I FEEL IT. Not just the early morning autumn chill but the late autumn of life. Like leaves so bravely once able to resist, l feel gravity’s pull to release my tenacious hold upon all things young, strong, and vibrant. Like gnarled branches, my skin and bones feel the weathered passing of time.

While still young and strong, I painted this tree and sky in a spontaneous rush to use up old house paint samples. So I moved quickly to paint the negative space (sky) over the positive space (branches), which gave it an ethereal, fade-in-and-out appearance.

I’ve always loved this picture because it surprised me to see the colors blend together into one living whole. The tree became part of the sky, and the sky a part of the tree. One gust of wintery wind through the last lingering amber leaves and frost-tipped branches wedded autumn with winter. The large boughs contrast the lace of delicate twigs.

Today, I turned to the last chapter of King Solomon’s book of Ecclesiastes, where the wisest of men says, “Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth.” Youth passes so quickly, and we find ourselves in the autumn months too soon. Like leaves, by some malevolent force beyond ourselves, we involuntarily let go of our youthful appearance, physical strength, earthly pleasures, and what we will be when we grow up.

Solomon so poetically warns us to seek our Creator before the following twelve descriptions come upon us: (Insights added from Matthew Henry’s Commentary)

Seek God before:

1. While the sun and the light, the moon and the stars are not darkened. “They look dim to old people, in consequence of the decay of their sight; their intellectual powers and faculties, which are as lights in the soul, are weakened; their understanding and memory fail them.”
2. And the clouds do not return after the rain. “When the weather is disposed to wet, no sooner has one cloud blown over than another succeeds it, so it is with old people when they have got free from one pain or ailment, they are seized with another.”
3. When the keepers of the house tremble. “The head, which is as the watch-tower, shakes, and the arms and hands… shake too, and grow feeble, upon every sudden approach and attack of danger… easily dispirited and discouraged.”
4. The strong men shall bow themselves. “The legs and thighs, which used to support the body, and bear its weight, bend, and cannot serve for traveling as they have done, but are soon tired. Old men… in their time strong men become weak and stoop for age.”
5. The grinders cease because they are few. “The teeth, with which we grind our meat… cease to do their part, because they are few. They are rotted and broken, and perhaps have been drawn because they ache… and this infirmity is the more considerable because the meat, not being well chewed… is not well digested.”
6. Those that look out of the windows are darkened. “The eyes wax dim… ordinarily the sight decays in old people as soon as any thing, and it is a mercy to them that art helps nature with spectacles.”
7. The doors are shut in the streets. “Old people keep within doors, and care not for going abroad to entertainments. The lips, the doors of the mouth, are shut in eating, because the teeth are gone.”
8. When one rises up at the sound of a bird. “Old people rise up at the voice of the bird. They have no sound sleep as young people have, but a little thing disturbs them… they cannot rest for coughing, and therefore rise up at cock-crowing… or they are apt to be jealous, and timorous, and full of care, which breaks their sleep and makes them rise early.”
9. All the daughters of music are brought low. “They have neither voice nor ear, can neither sing themselves nor take any pleasure… Old people grow hard of hearing, and unapt to distinguish sounds and voices.”
10. Also they are afraid of height; And of terrors in the way; “They are… afraid to go to the top of any high place, either because, for want of breath, they cannot reach it, or, their heads being giddy or their legs failing them… Fear is in the way; they can neither ride nor walk with their former boldness.”
11. When the almond-tree flourishes. “The old man’s hair has grown white, so that his head looks like an almond-tree in the blossom. The almond-tree blossoms before any other tree, and therefore fitly shows what haste old age makes in seizing upon men.”
12. The grasshopper is a burden and desire fails. “Old men can bear nothing; the lightest thing sits heavily upon them, both on their bodies and on their minds… Perhaps the grasshopper was some food… but even that lies heavily upon an old man’s stomach, and therefore desire fails, he has no appetite to his meat, neither shall he regard the desire of woman.”

What a dismal picture! Yet, that is Solomon’s poetic point—to seek our Creator while our eyes, ears, and minds remain sharp. Why give our youth, strength, and vitality to fleeting, momentary pursuits or pleasures without birthing a relationship with God?

Yet, I see redemption of old age in what we learn from our mistakes and failures (if we will still remember them). King Solomon most likely described old age from experience. His wisdom echoes through time to warn the young not to wait until the loss of all earthly things, including our minds.

I could personally lament all the ways I relate to Ecclesiastes 12. However, you have your own stories to know what Solomon and Matthew Henry wrote about only too well. Suffice it to say, we thank God for medications, glasses, hearing aids, sleep tabs, doctors, modern medicine, supplements, etc. 

Yet, when old age has already crept in, Paul encourages us with these words: “Therefore, we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal” (2Co 4:16-18).

Despite the shortened earth years left to us, a glorious eternal future awaits us! God promised us unimaginable joys and pleasures with indescribable happiness and peace. Years ago, when my husband took a new job selling insurance, he became discouraged over the slow financial return. His boss told him, “I just look at all the money that will come in over time, and mentally live there.”

Paul said the same thing when he wrote, If then you were raised with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ is, sitting at the right hand of God. Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth (Col 3:1-2).

The aged and deeply grooved trunk in my painting illustrates the passing of time. Unseen roots hold the tree fast until spring arrives with new life. Psalm 1 says the person who won’t take ungodly advice, stand with sinners, or sit with scorners is blessed. It goes on to commend the one who delights in God’s word day and night. Then it promises, “He shall be like a tree Planted by the rivers of water, That brings forth its fruit in its season, Whose leaf also shall not wither; And whatever he does shall prosper.” 

We, too, can send down unseen roots into streams of living water, or not. God says through Jeremiah, the “weeping prophet,” “My people have committed two sins: They have forsaken me, the spring of living water, and have dug their own cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water (Jer. 2:13). 

Like autumn leaves, we often cling desperately to our perceived earthly securities, only for them to be swept away with the first winter storm. Yet, just as the silvery frost on lifeless limbs hints at the coming beauty of snow, our heavenly Father enrobes us in the pure white righteousness of Christ.

Each season brings its own adornment. We watch in wonder as Creator dons the summer trees with the lushness of green foliage, only to set them on fire with autumn, blanket them in the silvery frost of winter, and adorn them with spring blossoms. 

Our life seasons also change, and we all grow old, notwithstanding an untimely death. So we do well to see the beauty that arrives with each season and see each day as a gift of grace. Although trees go on from season to season for hundreds of years, the psalmist says of us, “The days of our lives are seventy years; And if by reason of strength they are eighty years, Yet their boast is only labor and sorrow; For it is soon cut off, and we fly away… So teach us to number our days, That we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Psa. 90:10,12).

When we packed up our home before leaving Alaska, we had a garage sale to lighten our load. Some things were hard for me to let go of until I became keenly aware of a still, small voice say to my heart, “Let it go, dear one, let it go.” Through those loving words, the Lord gave this autumn leaf the trust to let go of treasured earthly possessions and securities. Since then, my life continues in a series of having to “let go.” Oh, but there is so much more to gain! Though now, much remains unseen, the day comes when my faith will become a visible eternal reality!

Not only does wisdom remember our Creator in the days of our youth, but certainly before we “fly away.” Oh, to gain a heart of wisdom from a long life while we patiently await our glorious and final transformation!