When the future ain’t what it used to be
Blessing what we may not yet understand
Baseball Hall of Fame catcher Yogi Berra once stated, “The future ain’t what it used to be.” When we are young, the world is before us, and the possibilities seem endless. Then, one day, we wake up on what seems to be a normal day, and we realize that most of life is now behind us and the future just ain’t what it used to be. Sometimes, the things we thought would be forever suddenly and often without warning dissipate before our very eyes, and the future ain’t what it used to be.
Prior to 1870, those calling themselves the Kleine Gemeinde (Little Church) were experiencing stability and prosperity in Southern Russia. Then, the rules pertaining to the Mennonite colonies changed. What once seemed like a predictable future suddenly became uncertain, and people were likely thinking, “The future ain’t what it used to be.”
Now, nearly one hundred and fifty years after the migration from Russia to Manitoba, we look around at what is happening in our world, our country, and our churches, and maybe we are wondering what lies ahead because things do not appear to be quite as certain as they were in previous generations. It is indeed true that the future ain’t what it used to be. But that does not mean we are without hope. It may be as simple as recalibrating the lenses we are looking through.
When did I stop being young?
Last summer, I visited the church camp I grew up attending—first time back there in thirty years. Beulah Camp, located along the Saint John River, attracts well over a thousand people every year for its family camp week. It is the place where I committed my life to Christ, was baptized, and later ordained. Many of my former colleagues in ministry still attend. I was eager to see familiar faces and reconnect with those I had not seen in some time.
My expectations were not met. I walked around the camp looking at the faces I encountered and did not recognize anyone, nor was I recognized. I was a stranger in the place that had such a profound impact on my life. My analytical mind raced to understand what was happening when it suddenly dawned on me—I was focusing on the wrong faces. I was looking for people I knew, but I was focusing on those in their thirties and forties. Those I knew were now in their fifties and sixties. I consciously recalibrated my focus and suddenly realized my people had grey hair or no hair at all. In my mind, I was still mainstream, but the reality was I was further downstream than I was willing to concede. When did I stop being young?
Maybe I stopped being young when there were no more ceremonies to commemorate my maturing journey. Growing up, I had Sunday school and school graduations, and I knew I had made progress in life. There was a celebration around my baptism, church membership and ordination so I knew when I had a change of status. A ceremony was held for my marriage, and I knew things had changed relationally. Then, without warning, there were no more official ceremonies. Instead of being the subject of the ceremony, I became the one officiating at the ceremony. That’s when I think I stopped being considered young. And that’s okay.
I draw solace from some ancient Hebrew wisdom. Rabbis say after the ceremonies are over, life begins. They state that at age forty, you achieve understanding. At fifty, you are prepared to give wise counsel. At sixty, one is granted the respect befitting an elder. At seventy, one may be considered a sage. Finally, at age eighty, one is considered to have reached the status of heroic strength. Those events may not be officially commemorated, so maybe we don’t recognize the moment when we cross into a new life phase.
These transitions are different than a graduation ceremony. Transitioning from one maturity level to the next is the result of our life experiences—the trials, triumphs, tragedies and teachings of life. We can sometimes become so distracted by our normal life routines that we fail to recognize the transitions we have experienced. We find ourselves so fixated on maintaining what has always been that we fail to recognize what may be coming next.
Ministers becoming guardians
As the first temple was being built in the wilderness and the ministry guidelines were laid out, we see a revealing of God’s plan. The Book of Numbers states that priests would begin serving in the Tent of Meeting at age twenty-five and were permitted to serve for up to twenty-five years. Then, at age fifty, those experienced ministers were to “retire from their regular service and work no more” (Numbers 8:25). This did not mean they retired from service. It meant they were to shift their focus. Those experienced priests, proficient in the craft, capable ministers were to shift their focus to the next generation to “minister to their brothers in the tent of meeting by keeping guard”(Numbers 8:26 ESV).
This would have truly been a humbling step for a seasoned minister to take. Yet we see that it reflects something of the master plan of God for the unfolding of his will for generations and not just for a season. For it was not the work of ministry that was considered a pleasing sacrifice before the Lord but the “broken and contrite heart” (Psalm 51:17) of the minister. A humble heart enables a minister to adapt their focus from serving and ministering in the temporal to blessing what is emerging as the plan of God for future generations.
‘For unto us a child is born’
The Christmas story really begins with the angel telling Mary not to be afraid because she found favour with God. I wonder how many times those words came back to mind as this young woman prepared for the birth of the miracle child, Jesus. She and Joseph, her husband but not the father of her child, bring this new life into the world under adverse circumstances and then proceed to do all that the law requires them to do. This included taking their newborn to the temple to be presented before the priest.
