I always thought the idea of a “midlife crisis” was made up. In my youthful imagination, it was just a contrived excuse by middle-aged (probably) men to buy a sports car, quit their jobs, or do something really stupid to ruin their lives. Good grief, I thought, there’s nothing about those years that can be blamed for such reckless behavior!
Then I became middle-aged.
I still don’t believe there’s any excuse for reckless behavior. Nor am I saying that everyone who reaches the vague “age of middle” as if we have any idea when the middle of our life is, inevitably enters a season of crisis. I have no plans to quit my job, ruin my life, or buy a sports car (although I have been fantasizing lately about the new Ford Bronco…). Yet I’ve been humbled by my own more recent bit of angst and small, strange, sense of restlessness.
Everything Is Changing And Staying The Same
I am not “in crisis” (at least I don’t think I am!), but I do feel this strange season of everything changing and everything staying the same, all at the same time. I love my wife, I love my kids, I love my job, I love where we live. I love my life. I am not in crisis. Even so, it feels like a helpful reminder that the risk is there, and any of us could be susceptible.
The Restlessness Of Sameness
It’s weird being at “mid-life.” On the one hand, everything is the same. I’ve been married to the same woman for 22 years, I’ve been in the same job and lived in the same city for 19 years, I haven’t had a significant job change in 8 years, and I’ve been parents to David and Eden for 17 and 15 years.
When you’re young, it feels like everything is always moving you to the next stage. When you’re in high school, you’re focused on whatever comes after; if it’s college then you’re thinking about your career; when you’re starting your career you imagine that next promotion; and at some point maybe, you imagine getting married. If you get married, at some point you probably start thinking about kids and if you have kids, then you look forward to them sleeping through the night, then getting out of diapers, then starting school. On and on it goes.
When you’re young, life feels like a state of perpetual motion, always pushing you to the next thing, and every few years or so, you might experience a significant change. Life changes too fast to grow restless.
At 44, hopefully I’ve gained some wisdom and life experience, but in a lot of ways my life looks a lot like it did when I was 34. And even though a significant change is coming with the kids, as I think about 54 (or even 64), there’s a lot I imagine will still feel like today. Maybe I’m wrong about that, but I can now understand how some people grow restless. Can I do the same things and live the same basic life contentedly for the next 20-30 years?
The Angst Of Significant Change
On the other hand, I feel like everything’s changing. We recently confessed to our kids that we feel like rookies again. Just when we naively thought we were getting decent at this parenting thing, we enter this new stage that feels very much unlike any of the previous stages. I don’t just mean those often feared “teenage years.” We love parenting our teenagers. It’s more about the way it feels—as if we’re in a continual state of transition. They’re not kids anymore, but they’re not adults either. How do we do this?
Kelly and I have a senior in high school, and we’ve been looking at colleges with him. We keep using phrases like “when you move out next year” or “we’ll have time for that when the kids are gone.” These phrases come out with a mingled sense of dread, fear of messing it up, and pressure to hold on to every last minute we have left. It often feels like we have about five minutes left with what’s been our core definition of family for more than 17 years. That level of change is disorienting.
It’s accompanied by excitement, for sure, which then makes us feel guilty. We’re not at all in a hurry for our kids to leave, but there is this strange sense of anticipation of how much fun we’re going to have together. Kelly is the best person I know, and there is no one I’d rather grow old with. Even so, that also is mingled with a bit of angst. It feels a little like “going back” to the way things were decades ago when we first got married, but we’re not those same people anymore. What’s it going to be like? What are we going to do with all that time? What are we going to talk about…for maybe the next 40 years?
Flourishing In This Weird Middle
What does it look like, then, to flourish in this weird middle? I have no idea—ask someone older! Even as I write, it feels a bit disingenuous to offer some encouragement, as if we’ve got this figured out. This isn’t something we’re looking back on with wisdom. This is something we’re in the middle of, just trying to do our best. Nevertheless, here are a few things that have helped us so far.
Keep An Eye On Who You’re Becoming
First, keep an eye on who you’re becoming. This is always important, for we are all in the process of “becoming” at every stage of life. Yet in this stage, it seems like we actually get a glimpse of who we are becoming, like a sneak peek into our own futures. There’s often a growing sense of self-awareness and comfortableness in our own skin. This is a gift, yet at the same time, it also feels like the temptation toward complacency or calcification is right there with it. Almost like: I see who I’m becoming. I don’t love everything I see. But, oh well, it’s just who I am. It’s tempting to give up a little and stop growing.
