Perhaps that is why the word has stayed with me.
Much of my writing over the past two years has been an attempt to make sense of turning sixty. The essays, the series on hope, the music I have written—they have all been part of the same pilgrimage. I have wrestled with time, change, loss, expectation, and the unsettling awareness that more of life is behind me than before me.
Septennium reflected on the rhythms of life. Vicissitude acknowledged the certainty of change. Ambivalence admitted that maturity often means learning to hold joy and sorrow in the same hand.
Today, on the occasion of my sixty-second birthday, I find myself somewhere different.
Not because every question has been answered. Not because every disappointment has faded. And certainly not because life has become easier.
Rather, because I have discovered a contentment that no longer depends on life's circumstances.
I have been taught by the Lord and His Scriptures to accept where I am- to look forward to the years ahead and not fear!
There is a serenity that comes only after weathering storms—not the naïve confidence that storms will never come again, but the quiet assurance that they no longer define the landscape. The tempests of turning sixty have passed. What remains is gratitude—for family, for friendship, for meaningful work, for music still waiting to be written, for faith that has deepened more than it has changed.
Like serein, this peace feels unexpected. It is gentle rather than dramatic, quiet rather than triumphant. It arrives not with fanfare but almost unnoticed, until one day you realize the anxious striving has given way to settled trust.
Perhaps this is one of the hidden gifts of growing older. Not certainty, but perspective. Not the absence of struggle, but the presence of peace.
Today, I have found serenity in serein.
A serenity!
Contentment, however, is not complacency. It is not the quiet surrender of someone who has stopped dreaming or serving. If anything, it has liberated me to embrace this season with renewed purpose. I still coach because there is another generation to encourage. I still write because there are truths worth sharing. I still publish music because the Lord continues to place melodies in my heart. I still care for my body because it remains a gift entrusted to me. These are no longer attempts to recapture yesterday, but grateful expressions of the life God has given me today. I have discovered that contentment does not diminish one's calling—it frees one to pursue it with joy, without fear, and without the need to prove anything.
Today, at sixty-two, I find myself overwhelmed not by what I have accomplished, but by the grace of God that has brought me here. His grace has sustained me through seasons of uncertainty, corrected me when I wandered, strengthened me when I was weary, and quietly reminded me that my life has always been held in His hands.
If there is serenity in me today, it is not because I have mastered life, but because I have come to trust more deeply the One who has mastered my days.
The evening rain still falls. It always will. But now I see it differently. It is no longer something to fear, but another gentle reminder that the God who has faithfully led me for sixty-two years will continue to lead me until I see Him face to face.
Today, I have found serenity in serein—and even more, I have found rest in the unfailing grace of God.
Song Links:
I'm really proud of my latest list of songs:
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