Turning 60

And celebrating the good things God has given | Marvin Olasky

Illustration by Krieg Barrie

Old friends sat on their park bench like bookends. . . . Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a park bench quietly? How terribly strange to be seventy."

Simon and Garfunkel recorded that song in 1968, the year I entered college. To be 70 seemed terribly strange, but so did 60 or 50. Even 30 was a long way off.

So next month I hit 60. My philosopher friend Peter Kreeft, who is 73, says he still in many ways thinks he's 18. So do I. How terribly strange to be 60.

Strange but not terrible. I know that my Redeemer lives. And I don't feel it's the end of the world when tough times come either personally or societally.

My loving wife has asked how I'd like to celebrate. Since 60 is a number, I think in terms of other numbers. On the rare nights now when I can't sleep, I lie in bed and recite to myself Scripture, usually the 23rd Psalm, and that usually works. But two years ago I'd get up and, somewhat like King David desiring a census, count (and list on my laptop) places I've been.