, running a long way came easily for me. With practice, I learned how to pace myself for a three-mile competitive race up and down the hills of a golf course, pushing myself to stay near the front of the pack while saving something for a strong finish. I tried to pay attention to what my body was telling me, and adjust accordingly; some races I was surprised how great I felt, how easily I could pass other guys and charge up a long slope without getting tired, so I pushed a little harder to catch the leaders...while other days my lungs started to burn and my legs got heavy, which meant I had over-reached, and would need to watch some of those other runners re-pass me while I slowed to a jog for a while so that I could make it to the finish line and contribute something to our total team score.

My average race times continued to improve over those three years as I got older and taller, and my natural top sustainable speed brought me success without being particularly driven or disciplined. However, when I tried out for the cross-country team at St. Olaf, I quickly discovered that those guys were way out of my league, and I moved on. I trained for a few six-mile road races later, but gave it up for good in my early 30’s, finding the length of a basketball court to be about as far as I cared to run anymore.

And now, as of May 1, this Youth Guy is 50 years old, and I am definitely paying attention to what my body is telling me. I’m still playing pick-up basketball three mornings a week at the health club, but I take ibuprofen beforehand to ease the joint soreness. I still host youth group overnight lock-ins, but only with the understanding that kids go to sleep at 2 am so the adults can get 7 hours of rest, too. And I’ve had to start wearing reading glasses, which has allowed me to better see the increasing gray hairs.

Fifty seems like a poetic time to measure my progress; with four grandparents who lived into their 90’s, I have reason to hope I am only at the half-way point of my race on this earth. So, am I on track to accomplish what God may have wanted me to contribute to the team score? Am I bearing enough fruit? Am I keeping up? Should I be breathing harder? Am I still young enough to be effective in youth ministry? Although my career in the parish continues to feed my soul, should I be writing for a larger audience? Am I using all of my gifts to their best advantage? And what would I have to give up to make that happen? As I practice Faith in Daily Life, am I chasing appropriate goals in the name of Christ?

While I listen for God’s answers to those questions, I continue to be, at heart, a long-distance runner in my approach to relationships—with Nancy, three children, individual Gethsemane youth and parents, co-workers and friends, all of which require sustained effort and discipline and paying attention to the results. As I get even older and grayer, may God make me wiser at running each of those races.