Three years into our church plant, we have experienced incredible growth but we still have gaps. Our signage could use a spruce up and our earthenware chalice for communion has been cracked and glued back together. But our greatest need is not something we can easily add to an Amazon cart. We feel our need for silver saints.

Church planting tends to attract the young and fast-moving, which makes sense when you think of all those chairs that need folding and storage boxes that need loading. Even though I am but a year into my forties, I am among the older women in our church– which is worrisome, at least to me!

God, in his grace, has been allowing us to get to know an older congregation in our little corner of San Diego. As I sat in worship with them this morning while my husband was pulpit-filling for them, I felt a sense of safety and security that I did not even know I’ve been needing. The Spirit affirmed deep within my soul a truth that I espouse but haven’t been able to experience for quite some time: silver saints are a vital part of the body of Christ.

In fifteen minutes over coffee and cookies, God used his aged saints to minister to places in my heart that I didn’t even notice were in need. I caught a glimpse of resilient gospel friendships when Anne (who spent most of her life as a single woman translating the Bible in Papua New Guinea) told me that Mary (who lost her husband after a dozen years of fighting a degenerative disease) told me that God knew they needed each other. The smile that passed over their faces when they talked of how many hardships they had walked through together revealed a depth that our generation of surface-connections and online-acquaintances desperately needs to see.

A few moments later, Priscilla, the matriarch of these silver saints, tallying her years at 104, came to hug me hello. Her embrace was not a fleeting one. As we stood there, her arms locked around mine and mine around her, for longer than feels comfortable, I realized that while I might be physically bracing her, she was spiritually bracing me.

The Gift of Perspective

When I walked into the fellowship hall, my mind was quietly racked with worries about high school schedules and SATS and meal prep. A few minutes of hearing the stories of these precious silver saints offered perspective and much-needed proportion to my present.

Simply being in their presence, my heart was buoyed. If they survived parenting the teenaged years, there is a strong chance I will as well. If they weathered job loss and diagnoses and the death of loved ones and were still showing up to worship, our young congregation might do the same. As they sang “It is Well With My Soul,” it just hit different (as the teenagers say). Those venerable vessels have seen more bellows than I could imagine, but they are still afloat, by the grace of our great God.

Their eyesight may be shortening, but they lengthen ours. They offer us the long-term vision of those whose hearts are set on “the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God” (Hebrews 11:10). Their perspective helps offer a right sense of proportion to present cares. They offer both levity and gravity. Sitting around aged souls, SATS seem to carry less weight (levity). Yet, souls and salvation and alignment to God’s greater purposes matter more (gravity).

The Gift of Confidence

God enabled my husband to give an incredible sermon on Colossians, chapter one. During it he shared anecdotally about the fears and worries of raising teenagers. A precious silver saint walked up to him, pointed at him very directly, and proceeded to say with vibrating confidence, “G’Joe, God will take care of your boys. I am confident.” Tears welled in my eyes as I watched the encounter. We know that we know that we know that we know this is true, but hearing her velveteen, worn-in confidence in the Lord buttressed our souls.

I love how those whose knees might literally be weak serve to strengthen the knees of those who are spiritually weak-kneed (Hebrews 12:12-13). I love how those whose physical eyes might be straining teach us to keep lifting our spiritual gaze to the beginner and perfecter of our faith (Hebrews 12:1-3).

The young and the old provide beautiful bookends to the body of Christ: both offer significant gifts and also need specific, nuanced care. I long for the day when our little church is peppered with silver saints.