Reflections on Turning 30

Thirty is supposed to be this mystical magical moment of inexplicable maturity that hits as soon as the clock strikes midnight. That hasn’t happened for me. And well, it could be because my “midnight” actually occurred at 12:00 p.m. and, at the time of writing, I still have a couple of hours to go. And, then, well, it could also be because that mythical moment has permeated our society and flowered as truth rather than the ruinous weed that it is.

Turning 30 has put me in a most reflective frame of mind. Like many, I was under the false impression, for a long time, that turning 30 would automatically mature me, show off the wisdom I had gleaned over the years, and then I’d be ready to assume my role in society as a true adult.

What a farce.

When I think about that honestly and as a Christian, I want to smack myself for believing that nonsense. It’s purely a cultural problem that we have tagged 30 as that paranormal moment when life begins to slow down, we give up our independence, settle into marriage and careers, put the frivolous adolescent boy and girl mores behind us, and actually start thinking about “spiritual” and lasting things.

Tim McGraw’s song “In my next 30 years” comes to mind and though I happily squawked along to it at one time without really thinking about the words or meaning, I now see, quite evidently, the thoughtlessness of our society portrayed in the words. He counters the “mistakes” of his first thirty years with his hopeful plans for the second. (Now, that concept in and of itself is good and noble. It’s the reasoning behind it and the societal norms that I take issue with.)

We have permitted our children, from a very early age, to take on Little Lord Fauntleroy attitudes, instructing parents on what they will or will not do, ordering them around like men and maid servants to a point where the child becomes insulted and victimized when social boundaries and moral constraints are placed upon them or when parents actually try to stand up to them - - much too late. They enter life with no concept of how to behave, and this is because of what they believe about themselves and the others around them. We created a term called adolescence which was not in existence 50 years ago; it extends childhood into the 20’s and places absolutely no responsibilities on these ‘adolescent’ adult children. We pay for their cars, their college, and their weekend parties. We let them move back into our homes as adults while they squander what we’ve worked so hard for. We don’t understand why their lives are in shambles and why they can’t seem to get it together. We send them down the path to hell and destruction while self-righteously calling it love.

And then, we ignorantly expect them to straighten up as 30-year-olds.

Where’s the logic in all of this?

There is none. And, on this, my 30th year of life, as I look back and see what damaging lies our culture has fed us (lies that originate from the Father of Lies), I refuse to be sucked into that mode of thought. My children will learn loving boundaries, age-appropriate responsibilities, thoughtful discipline, and selfless action. They will hear it from Jeff and they will hear it from me, and prayerfully, they'll also see it modeled.

Turning 30 has not automatically matured me; indeed, I still have a long way to go. Becoming a mother (the most shocking and traumatic experience a selfish person could ever undergo) and taking on the God-given responsibilities of a little life solely dependent on me brought me into a greater awareness of my limits, my failings, as well as my desire to do what’s best for them.

It will cost me something. It will, and has been, a sacrifice of egotistical desires and pursuits. But, I can put those away for now, understanding that it’s temporary. Soon enough, my little ones will be old enough to pack their own bags, wipe their own bottoms, and fix their own snacks. And then when I’m home alone, there will be a world of opportunity awaiting me.

Until that day, I resolve to fulfill my commitment to Holy God, to my husband, and to my children. There is no magical mystical day awaiting me, beckoning me forward into adult life and duties. It’s been here. I’m thrust full in the throes of it and there’s no turning back. Failure is not an option. Three little lives depend on me. And turning 30 has only reminded me of that.

Oh, and P.S. I am fully aware that Christ's own ministry didn't begin until he was 30, but do you think Mary and Joseph let him, in his 20's, sit around all day playing games and frolicking with his buddies? I hardly think so. He was a carpenter. He worked.