I’ve spent most of my life being the youngest person in the group* – no matter what group it was. In spent the bulk of elementary school in classrooms other than my grade level. When we moved, and I entered a new public middle school in January of 8th grade, I was the only person in my grade who wasn’t already a teenager. Later, I would become the only eleventh-grader who wasn’t old enough to drive. I didn’t turn 18 until April of my first year of college. Since my friends were always my classmates, they were always older.

I graduated from college at 21 (I’d been 21 for about four weeks). I was the youngest member of our seminary class. Since so many men come to seminary several (or many) years after they graduated from college the age difference there was even more pronounced. I graduated from seminary at 24, was licensed in the Presbytery that year and was ordained into ministry one year later.

My whole life, particularly when I’ve done things other people haven’t liked, my age has become an issue. Whenever I spoke publicly with any degree of confidence I would hear comments about my age. If I ever suggested that someone else was in error they’d find a way out of it by taking a jab at my age. This works best in large groups of people. I’ve seen few ad hominem attacks are more successful than those based on age. It is certainly the most socially-acceptable type, especially if you can play it off as a joke. The target’s failure to be amused will only serve to further demonstrate their immaturity. (“Typical young person – takes himself so seriously!” See how self-fulfilling these attacks are?)

I can’t pinpoint the age when it stopped bothering me but at some point it did. I remember being really offended every time someone tried to use my age as a weapon against me. Then I remember not being offended any more. For years – at least five that I can recall – I’ve been able to ignore those kinds of comments rather well.

They aren’t always directed solely at me, either. I remember much of the early marital advice we got. Some of it was quite bad but no matter how graciously we objected we were reminded of our youth and marital inexperience. The same thing happened when we had children. The same thing still happens when we’re talking to some parents of older children. “Just wait – you’ll see.” It couldn’t possibly be that we’re right about our own marriage and children. We just haven’t grown up enough yet to see that we’re wrong.

As I said, I can’t pinpoint the age when it stopped bothering me. But I can pinpoint the age when it started to bother me again – 29. Perhaps it’s the closeness of 30. Perhaps I’ve regressed in maturity or other stresses have caused me to become more sensitive to criticism. Whatever the cause, I confess that I’ve become very weary of the accusation of youth. I’m not talking about the private admonishments which encourage me to act differently. I appreciate those even when I don’t agree with their assessment. I’m talking about the way a person can shift the attention from their own error to my (supposed) error simply by making a joke or knowing comment about my age. A small eye roll and a mildly sarcastic tone are sure to win the favor of a gathered crowd.

I find those attacks repulsive for two reasons. The first is that so many people immediately buy into them because it’s what they want to believe about young people. If anyone younger than they speaks with confidence they want them to be wrong. And they want them to be shown to be wrong because young people shouldn’t speak with that kind of certainty.

The second reason is more significant: it completely cuts off debate on the real issue. It doesn’t matter how illogical or demonstrably false the original claim was. If a young person objects to it and the response to the objection is joined with some kind of age-based attack – the debate is won. Anything you try to say in response, unless you recant of your original position, is shot down as being defensive and overly sensitive. In a courtroom you’d have no option but to rest your case prematurely; the jury has stopped listening.

Let me begin my conclusion by admitting that I battle daily with excessive pride. I make no claims of humility and certainly hope that, over time, God will refine my character. But every once in a while I suspect that it’s not the pride of youth, but the insecurity of one in the presence of youth, that’s the real issue.

* I was only the second-youngest in our college graduating class. Joshua was a few months younger than I.