On that day, amid all the uncertainties regarding how the parents and child would be received by the priest, the young couple stepped forward in obedience to God’s Word. The story recorded in Luke 2 states that there were two significant interactions that day that changed everything for young Mary. The interaction with an elderly righteous and devout man named Simeon and another with an elderly widow named Anna.
Photo by Pro Church Media on Unsplash
The Scriptures record that Simeon was “waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was on him” (Luke 2:25). Politically, Israel was under foreign rule and was not able to operate as a free and independent nation. Religiously, factions had arisen and brought discord among the people. Corruption and compromise flourish under such conditions, yet this righteous and devout man appears fiercely determined to look beyond the now-circumstances to see the hope of restoration for his people. He believed, by faith, that before the end of his life, he would indeed see the Christ—the Messiah.
Simeon, by the prompting of the Holy Spirit, recognized this baby as the promised Deliverer of Israel—the Anointed One. He blessed the child and the parents and spoke words over their lives. Simeon would never see the impact this child was to have on the world, for the baby would make no significant difference in the world Simeon knew. Simeon was faithful in taking a charge over Israel—being a watchman for what was to come. Simeon was a man of faith, and he blessed that which he may not have fully understood.
Then there was the woman, Anna, who was over eighty years old. She had reached the age of heroic strength, and she was indeed a woman of great power as it pertained to her worship and intercession for the people of Israel. As the young couple passed by her with the baby, she began speaking with confidence about the redemption of Israel. The child that she was so excited about would have little to no impact on the redemption of Israel within her remaining years. It would be thirty years before the Messiah stepped out into his public ministry. Anna, by the Spirit, blessed what would one day be and, in doing so, found fulfillment from her life devoted to worship and prayer.
Blessing what is yet to come
For over thirty years, I have been serving as a minister in various roles. My work has always been about living, reaching, gathering, and teaching. As a young minister, I had the luxury of seeing fruit from my labours. I’ve seen kids in my youth group grow up to become faithful men and women of God serving in the church. I was able to see unbelievers come to Christ, be discipled, get baptized, and go on to serve the Lord in faithfulness. I was part of some ministry start-ups that went on to have a positive impact on the local church and the community. Oh, the joys of being young in ministry. But the future ain’t what it used to be, and I think I am beginning to understand why—because that’s the way the Lord designed it to be.
The further we go in ministry and service unto the Lord, the more we will come to recognize that there is much more that is yet to come. Men and women of the Bible were commemorated for the fact that they served faithfully within their lifetime and then intentionally began to bless what was still yet to be (Hebrews 11:39–40). Men and women of faith plant seeds in faith that will only come to fruition after they have moved beyond the ability to reap that which they have sown.
Young Mary took the words spoken by Simeon and Anna and stored them up in her heart. The message of the angel that said “fear not” was complemented by the affirming words of a man of faith and a woman of prayer. Their words and actions that day sustained Mary for a generation as she served the Lord and watched over her son—the Promised One.
Jesus stepped out from the shadows in a powerful way. He taught and performed miracles like no one before, to the amazement of the multitudes. Repeatedly, he declared a simple message that the future ain’t what it used to be—that everything was changing for the better. And so it did in a most unexpectant way—through his death and resurrection.
I find it remarkable that following his resurrection, Jesus changed his focus. The switch was flipped, he transitioned from being the minister to being the guardian of the ministers. He said to the young men and women who followed him: “Now it’s your turn. Go, do the things I did. I’ll take up the position of being your Guardian—I’ll be with you always.”
My visit to Beulah Camp was not what I wanted it to be, but it was exactly what I needed at this stage in my life. My momentary lament that I was no longer as young as I still envisioned myself to be, was replaced by the longing to know how I could bless that which the Lord was about to do for the next generation and beyond. My faith is renewed with the understanding that my Spirit-directed words and actions today can greatly impact that which may only manifest years from now. I’ve come to realize that our mission does not fade over time—it shifts. Recognizing that shift and embracing it is surprisingly invigorating.
Lord, open my eyes to see what you are doing even when it is in its infancy. Grant me the courage to bless, by faith, that which is beyond my understanding with my words and actions. Lord, I am willing to lay down my own interests and preferences for the sake of the next generation’s ability to hear your Word and live it out with faithfulness. Lord, show me how I can contribute to the renewal of Your Church, the revival of Your People, and the advancement of Your Kingdom. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
