Coming of Age: Reflections at 33

In The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien tells us that a Hobbit officially comes of age at 33. It is the year of maturity, the threshold between youth and full adulthood. When we first meet Frodo Baggins, he celebrates his 33rd birthday alongside Bilbo’s eleventy-first, marking the moment when he steps into the story that will define his life. Interestingly, this age holds significance beyond Middle-earth. It is widely believed that Jesus Christ was around 33 when He fulfilled His earthly mission, bringing His ministry to its great culmination at Calvary and the Resurrection.

I do not bear such a mission as to save Middle-earth, much less the world. If anything, 33 years have taught me that I cannot save anyone. But I have learned that my life can be a beacon, pointing others toward the One who can. As I stand on this threshold, looking back on the years behind me and the unknown adventures ahead, I want to share some of the key lessons that have shaped me as I have come of age.

The Lesson of Grief: Love’s Cost

I don’t remember much of my childhood before my mother was diagnosed with cancer. I was six years old when we found out, and for two years, she fought with a strength that was both heartbreaking and inspiring. But at 29, her earthly mission came to an end, and I was left at the age of eight to make sense of a world where the person I loved most was gone.

Losing her so early in life taught me a lesson I would carry forever: grief exists only where love has existed first. The deeper the love, the deeper the grief. And while grief is a right and natural response to loss, it can become a hell if we refuse to step out of it. As C.S. Lewis said in A Grief Observed, “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” It can paralyze you if you let it. But I have learned that grief should be a season, not a home. We honor those we love not by being consumed by sorrow but by living lives that reflect the love they gave us.

The Lesson of Identity: Wasted Time and the Need to Impress

High school was an exhausting dance of trying to impress people who, in the grand scheme of things, didn’t matter. I remember the desperate attempts to fit in, to prove my worth, to gain validation from those I thought mattered. I ran to distractions—some good, some destructive—all to cover a hemorrhaging heart that felt like it wasn’t enough.

Looking back, I see how much time I wasted on nonsense. I see now why age humbles us. The older we get, the more we realize how much of our energy was spent on things that have no eternal value. As Augustine wisely said, “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” No amount of approval from others can fill the void that only God was meant to occupy.

The Lesson of Faith: Conversion and the Search for Meaning

At 17, after years of battling anger—anger at God for taking my mom, anger at my circumstances, anger at the never-ending search for validation that never seemed to be met—I encountered Jesus Christ in a way that changed everything.

“You will never love yourself or others rightly until you love God mostly.”

This truth became the foundation of my life. Apart from Him, I am nothing. With Him, I am at peace. He gave me a purpose bigger than myself, a reason to live beyond my own ambitions. The weight of my past, my wounds, and my failures found their answer in the One who bore it all on the cross.

The Lesson of Brotherhood: The Military and the Bond of Warriors

Joining the military taught me lessons I could never have learned elsewhere. It taught me discipline, courage, and the value of true brotherhood. War has a way of turning boys into men, and sometimes into monsters, and sometimes into strangers. But one thing I learned was this: your brothers will always have your back.

Proverbs 17:17 says, “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.” The bonds forged in hardship, in danger, and in shared struggle are unlike anything else. I learned to stand with others, to trust, to lean on those beside me. I learned that courage is not the absence of fear but the willingness to act in spite of it.

The Lesson of Marriage and Fatherhood: The Greatest Adventure

I didn’t miss out on life by getting married early—I gained it exponentially. My wife is my greatest friend, my strongest advocate, and my love. My children are my joy, my legacy, and my ever-present reminder that I am still growing.

Each child brings new lessons, new challenges, and a new version of myself. That’s why each child gets a different parent—because we grow alongside them. The moment I first held each of them, I was terrified. How could I not be? Holding a little image-bearer, looking into eyes that would one day search the world for answers, knowing that I am meant to guide them? But love casts out fear, and oh, what a life it has been because of them.

The Lesson of Shepherding: The Hidden Beauty of Pastoral Ministry

Ministry is not what people think it is. The true beauty is not in the grand stages or the applause—it is in the trenches. A shepherd does not work in the public eye; he works among the sheep, often unnoticed, often dealing with wounded, fearful creatures who don’t always trust him. It is messy, tiring, and sometimes discouraging. But there is nothing greater than carrying people to the greatest source of hope, restoration, and grace.

The faithful pastor at heart will live unseen by most but fully seen by God. And that is enough.

The Journey Ahead

I have so much more to learn. And as the old adage goes, the older I get, the more I realize how little I truly know. But now that I have come of age, I look forward to the road ahead, to the adventures yet to be had, and to the wisdom that stands behind me, ready to guide me through whatever lies ahead. There will be trials, victories, joys, and sorrows. There will be new lessons to learn and old ones to relearn. But if these years have taught me anything, it is that God is faithful through it all. So I press forward, not knowing where the path may lead, but trusting that the One who leads me knows the way.

As Bilbo once said, "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to." So here I stand, feet planted, eyes fixed forward, ready for whatever adventure lies ahead.