Recently, I was having a conversation with a friend in which the term Erectile Dysfunction was mentioned. [insert dramatic pause]

I got your attention, didn’t I? This isn’t clickbait, I promise. Somehow the phrase E.D. made it into our discussion and within minutes ads were being pushed to my social media feed and YouTube page. Dozens of pharmacological promises and testimonials of new-age fertility were shouting at me. At first, I was annoyed by the blatant intrusion into a conversation (that honestly had nothing to do with E.D.). But no one likes a voyeur—even the digital kind. After the requisite complaining about Big Brother and why the Amish are the ones who have it good, it occurred to me what I was most incensed about. What upset me was the message these pharmaceutical companies were peddling.

Stay young. Stay virile. Don’t ever get old.

As someone who is gently used (almost 50), but feels like a spry 42, I don’t like anyone, especially some no-face company, telling me that getting old is bad. This may be an unpopular opinion, but getting old(er) is awesome! Sure, it’s taking longer to get out of a chair. Yes, my knees hurt. Do I have to carry Walgreen’s 1.75 readers around with me everywhere? I do. Do I have hair growing in strange places? None of your business! Besides the comical and more obvious deficits of old age, I say so far, so good!

Why, you ask? First, I think that most of my really bad decisions are behind me. The kinks of marriage (mostly) have been worked out in our 25-year journey together. Friendships are richer. My frailties and insecurities don’t quite have the same hold on me as when I was 24 or 34 or 44. I’ve had 35 years to make spiritual war on my people-pleasing, addiction to applause, and fear of conflict. My walk with God feels richer, more real. As I get older, Jesus just seems bigger than he was previously. Clearly, he isn’t getting bigger. Perhaps, I’m just learning to get smaller and see him for who he really is—good, gracious, patient, generous. All of the above, and more.

Let me add this small addendum: hanging out with old(er) people makes me better! They are wise. Well, not all of them. There are plenty of gray-headed fools. But there are lots of winsome and wise men and women in their 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s who just speak and pearls fall out of their mouths. They are extravagantly kind. Generous. Hopeful about the future. Many have a lifetime of pain and trauma that have taught them one singular truth: Jesus is always enough.

I like these old people. I want to be one of them.