Geezer Mindset
Believe it or not, I remember a day when, driving from Red Bud, Illinois, to Marissa, Illinois, you would see little more than farm ground, blue sky and farmhouses. Today, on that same drive you can easily observe two exhaust plumes, or steam plumes - as I was corrected, rising into the skies from two coal-burning power plants, located approximately twelve miles apart, as the crow flies.
Why tell you this? Because I have recently been made aware that my stories are more aligned with a Geezer mindset than that of a Pastor. Something about, 'I remember a day when . . .' as an introduction to telling stories has become a warning to others, either to politely find other things to do or settle in for a history lesson from a person who has lived the ancient experience they are going to describe in great detail for you. Well, after pondering on that revelation for a while, it occurred to me to just gratefully and gracefully embrace it - for I have now apparently lived long enough to earn the moniker, 'Geezer'.
It wasn't that long ago (Also another way Geezer stories begin!) when I was the one certain whom the Geezer's were in our culture - and I hated, absolutely detested, getting into any sort of a prolonged discussion with them - especially if they were Pastors. I could just never politely convince them of their lack of understanding about the changing nature of ministry, religious study or work with congregants in the present age. All they ever wanted to do was tell me how it once was, back in the day when they walked uphill both ways in four feet of snow to get to the sanctuary for Sunday service or, worse yet, when they stood by Jesus and wrote down every word He said so the Gospels would be correctly recorded . . . in English, no less!
Oh, I smiled and listened as humbly and reverentially as I could, but most often I would walk away wondering on what block of creation the ice age had left them and what version of werbeH 1.0 they had studied in seminary. (Let those with eyes to see understand.) Trying to reason with them was to no avail and changing their minds was an even steeper climb. Geezer-hood is a hard nut to crack, mainly because the Geezer is confident they have the final answer the world needs to hear - and they have earned the right to announce that answer, regardless the proof otherwise.
Rolling that over in my mind this morning while I raked up the gumballs in our yard . . . which, by the way, are a pain in the patootie - e.v.e.r.y. year, (If you think God does not have a sense of humor, consider the sweet gum tree, which grows ever so quickly into a beautiful shade tree, but for the sake of the shade rewards the home owner with millions of gumballs annually!), anyway, I digress. Rolling that thought over in my mind this morning while I raked up the gumballs in our yard . . . I am so glad I retired so I can rake gumballs, shovel them, then pile them up for burning - because just the sheer act of burning them brings me great satisfaction for having to give over my plans for retirement to raking gumballs . . . okay, I digress, again. It is a Geezer thing.
Rolling that over in my mind this morning, it occurred to me that Geezers are what they are and do what they do precisely because they realize they are Geezers and understand that they don't have many days left on this earth. Consequently, to even consider the possibility that they may have done something the wrong way all these years, to have believed in something for decades before fully understanding the wider impact of it on a global basis, or clung to ancient methodologies for day-to-day living and practice, even in the face of developing technologies or evolving techniques, would just be too hard to admit or . . . deeper still, seem too much a waste of time and energy over their span of years. How much of their life was misspent if they are proven wrong? How deeply may they have hurt or misled others by their efforts over the years? What have their days, all of their days, been lived for in pursuit of their calling in life, if what they believed they knew was actually counterintuitive to the truth which is surfacing?
No wonder Geezers cling tenaciously to, 'I remember a day when . . .', because the emerging wisdom of these days is, quite often, too hard to bear. Its' implications are too heavy - and today's referendums on knowledge change and multiply at forty times the speed of lottery winners losing their winnings. At the end of the day, who is going to listen to 'the way it was' or 'the way I lived it' and find any value in it anyway? They will likely cast the storyteller onto the Geezer bus and move on, certain they have it right, just as I have so sadly done to others.
Well, now I am officially identified as a Geezer. The mantle is being passed on, the torch moves from one hand into the next, the race nears its end.
I pray to remember this when someone offers to enlighten me on the evolving generation of which we are a part. I pray to listen to their voices and hear their words, without off-handedly dismissing their intent as juvenile or, worse yet, not worthy of my care. I pray to have a heart which recognizes in others the Divinity blessing humanity I pray they observe in me, not because I have to, but because this is what the Christ of my faith has taught me.
Come to think of it, Jesus listened to Pontius Pilate and answered his questions. Jesus listened to Annas and Caiaphas make their point at His expense and answered them honestly, faithfully. In the same way, He listens to you and me, not needing to judge us for our words or our actions, for our words and actions judge us as we are. Rather, He listens to us as He listens to all, Geezers included, and responds in teaching, healing, feeding, serving and, finally, forgiveness.
Maybe that is the paradigm and identity most to be honored - and for which I would like to be remembered: To be the old Geezer who knew enough to follow Jesus with all his heart, with all his strength, with all his mind, and with all his soul. This old Geezer may not always be right, but may it be said of me by the young among us, "I remember when . . . I felt down and the old Geezer sat with me, I was hungry and the old Geezer fed me, I was thirsty and the old Geezer gave me a drink, I was threadbare in the cold and the old Geezer gave me his clothes, I was a stranger and the old Geezer welcomed me, I was sick and the old Geezer took care of me, I was in prison and the old Geezer visited me.'
That is my story for today and I am sticking with it. However it is you perceive me, Geezer, Pastor, Friend, Family, Neighbor, may you always see in me what I see in you - God - and from there grant me forgiveness for my long stories and self-certainty.
I remember a day when that was just enough, just enough . . . said the Geezer, and it is true.
Something to ponder on the journey.
