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2025 Lenten Reflections

A Bed for the Weary 

HONORING OUR ELDERLY

"Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is attained in the way of righteousness.”

Proverbs 16:31

Illustration by Eunice Sunmie Derksen

Aging, sickness, and death—these are not just distant realities but the roads we all must walk. Our culture often looks away, glorifying youth and vitality, as if turning a blind eye could somehow delay the inevitable. But Scripture does not turn away. God does not turn away. Instead, He leans in with tenderness, wisdom, and a deeper truth: every season of life, even its hardest moments, is sacred in His sight.

Aging: The Beauty and Honor of the Elderly

God sees gray hair as a crown of wisdom (Proverbs 16:31). He commands His people to honor the elderly (Leviticus 19:32), not just out of duty, but because they bear the weight of years, stories, and lessons hard-won. The elderly remind us that there is more to life than the rush of youth — character, perseverance, and faith that have stood the test of time are worthy of honor.


Yet, let’s be honest: old age is not easy. The body weakens, memories fade, and loneliness can often creep in. But God does not forget the elderly; they are still a vital part of His Kingdom, meant to pass on wisdom, mentor the next generation, and be a testimony of faithfulness (Psalm 92:12-14). The church, as God’s family, is called to cherish them—not to push them aside but to embrace them as living witnesses of His grace.

Old Man on his Death Bed by Gustav Klimt

Sickness: The Valley of Refining

There is no easy way to talk about suffering. Sickness humbles us. It strips away illusions of control, forcing us to face our weakness. It can bring unbearable pain, frustration, and even doubts about God’s goodness. But here’s the mystery: God does not waste suffering. Jesus Himself bore our sickness and pain (Isaiah 53:4-5), and though we long for healing, sometimes His answer is not relief but grace. Paul knew this well—his thorn in the flesh was never removed, yet God told him, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Healing does happen. Miracles are real. But sometimes, God’s greatest work is done not by removing suffering, but by meeting us in it. He walks beside the bedridden, strengthens the weak, and gives peace that surpasses understanding. He calls His people to be His hands and feet—to pray, to comfort, to sit beside the sick and remind them that they are not alone.

Death: The Final Enemy, The Great Transition

We will all face death. It looms over us, unavoidable, reminding us that we are dust. And yet, Scripture tells us that death does not have the final word. Christ has conquered it (1 Corinthians 15:54-57). For those in Him, death is not the end—it is a doorway. To live is Christ, to die is gain (Philippians 1:21). But that does not mean death is easy. Saying goodbye is devastating. The pain of loss cuts deep, and even Jesus wept at the tomb of his beloved friend, Lazarus.

Yet, in the valley of the shadow of death, God is near (Psalm 23:4). He does not demand that we be unshaken, that we put on a brave face. He simply invites us to trust that He is there, that He holds our days in His hands, and that beyond this life there is something far greater than we could ever imagine.

The Church’s Historic, Faithful Response

Caring for the elderly, the sick, and the dying has always been at the heart of the church’s mission. From the very beginning, followers of Jesus saw the vulnerable not as burdens but as people bearing the image of God and deserving of love and dignity.

The early church lived a radical love in a harsh world. The Roman world was not kind to the weak. The elderly were often discarded, the sick abandoned, and the dying left to suffer alone. But the early Christians did something unheard of—they stayed. When plagues swept through cities and most people fled, Christians remained, caring for the sick at great personal risk. They saw suffering not as something to be avoided but as an opportunity to love as Christ loved.

As the centuries passed, the church’s role in caring for the vulnerable only deepened. Monasteries became places of healing, where the sick were nursed with both medicine and prayer. The first hospitals in the Western world were homes of compassion and were often run by monks and nuns who saw their work as a way of tending to the wounds of Christ Himself.

The church also recognized the sacredness of dying. Last rites, prayers, and the presence of a priest or pastor helped remind the dying that they were not alone—that even in their final breath, they were held in God’s hands.

As societies changed, so did the way we care for the elderly and sick. After the Industrial Revolution, hospitals became larger and more clinical, and care became the responsibility of professionals rather than communities of faith. The church has had to adapt to these shifts.

Rooted in its commitment to Scripture, sacramental life, and justice advocacy, Anglicanism has approached these issues with a balance of theological depth, compassionate ministry, and institutional involvement. The Book of Common Prayer (1549 and later editions) provides rich liturgical resources for the sick and dying, emphasizing prayers for healing, absolution, and commendation at the time of death. The Elizabethan Poor Laws (1601) shaped early welfare systems, were heavily influenced by Anglican principles, recognizing the church’s duty to care for society’s most vulnerable. Influential, Anglican figures like Florence Nightingale and Dame Cicely Saunders, who pioneered nursing and the modern hospice movement, reminded the world that dying is not just a medical event but a deeply human and spiritual one too.

Yet, despite these efforts, something was lost. The elderly were placed in institutions, often disconnected from their families and churches. The sick, though cared for in hospitals, were no longer surrounded by the familiar presence of their church communities. And death, once acknowledged as a part of life, became something hidden away, something we didn’t want to talk about.

How Can Anglicans Stand in This Story of Faithfulness?

The Anglican Church in North America is uniquely positioned to be a bridge between these historic and modern challenges, offering a pastoral, theological, and social response to the needs of the elderly, sick, and dying. In a world that often avoids suffering, the church is called to be present in it—to offer a vision of aging with dignity, suffering with hope, and dying with faith.

This is not just a mission for clergy; it is the call of the whole body of Christ. Every parish, every believer, every community can play a role in ensuring that no one walks this journey alone. In a world that often fears aging, avoids sickness, and recoils from death, the church has been called to move toward these realities—to be present, to offer comfort, and to remind us all that even in our weakest moments, we are not alone.

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