On Life’s Evening Sun Awaits

Life’s evening sun is sinking low, a few more days and I must go to meet the deeds that I have done where there will be no sinking sun. — Wm. M. Golden

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When I was young I listened to country music. The quote above is from the gospel song called A Beautiful Life and even as child not yet in my teens I could feel the pathos of it anytime I heard it. I have carried the refrain of that song with me for all of my life. I still love listening to the old gospel songs like this one, Precious Lord Take My Hand, Precious Memories, Angel Band and others. As a child they spoke deeply to me of days yet a long way off–as far as I knew–but of days I knew would come.

Now in my mid 60s and having a number of chronic illnesses–all determined to hasten my evening sun’s arrival–I find that I want to share some of the things I’ve learned and am still learning. Yet in doing so I find that I am in some ways like the giver of this oracle.

I like Agur son of Jakeh. He was a man who likely lived a long time but discovered that the longer he lived the less he really knew. I think he was man of profound faith but one who, when people saw him, came across as a Grumpy Old Introvert. People likely addressed him formally rather than with something like “hey Agur.” He listened more than he spoke but when he did speak people listened–and frequently reacted.

If they’d had pews back then he’d probably have sat on the back one. When his preacher was bringing the sermon he was probably staring out the window and the preacher probably thought he wasn’t paying any attention. However he could juggle the pressing matters in his life in the wide spaces between each word of the sermon and never lose track of the continuity of the message being brought.

Children probably shied away from him even when he smiled or waved. Adults generally ignored him because he wasn’t as interested in chariot races or whatever diversions were prevalent in his time as they. Rather, he was a man who simply observed life. He didn’t often offer his opinion outright but when asked for it he declared it passionately and with his whole being–probably sometimes offending the one who asked. Yet his answers were always given in gentleness with compassion for those who did seek him out.

He seemed also to be a man who still found that his God and his God’s creation held mysteries yet undiscovered. He asked rhetorical questions not for answers but just for the sake of the wonder of things. He also rambled a lot–switching thoughts midstream. Maybe that is a characteristic of Grumpy Old Introverts or one inherited from one’s ancestors. I think he would like to have meditated on that last point even.

In short, I like Agur son of Jakeh. Perhaps he carried a stern expression because of his disposition and his deep thoughts. I think he knew his God on a profound level and had something of an understanding of himself as well. The more one meditates on the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob–and in our age on the holy trinity of Father, Son and Holy Spirit and especially the majesty and splendor of the Son who, though dying on the cross to redeem man, was still able to keep the universe in check by the word of His mouth–the better the understanding one has of his own sinfulness and of the remarkable grace and mercy offered through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Oh! I think Agur son of Jakeh would have loved to live in our time just for the sake of pondering that last sentence. He would revel in the what was a mystery in his time that is revealed in ours. Maybe he would have embraced our technology or just have a passing interest in it but as one who knew his own evening sun would be sinking soon, it would be the mystery of the Word becoming flesh and dwelling among us and all of the other wonders of a redeeming Creator that would, in the end, be his comfort.

He may have been “stupid” (ESV) by his own estimation and he may not have learned wisdom but he knew in Whom he believed and that was enough for him.

Oh that I could be as “stupid” as Agur but attain to his stature as a man whose ramblings were so profound that they were recorded in God’s holy word.