The Glory of Getting Old
One of the opening questions from today’s talk has stayed with me:
Which stage of life do we think of as our glory years?
And even more confronting — would any of us say our best years will be our old age?
So much of our instinct is to associate strength, productivity, and significance with youth. Yet Proverbs offers a very different picture. In God’s providence, ageing is not a loss to be feared but a gift to be received.
Proverbs 16:31 tells us that “grey hair is a crown of splendour; it is attained in the way of righteousness.” That idea is echoed again in 17:6, forming a kind of bracket around this passage. What sits in between is a weaving together of ageing, relationships, character, households, and the sovereignty of God.
Rather than reading this section as a neat sequence, it was suggested we think of Proverbs more like a web — strands layered over one another, forming meaning through connection. Old age, character, family life, integrity, and trust in God are all intertwined.
What stood out to me was this central idea: the splendour of old age is found in righteous relationships.
Righteousness in Proverbs isn’t abstract or performative. It’s built slowly — through character, through patience and self-control, through integrity, and through a deepening trust in God’s sovereignty. It’s formed in the household, over time, in ordinary faithfulness.
There was a beautiful thread running from Proverbs 16:21, which speaks about safeguarding righteousness in relationships, through to 17:6, where children become a crown to their parents. The image is one of long obedience: relationships nurtured in earlier years becoming a source of joy, care, and honour later on.
Broughton Knox’s words were quoted, and they felt especially fitting here:
“The establishment and deepening of personal relationships is the true objective of human activity, and the basis of human happiness… enjoyment is deepened when it is shared.”
Old age is glorious, not because life gets easier, but because it has the potential to carry the greatest depth and breadth of relationship — the very thing we were created for.
There is, of course, a place for solitude. But without relationships, we slowly come apart — mentally, emotionally, socially, even physically. Wisdom, then, has a lot to do with who we invest in over time. We think carefully about money, skills, careers, and achievements. How often do we think with the same intentionality about the relationships God has given us — especially the difficult ones?
Proverbs 16:32 reframes strength in a way that feels deeply countercultural:
“Better a patient person than a warrior, one with self-control than one who takes a city.”
Patience, self-control, integrity, honesty — these are easy to admire and far harder to live, particularly in earlier seasons of life. There was a wry observation that many of our younger priorities eventually give way to something quieter and truer. Or, as it was put rather bluntly, “The only reason I’m old and wise now is because God kept me when I was young and dumb.”
That line stayed with me — not just for its humour, but for its humility. It points to the gift older generations are meant to be within the life of the church. The young need the wise — not just as examples, but as mentors and witnesses to God’s faithfulness over time. Intergenerational ministry isn’t optional; it’s essential. The church cannot afford to lose that chain of wisdom.
Running beneath all of this is a deep emphasis on God’s sovereignty. Proverbs 16:33 and 17:3 remind us that outcomes, refinement, and endurance ultimately rest with the Lord. We don’t control how long we will have health, wealth, or even relationships. If we didn’t know the God revealed in Jesus, this would be terrifying. But because of grace, we can trust that even loss and limitation are not meaningless — they are part of God’s refining work.
Proverbs 17:3 uses the image of refining metal — testing its strength so it can bear weight. In the same way, our faith is refined through life’s circumstances so that we learn to depend less on our own strength and more on Christ’s.
This raised some important questions for me: How is the Lord refining me as I age? Am I becoming more open to dependence — on God, and on others — rather than more guarded?
Family was spoken of as the first place this refining love should be experienced. Not perfect families, but households that function as stable havens — places of peace that prepare us to face the world. This doesn’t mean conflict is avoided, it can mean that it’s engaged with well so that truth can be spoken in love. Our homes, at their best, offer a glimpse of God’s good intentions, becoming a quiet witness to the gospel as they unfold over time.
Wisdom, it seems, is not about resisting age, loss, or limitation. It’s about receiving them — and allowing God to use them to deepen love, faithfulness, and trust.
Perhaps the glory of getting old is not found in what we retain, but in what we’ve learned to depend on — and who we’ve learned to love along the way.
