I’m the Same Age My Father Was When He Died:
Reflections on Living a Temporary Life

Martin Thielen

February 3, 2026

I recently turned sixty-nine. That’s how old my father was when he died. Given his massive heart attack in his mid-forties, he was lucky to make it that long. I still remember my brother’s phone call informing me about his death. He said, “I have to tell you something that you will only hear once in your life. Our father has died.”

These two realities (my current age and my father’s age when he died) have forced me to think about my own mortality. Obsessing about death is unhealthy. But occasionally reflecting on it can be a gift, as the following story illustrates.

Thirty-Eight Minutes to Live

A dramatic event occurred in the state of Hawaii back in 2018. Since I lived in Hawaii for six years, I found it especially engaging. At 8:07 a.m., on January 13, 2018, cell phones, radios, and televisions across the state received a warning message from the state emergency alert system. The message said, “Ballistic missile threat inbound to Hawaii. Seek immediate shelter. This is not a drill.”

Nuclear tensions with North Korea were elevated at that time. North Korea was engaging in provocative missile tests. In response, President Donald Trump angrily reminded Kim Jong Un (North Korea’s supreme leader) that “my big red (nuclear) button is bigger than yours.” Given this dangerous international threat, the people of Hawaii took this emergency warning seriously.

For the next thirty-eight minutes, mayhem reigned in the state. People called their spouses, children, and parents and said goodbye. People drove as fast as they could down the highway trying to get home in order to be with their families. People prayed. People sought emergency shelter. For thirty-eight minutes, thousands upon thousands of people in the state of Hawaii thought their lives were about to end. In their own ways people prepared for death.

Of course, it turned out to be a false alarm. And it was a horrific mistake, causing a lot of trauma and grief. But I can’t help but believe that, at least for some people, that false warning was a gift. It reminded people—in an extremely vivid way—that life is not forever. The clock is ticking. One day, probably before we expect it, we are going to die.

From time to time, we need to remember that “from dust we come and to dust we shall return.” For example, while writing this article (literally), I received an email directory of my high school class. It startled me to see that 27 percent of my classmates have already died.

Turning sixty-nine has reminded me that I, like everyone else, am living a temporary life. Given that reality, I’m trying my best to live out the following five life practices that I consider essential to living a good life. Your list may look different. But these five practices, in my experience, are the most helpful ways to live a temporary yet quality life. I commend them to you.

How to Live a Temporary Life

  1. Prioritize relationships. The director of the world’s longest study on happiness (at Harvard University) was once asked, “What was learned from this seventy-year-long study on happiness?” He replied, “We learned that the only thing that really matters in life are your relationships with other people.”

    At age sixty-nine, I completely concur with that conclusion. Therefore, more than ever before, I seek to prioritize my relationships with my wife, children, grandchildren, and friends. For example, last week I ate popcorn and watched KPop Demon Hunters with my grandkids, and it was a blast! Several days ago I gathered with my retired clergy group. Two weeks ago my wife and I hosted a dinner for a gang of long-term friends. And we are currently scheduling multiple visits to our home this year for family members, numerous stateside and international friends, and one of our former foreign exchange students. In short, family and friends matter most.

  1. Take care of your body. Author and educator Wayne Oates (now deceased) once said, “You can do nothing more spiritual than to maintain your own physical health. Your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit. You serve God well if you take care of your body as a means of worshipping God.”

    At this stage in life, I realize how important it is to care for my aging body. Therefore, getting regular exercise, adequate sleep, and eating a healthy diet are important values of mine. I realize that if we live long enough, physical decline is inevitable. Still, I seek to be as healthy as possible for as long as possible. Although my father died at age sixty-nine, my mother is now one hundred and one years old. Even though she’s dealing with numerous physical challenges, she still lives (mostly) independently. The best I can, I’d like to follow in her footsteps.

  1. Nurture your soul. Like most people, my spiritual life has evolved over the years. As a teenager, I found spiritual sustenance in conservative evangelicalism. Then, for a long time, I found life-giving spirituality in progressive Christianity. These days my soul is nurtured more by nontraditional faith than by orthodoxy. However, I still maintain a good bit of traditional spirituality, including a huge affinity for Jesus. I also maintain hope that when our physical lives come to an end, the life-giving animating Spirit of the universe will receive our core essence into the great mystery of universal connection and consciousness, whatever that looks like.

    Since my spiritual journey isn’t over, I’m sure my faith will continue to evolve. But wherever I find myself on the journey, spiritual values and practices will always be essential to me. For example, I’m an active member of two (faith-focused) small groups, I read a large and diverse swath of spiritual writings, and I practice daily journaling. And in spite of my frustrations with institutional religion, I’ve recently attended several church worship services.

  1. Find ways to make contributions. As a retired clergyperson, I no longer have a career in vocational ministry. But I still seek to serve others. For example, after retirement, I tried being a volunteer with SHIP (State Health Insurance Program), which helps people navigate the complicated path of setting up Medicare. However, it never felt like a good fit for me.

    So, after evaluating my passions and gifts, I decided to put my energies into a post-retirement writing ministry. It started with my (free) novel, An Inconvenient Loss of Faith. That led to the creation of Doubter’s Parish website. After that I began publishing in several other venues. In addition, I write religion columns and letters to the editor for my local newspaper, often concerning the (sometimes-controversial) intersection between faith and politics. I also interact with readers on a regular basis. I don’t overestimate the impact of this work. My writing contributions are modest. But they, along with other acts of service, bring great joy and meaning to my life.

  1. Live a life of gratitude. Happiness expert Dr. Sonja Lyubomirsky says that “the expression of gratitude is a kind of metastrategy for achieving happiness.” Nurturing a spirit of thanksgiving is an essential part of a well-lived and meaningful life. So now, more than ever, I seek to be a person of gratitude.

    For example, every day in my journal I jot down the (mostly simple) pleasures I’m grateful for like time with my grandchildren, conversation with my wife, a beautiful day, a cup of hot tea, lunch with a friend, an engaging film, or a good book I’m reading. This daily expression of gratitude is a crucial key to my overall life satisfaction and contentment. It also serves as the heart of my prayer life. Ann Lamott once said there are only two true prayers: “Help me, help me, help me”  and “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”  Although I have serious doubts about God’s intervention to help people, I have no doubt that prayers of gratitude have great value, and I pray them often.

More Than Enough

The Jewish Talmud says that over a lifetime a person should have a child, plant a tree, and write a book. I’m glad to have done all three. At age sixty-nine, I have few regrets. It’s mostly been a good ride. At this juncture on the journey, I feel grateful for the past and hopeful about the future, in spite of life’s temporal nature. These days, I’m working hard to prioritize my relationships, take care of my body, nurture my soul, make contributions to others, and live a life of gratitude. And it is more than enough.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

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Martin Thielen, a retired United Methodist minister, former megachurch pastor, and best-selling author, is the founder and author of  Doubter’s Parish.