Yesterday I had the complete delight of singing on the worship team of Fuse Church. As I stood on the stage, I realized I had the best seat in the house. From that vantage point, I could see God’s people, all shapes and sizes, all ages and stages of faith, coming together for one common purpose — to love on Jesus.

It was beautiful to witness the Holy Spirit woo us into worship and then our adoring response. I was nearly out of my skin.  And one woman on the front row took my breath away. I have no idea her age but her hair was white, her back slightly bent. She was alone and yet so very connected to her King. Her arms, thin and shaking, kept lifting in praise.  Over and over my gaze would land on her frail body and strong spirit.

I could see she was praying, and worshiping, and being loved on by her Father. Priceless.

Try to hear my heart as I recount this.  I was so moved by her apparent age and obvious heart for God that I uttered a cry:  “Lord, let this be me till the end.”

I don’t know her story. But I see that at the end of her life, she has found the answer to her questions and it is Jesus. I want to fight the good fight. I want to run the race to the end.  When all else fades: beauty, money, strength, reputation, good works, even relationships — I pray my hands will still be lifted in praise to my King. I want the worship of God to be my legacy regardless of the length or status of my life or color of my hair.

How about you? Whose footsteps are you following in? Who are the white-haired worshipers in your life?  Who has gone before you and led the way in worshiping God through the seasons of life?

Give me a quick response. And let’s thank God for using these people to “spur us on to good works.”

I’ll go first. My mom is 83 and still plays the piano at her church. Even arthritis doesn’t stop her white-haired worship. And my dad at 85 can still sing some Gaither hymns like you’ve never heard.  Your turn. Go.