The Owl, the King, and the Call to Contribute
As I sit at my keyboard, an owl calls outside my window. The ferocious owls are a danger to pets, but they are also beautiful and majestic. I’ve always loved nature—camping, hiking, exploring conservatories. Now, moving into what some call the “golden years,” I find myself even more attuned to the subtle beauty of the surrounding desert.
This deep appreciation for creation parallels my deep appreciation for purpose. King David lived seventy years, a milestone I’m approaching. It was always the end zone for my working life.
Seeking a new role in my field, people will ask, “Why not retire?” The answer is an internal obligation to contribute. Yes, I do that through these devotionals and my books, but I also enjoy being depended upon and delivering results.
David, too, knew the value of hard work. From his youth, tending sheep, he had become accustomed to labor and survival (1 Samuel 16:11).
This work ethic resonates with me. At ten, I sought my first job. The 1970s oil embargo had sent gasoline prices soaring from around thirty cents to over a dollar a gallon in less than a decade (U.S. Energy Information Administration). Full-service gas stations, like where my stepfather worked, were struggling as self-serve became common.
An analytical kid, I saw an opportunity. People wouldn’t want to touch greasy pumps or use dirty restrooms. So, I visited dozens of gas stations, offering to sweep drives, clean pumps, wash windows, and scrub restrooms—anything to make customers willing to pay a few pennies more for a clean experience. Duke Fairchild gave me a chance, paying me five dollars an hour in 1970, a significant wage. I worked for him for five years.
This same work ethic characterized David. Yet, in his later years, his health failed, his eyesight dimmed. The king who desired to build God’s Temple was told his son, Solomon, must do it instead. David, a legendary hero and warrior, faced the unsettling reality of his diminishing capacity.
When Strength Fades and Doubts Creep In
For David, personal and political turmoil mirrored his physical decline. His oldest son, Adonijah, attempted to seize the throne, supported by David’s long-time general, Joab, and even the priest Abiathar. Though David appointed Solomon as promised to Bathsheba, I imagine he felt a mix of relief (knowing God’s promise of a perpetual throne, fulfilled in Jesus) and resentment at being “squeezed out.”
Today, laws prohibit age discrimination. Still, I wonder if employers question my “voracity” when they compare my resume to younger applicants, especially in a technical field like data science.
These personal struggles lead us to David’s prayer in Psalm 71, a psalm often attributed to his old age:
“In you, Lord, I have taken refuge; let me never be put to shame.” (Psalm 71:1, NIV)
This cry for refuge isn’t just a casual leaning on God, but a deep surrender. As Charles Spurgeon wrote, “Every day must we guard against every form of reliance upon an arm of flesh, and hourly hang our faith upon the ever faithful God. Not only on God must we rest, as a man stands on a rock, but in him must we trust, as a man hides in a cave.” ¹.
Being “in Christ” means more than familiarity or even conformity; it’s allowing Him to encompass you. It’s trusting Him as you trust the walls of a building in a storm, or as Leonidas trusted the canyon walls to contain the Persian army at Thermopylae.
The Narrow Gate: A Strategic Refuge
Recall the story of Thermopylae. In 480 BC, King Leonidas and his 300 Spartans faced the enormous Persian army, estimated at hundreds of thousands. Leonidas chose the narrow coastal pass of Thermopylae. This was their strategic advantage.
In that constricted space, the Persians could not deploy their vast numbers, and the disciplined Greeks held them off for two days. Though outflanked by a traitor, their sacrifice bought crucial time and showed the power of a few holding a narrow, strategic position against the many.
Jesus uses a similar metaphor for our spiritual lives: “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it” (Matthew 7:13–14).
Just as the narrow pass was Leonidas’s only hope against overwhelming odds, God’s narrow gate is the only way to true life. It’s not about arbitrary difficulty, but God’s strategic design to protect us from the deceptive “broad road” where many enter and which leads to destruction. This “narrowness” demands discipline and commitment, like that of the Spartans, but it also provides a unique refuge.
David, growing weak, chose this path. Instead of relying on his failing strength, or trusting his betraying family, commanders, or priests, he placed his full hope in God. It wasn’t about his worthiness, but about God’s divine character.
“In your righteousness, rescue me and deliver me; turn your ear to me and save me.” (Psalm 71:2, NIV)
David knew his own shortcomings. He remembered Nathan’s prophecy of the “sword never departing from his house” because of his sin with Uriah and Bathsheba. Yet, he held onto God’s promises, knowing God is holy and just. He didn’t devise his own scheme; he trusted God, drawing deeper into Him:
“Be my rock of refuge, to which I can always go; give the command to save me, for you are my rock and my fortress.” (Psalm 71:3, NIV)
Like Spurgeon said, it’s not just leaning on the rock, but going deep into it, like a cave—a place of hidden safety where adversaries cannot see you, just as David hid from Saul in the Cave of Engedi (1 Samuel 24:4). Being engulfed by His glory.
Praise Him When You’re Up, Praise Him When You’re Down
“Do not cast me away when I am old; do not forsake me when my strength is gone.” (Psalm 71:9, NIV)
Sometimes life feels like that, doesn’t it? After decades of giving your all to a company, you’re told, “Thanks for the good work. We got it from here.”
You question if you have the strength to start over. It’s especially hard when you’ve used your success to show God’s glory, and now, like David, your enemies whisper, “God has forsaken him” (Psalm 71:10–11).
I feel a kinship with David as I read this Psalm, experiencing similar emotions. So, I choose his path, praying:
“Do not be far from me, my God; come quickly, God, to help me.” (Psalm 71:12, NIV)
David maintained faith in God’s deliverance throughout his life—on the battlefield, when driven from Jerusalem, and now, as he neared the end. He had no reason to doubt God would do all He promised.
“I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more.” (Psalm 71:14, NIV)
In our home, our motto has always been, “Praise Him When You’re Up, Praise Him When You’re Down.” It’s easy to thank God for blessings. True faith praises Him for trials that build character and deepen our walk with Him.
Even when my wife and I sell only $56 at an art market on a 100-degree Saturday, we find reason to praise: the wind wasn’t too bad, no one stole from us, our car started, and we returned to a comfortable home. We remember, like David:
“My mouth will tell of your righteous deeds, of your saving acts all day long — though I know not how to relate them all.” (Psalm 71:15, NIV)
We don’t need to understand everything. Feeling thankful for being a part of God’s plan is more important than understanding the reasons behind it.
So, as I embark on the rest of my career, I will echo David:
“Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, my God, till I declare your power to the next generation, your mighty acts to all who are to come.” (Psalm 71:18, NIV)
The greatest blessing is to be here, to tell others about our great and mighty Lord. If you’re struggling with doubts, grasping for something to hold on to, read Psalm 71. Realize that even kings call out to God. Remain in Him, knowing:
“Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth, you will again bring me up.” (Psalm 71:20, NIV)
Tomorrow, we will read Psalms 74-77.
