On Mid-life and Basketball

Two and a half months ago I broke my foot.  A non-something, something fracture of the quboid.    

My neighbor had talked me into playing basketball.  I hadn’t played ball for maybe 10 years.  It felt great to be back on the court.  Mostly because of the guys I was playing with, though the bi-weekly run felt good too.  (Actually, it felt like I was dying and my lungs were turning inside-out on me for the first couple mornings I played.  Then it got better.)

Several weeks into playing I came down with a rebound and my right foot landed half on another guy’s foot and half on the floor.  Usually you want your whole foot to land in the same place.  The doctor checked it out; did some x-rays.  I learned the worst type of sprain you can have is when the ligaments actually pull away from the bone.  The second worst is when the ligaments are stretched so tight that instead of pulling away from the bone, they crack the bone they’re attached to.  That’s what happened to me.  It wasn’t serious.  But it has kept me off the court for the summer, not to mention off my feet for a couple weeks early on. 

Everywhere I went the walking boot and crutches gave me away.  Inevitably the curious commentary from others ensued…

“What happened to your foot?”

“You know, basketball at your age…”  (tongue-in-cheek, wink, wink, nudge with the elbow)

“Takes longer to heal the older you get.”

What do you say to these?  I’m not offended easily.  I do try to kill sarcasm when I can.  But you don’t want people, bless their hearts, to feel bad for trying to make light of an obviously trying event.  They don’t mean anything by their comments; literally, they don’t mean anything.  Often we, myself included, just don’t know what to say.

Well, then there came one that got me thinking.  And I’m thankful for it.  After explaining in as serious a tone as possible what had happened, the return remark came:  “Welcome to mid-life, Andy.”

I’m 37 years old.  I suppose, sociologically, I’m inching up on mid-life.  Wikipedia said the average life expectancy of an American male is 76 years.  My ethnic lineage is Dutch and in the Netherlands 79 years is the life span for men.  I guess that puts me at 77½ years?  Biblically I’m there or close to.  “The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty…” wrote Moses in Psalm 90:10a.

When I reflect back on my rich and full days-turned-years, I am not caught up in a “crisis” or an all-down-hill-from-here experience.  Rather, I’m amazed by how quickly they’ve flown by.  You are probably equally amazed.  Don’t the years bleed together?  The end of Psalm 90:10 says, “…yet [the years’] span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.” 

But the thing that really struck me though, and still strikes me now as I type, is the arrogance of assuming I’m nearing mid-life.  Maybe you’ve never thought of this.  I hadn’t.  But who says 38¾ is my mid-life (based on the average)?  Who says I fall within the mean?  Who’s numbering my days for me anyhow?

As I said, I’m 37.  I don’t know how old you are.  But divide your age in half and then add one year.  For me, that’s 18½.  Go ahead and do your own math…  What if that was your mid-life?  What if you or I are into our twilight years; have been for three or four years now, and we haven’t even known it?  Hmmm…  Scorecard changes a bit, huh?  Wanna reorder your bucket list?

A friend of mine had this happen just a month ago.  The ER doctor informed him in no uncertain terms that his mid-life was 32.  He lived about another four weeks.  His funeral is tomorrow.  A godly man who served God and this country well.

Amazing, isn’t it, how we so easily assume life upon ourselves.  Similarly amazing, isn’t it, that in this assumption we are prone to miss the God who gives all life.  Verse 11 in Moses’ psalm says, “Who considers the power of your anger, and your wrath according to the fear of you?”  Sure enough, we often go days without remembering the awesome fierceness of God and His equally fierce love for us…displayed especially in the person of Christ Jesus. 

If we drop back in Psalm 90 and are reminded of Moses’ intention, we learn that God has been a refuge or a “dwelling place” for His people (vs. 1).  We learn that God is infinite; “from everlasting to everlasting,” and these thousand years that stand before us as insurmountable pass as a single “yesterday” for Him (vs. 2-4).  And we learn that God is all-powerful and his holiness is best not ascended to by our own iniquitous attempts, for they are all laid bare and found as feeble “in the light of [His] presence” (vs. 5-8).  Context is helpful, huh?

I know I’ll forget.  I’m sure you will too.  But what if we tried to live each day with Psalm 90 in mind.  Moses must have, at least as best as we can tell.  Go ahead and read it for yourself if you have a Bible nearby.  Pray before you do.  Ask for a humble heart.  I promise, it’ll flatten for you the mid-life conspiracy and give rise to a praise and thanksgiving from deep within for each passing day as a gift from God.

Further, if Moses’ words become the words or your mouth too, listen to what you’ll find yourself saying…

“Teach me to number my days so I might deepen in wisdom.”  (vs. 12)

“Return, O LORD!  How long?”  (vs. 13)

Love this next one, word for word…

“Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days” (vs. 14)

Finally, you may utter even these…

“I am glad in these trials and hard seasons of life.  I’m beat up by sin all around me, but I rejoice for these years are gifts.”  (vs. 15)

“Show me your work and your good power.”  (vs. 16)

“Have favor on me; on us!  And may the work of these hands be fixed on eternities hallowed walls.”  (vs. 17)

Mid-life?  Shoot, it’s a new day; a gift from God.  Life has just begun!