So a CrossPointer is telling me their story. It is a good story, compelling to say the least. It is a refreshing description of God’s grace. So, I am interested, deeply interested. And then toward the end of the narrative, they pointedly say, “And that is when I became an adult.”
“And that is when I became an adult.”
Interesting conclusion to a story of grace, isn’t it?
Their concluding comment triggered a day long personal examination for me.
I thought back to my high school days. Nope, too soon, I was nowhere near growing up then.
Then I thought about the year my parents divorced. I also considered my first family death. In between that time I moved out on my own. That was when I finally grew up. A few hours later, after thinking about some of my roommates, I thought otherwise.
Wait, I know. I became an adult the year I married Vonda. We were in our early 20s, on our own, and living in New Orleans. Yep, that is when I became an adult.
Then my firstborn arrived. That is when I finally grew up. By the day’s end, however, I wondered if I have yet matured into adulthood.
Adulthood is obviously not an age. Neither is it equivalent to one’s freedom. Adulthood is about maturity. The simplest measurement of maturity is the ability to delay immediate gratification.
The Apostle Paul expressed his maturity this way:
When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways.
1 Corinthians 13:11
So, what about you? When did you become an adult?