I really don’t care about your first-year-university 1500-word essay due in 10 days.
I just don’t.
I may care about you as a person and fellow believer, but my tolerance for your problems-of-a-twenty-year-old has, frankly, softened.
Now, I care far more about the effect that changing interest rates has had on your mortgage payments.
I care more about your teething, whinging offspring.
I care more about your trouble to conceive.
I care more about your in-laws visiting for a fortnight.
As I get older, the things I care about, pastorally, has shifted.
Now, I care about the things which align with my life stage.
Now, my concerns revolve around workplace relationships and squabbling siblings.
Now, my concerns revolve around unexpected car accidents and appliance breakdowns.
Now, my concerns revolve around aging parents and juggling the demands of a busy extracurricular calendar.
Now, I’m more concerned about rekindling romantic vacations and the stress of an inspection by your supervisor.
Most of all, I’m concerned about your relationship with Jesus.
But, the extent of my concern is contextually framed by my life stage.
I assume, as I get older, I’ll start being increasingly concerned about superannuation, dying parents and children’s future plans.
And, mirroring my concerns about university assignments, first cars and entry-level jobs, the midlife concerns will start to fall by the wayside.
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