Another birthday, another look at my life. Here’s what I’m thinking about this year.

Yet another birthday has fallen upon me. For three decades, almost every year at this time I’ve paused to take stock. Annually, I try to examine where I’ve been and where I’m headed as I turn a year older. I gather my thoughts.

Sometimes I discover I feel just the same as I did the previous year. Other times I find I’ve changed quite a bit. But either way, the inquiry itself feels profitable.

Here are some observations as I turn 66.

▪ As I age, it gets harder to plan. Take money. If I knew I was going to die at 70, I’d go on a spending spree. I’d take my family to Europe for a first-class vacation and buy myself an obnoxiously expensive car to tool around town in. But what if I accidentally live to be 90? I’ll need all my savings, and probably more, to support me, pay for an assisted living facility and then a nursing home. What to do?

This same dilemma figures into almost every arena of life. I finally understand why my Grandma Chestnut used to qualify her plans with, “if I live and keep my health.” She’d say, “Next spring I’m going to pull up those flowers around the cistern and plant perennials—if I live and keep my health.”

Back then I’d giggle. I was young enough to still think we were all going to be trundling around here forever exactly as we were today. Now I get it, Grandma.

▪ I continue to learn it’s good not to judge anybody or hold grudges. Trust me, this is more easily said than done, and I don’t always succeed at it.

But you never know what circumstances have brought somebody to the state of affairs he or she is in. Even if the person is a member of your own household, you still don’t know all the facts. Frequently people are tortured by deep secrets they’ve never shared. Occasionally they’re suffering from undiagnosed mental illnesses.

And sometimes we harbor grudges against people for wrongs they don’t even know they committed. Sometimes, in fact, they didn’t commit those wrongs—it’s possible we were at fault, at least partly. On and on the possibilities for misunderstanding go. You never really can say what’s in another person’s soul. Half the time you don’t truly know what’s in your soul. We’re all so easily self-deluded

Besides, harboring judgment, blame and hatred does more damage to us than to the object of our scorn. It’s wiser, and more productive, and more healing, to let those hurts go, to ask God to set us free from the pain. It may take some therapy and tons of prayer, but mainly we can choose not to judge or despise.

▪ I believe faithfulness is among the cardinal virtues and the one almost anybody can cultivate. You don’t have to be strong to be faithful. You don’t have to be wise. You don’t have to be talented. You don’t have to be beautiful. You don’t have to be rich.

All you have to do is show up and then keep showing up. Faithfulness can preserve a marriage. Faithfulness can sustain a church. Faithfulness can grow a business. Faithfulness can comfort a friend. There’s not much faithfulness can’t do.

There’s such tremendous power in simply not quitting, in consistently doing the right thing because it’s right. No matter how old you are. No matter how discouraged you feel. No matter what the results look like today. Just keep on keeping on.

Jesus said, “It’s the one who endures until the end who will be delivered.

▪ As I age, it keeps getting easier to tell the truth—to God, others and myself. I don’t mean this in the self-indulgent sense of, “I’m going to tell that so-and-so what I honestly think!” Not at all. Truth-telling isn’t a justification for acting like a jerk or a know-it-all.

What I mean by telling the truth is, I don’t feel the need to pretend to be anything I’m not or to believe anything I don’t. I can’t fool God anyway, so I might as well be honest with him. I’ve learned that it’s counterproductive to deceive myself. It’s much healthier to look directly in the mirror and accept what I see, good and bad.

And it’s a waste of time to try to curate my image to other people. It’s a lot of hard and stressful work with little payoff. First, people often can see through my pretensions. Second, they might actually like the unvarnished me. Third, all of them are every bit as screwed up as I am, so, really, what they think isn’t terribly important.

The truth does indeed make us free.

Paul Prather is pastor of Bethesda Church near Mount Sterling, Ky. You can email him at pratpd@yahoo.com.