I recently turned 64 years young. When I first heard the Beatles sing “When I’m Sixty-Four,” 64 sounded impossibly old. It belonged to people who tended gardens, took Sunday drives, and had trouble remembering where they put things. I have spent the past two hours searching for my keys. Apparently, the Beatles were singing about me.
The song is playful, but beneath the humor is a tender question: “Will you still need me, will you still feed me?” When I was younger, I heard that as a funny line about growing old together. At 64, it sounds different. The real question is not about food. It is about love. Will you still want me when I am older? Will I still matter when I am no longer the person I used to be? Will there still be a place for me? I suspect most of us wonder about that, even if we never say it aloud.
When I was young, I assumed a 64-year-old had life figured out. He knew where he had been, where he was going, and certainly where he had left his keys. I can now report that this is not necessarily true. At 64, I have accumulated experience, memories, and more guitars than I once thought I needed. I have also accumulated reading glasses, occasional aches, and a growing appreciation for restaurants where I can actually hear the conversation.
Some things have changed. The face in the mirror is older. Time moves faster. The years that once seemed endless now feel precious. But I do not feel finished. In some ways, I feel more curious than ever. For nearly 40 years, much of my identity came from medicine. I looked through a microscope, diagnosed disease, taught residents, and carried the responsibility of giving doctors and patients the right answer. It was meaningful work, and I remain grateful that God allowed me to do it.
Then retirement arrived. I wondered whether leaving my profession would make life smaller. Instead, my days filled with things I had postponed, things I had forgotten I loved, and things I never expected to be doing at 64. I am writing. I am making videos. I am playing guitar and recording music. I am learning technology that did not exist when I began practicing medicine. Some days I create more before lunch than I once thought possible in a week.
Retirement has not felt like disappearing. It has felt like changing instruments while the song continues. Of course, life is not only projects and music. I have been blessed with a wife who has walked beside me through the demanding years of building careers, raising children, and creating a home. Our daughter is building a life and career of her own. Our son continues to teach me that love is not measured by achievement, speed, or independence. At 64, family feels less like something I built and more like something God graciously gave me.
The Beatles wondered whether love would survive growing older. I have learned that real love does more than survive. It changes. It becomes less concerned with romance as a feeling and more concerned with presence, patience, forgiveness, and staying. That question from the song remains surprisingly relevant.
After retirement, it is easy to wonder whether the world still needs you. The phone rings less often. Decisions that once required your opinion are now made without you. A title that took decades to earn can disappear from daily life almost overnight. But perhaps “Am I still needed?” is not the best question. The better question may be, “Lord, how do You want to use me now?”
Once again, Scripture gives us the answer:
They still bear fruit in old age; they are ever full of sap and green.
Psalm 92:14 (ESV)
I like that verse, although I am not quite ready to place myself in the “old age” category. Let us call 64 an extended middle age with a better perspective. The promise is not that we will remain young. We will not. The promise is that growing older does not make us useless to God. There is still fruit to bear. Perhaps it will be a different fruit. I may no longer serve God in the same ways I did at 40 or 50. That is all right. God is not limited to one season of our lives, and He is not impressed by the titles we sometimes mistake for our identity.
So what is it like to be 64? It is humbling. It is funny. It is occasionally uncomfortable. It is also a gift. I know more clearly that time is limited, but I also understand more deeply that time is not mine to waste. There are still songs to play, words to write, places to see, people to love, and truths worth sharing.
When I was young, 64 sounded like the final verse. Now that I am here, I know better.
It may only be the beginning of the second chorus.
Love and trust in the Lord; seek His will in your life.
#faith #trustinggod #christianity #jesuschrist #bible #seekinggodswill #truth #sanctification #godisincontrol #godhearsourprayers #salvation #providenceofGod #wheni’m64 #Psalm92:14
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When you were younger, what age sounded “old” to you? If you have reached that age, was it anything like you imagined—or did life surprise you? I would love to hear your reflections.