I am a long way from retirement—from pulling back from the full-time day-to-day responsibilities of my vocation to instead begin winding down and preparing to step away. I am a long way from retirement, but not so far away that I can neglect planning for it. So, like most of my peers, I am doing my best to take advantage of the different programs that allow us to maximize savings, defer taxes, and otherwise get ready for the day our income will dry up and we will need to live off what we have accumulated.
(Parenthetical thought: Yes, I do intend to retire from full-time work at some point—not too early and hopefully not too late—so I can give greater focus to my family, my local church, and preparing my own soul to be with the Lord.)
Preparing for retirement necessarily involves focusing on numbers. There are lots of little numbers (e.g., the balance in this account, the maturity date of that investment, the potential tax owing based on a certain strategy) and then one big number. That big number, of course, is the one everyone asks at one time or another: How much do I need to save in order to retire?
Some say that to retire comfortably, you’ll need to have 70% of your pre-retirement income available annually for as long as you live. Others say it’s better to focus on setting aside 10 times your final salary, which should be enough to live comfortably. Still others say to have enough that you can live off 4% of your savings each year. There is lots of overlap between these rules, and I’m sure each of them has its own strengths and weaknesses.
It is good to plan and prepare for the days when I may no longer be capable of earning an income. But there is something about this planning that concerns me. I am well aware of my temptation to shift my confidence from God to a number, from a living, personal being to a mere sum. I am aware that I can begin to feel that my future financial security rests more on that number than on the Lord, and more on the gift than the giver. That number is important and wise to keep in mind. But that number cannot love, cannot care, cannot provide. Only God can do any of that.
I am well aware of my temptation to shift my confidence from God to a number, from a living, personal being to a mere sum.
The fact is, I can feel great peace or great agitation about the future based on my nearness or farness from that number. I can experience great confidence or great uncertainty when that number swells or ebbs. In other words, that number can quickly become an idol, a functional god who promises ease or difficulty, good times or bad. That number can control my desires, my moods, and my actions.
I am amazed at how immature my faith can be, even as I get old enough to begin to think about retirement, that I would sometimes find more hope in a number than in God. I am dismayed that a falling number can supplant the promises of a faithful Father. I am amazed at how fickle my heart can be, that even at this age, I would be tempted to trust in my bank account more than in my Savior. So even as I save, I am learning to trust—to shift my trust from something as weak and fleeting as numbers so I can fix it instead on the great and powerful God who promises he will provide.