One of my favorite verses, especially as a pastor but it’s applicable to all of us, is 1 Timothy 4:16. Pay close attention to your life and your teaching; persevere in these things, for in doing this you will save both yourself and your hearers. I imagine the older Paul, as he shares this wisdom with the young Timothy, recognizing the incredible need to persevere. He understands the temptation to throw in the towel. Don’t give up paying close attention to who you are becoming.
Embrace The Moment Without Clinging To It
Second, embrace the moment without clinging to it. This has been hard for me. There are times we think to ourselves, this could be our last time as a family (at least in the way our family looks today) doing this or doing that—going on this trip or enjoying this kind of opportunity. That line of thinking can unintentionally pile up all this unintended pressure on us and our kids. Well, it better be great! We’d better enjoy it! It could be our last! We’ve found this internal dialogue to be pretty unhelpful at best and a recipe for disaster at worst. It’s too much pressure. Clinging to what was instead of embracing what is doesn’t help anybody.
Although these next few years may be filled with unforeseen challenges and we once again feel like rookies at life, it’s the season we’re now in. We’ve committed as a family to make the most of it without clinging desperately to it. We don’t know what to expect. We don’t know how to plan. We don’t know what it looks like to give our kids the right amount of independence and intimate presence. We don’t know how to help them, encourage them, or pray for them. (Wow, no wonder I feel a little angsty!) Rather than clinging to some illusion that’s already past, we’re going to love them today, and do our best to love them tomorrow. We’ll patiently figure it out as we go, all the while trusting that God knows, and that our children and our lives belong to him anyway.
In Ecclesiastes 3:1 we read: There is an occasion for everything, and a time for every activity under heaven…. The author then gives this long list of contrasting changes. For example, in 3:5-7 he writes: a time to embrace and a time to avoid embracing; a time to search and a time to count as lost; a time to keep and a time to throw away; a time to tear and a time to sew; a time to be silent and a time to speak….
There’s a time to enjoy the moment and relish every second for what it is. And a time that moment will inevitably pass, with open hands, prayerful hearts, and a few healthy tears. Embrace the moment without clinging to it.
Be faithful in the long haul
Finally, be faithful in the long haul. I was 24 when I first read Eugene Peterson’s brilliant little book A Long Obedience in the Same Direction. I loved it back then but as I’ve continued to age, that phrase has grown more and more important to me. What a summary of a life faithful through the decades: a long obedience in the same direction. What does it look like to follow Jesus over a lifetime? It looks like one faithful step followed by another.
This middle-aged season of life doesn’t come with a lot of inherent changes, especially not like when we were young. The temptation in the midst of so much sameness is restlessness, boredom, and the potential to force a rash or even unhealthy change. Sadly, at this age, people do sometimes ruin their lives, not necessarily because they’re so wicked, but simply because they’ve grown so restless.
Galatians 6:7-9 says: Don’t be deceived: God is not mocked. For whatever a person sows he will also reap, because the one who sows to his flesh will reap destruction from the flesh, but the one who sows to the Spirit will reap eternal life from the Spirit. Let us not get tired of doing good, for we will reap at the proper time if we don’t give up.
Paul understands. Sometimes we get tired of doing good. That can happen at any age, but I do think there is something a little unique about the tiredness of mid-life that makes us susceptible. Instead, do the good today that you know to do today, and then wait to see what tomorrow brings. Stay faithful in your work, faithful in pursuing your spouse, faithful in parenting as best as you understand it right now, faithful in your friendships, faithful in healthy decisions, faithful in your pursuit of Jesus, faithful in the big things, and faithful in the small.
One of the gifts of middle-age is looking back and seeing how God has directed your steps thus far. So far so good. That motivates me to keep seeking his direction and praying for his will, rather than my own. Knowing I can’t foresee what the next stage will be like, I definitely want his wisdom and best for me. Let us prayerfully put one foot in front of the other, faithful for the long haul.
Making the most of the middle
Yes, this feels like new terrain for the Miller family. It’s annoying to be rookies again as we inhabit this “in between” stage of life. But we’re going to make the most of these middle years. We’re not going to live them perfectly, but we’re going to live them the best we can, entrusting our lives and our children’s lives to Jesus’ hands. He sees us. He knows us. And he loves us. If that’s true, even life in this weird middle can be filled with great joy.
