Christ for the Generations, Part One

Godly Older Men

"But as for you, teach what accords with sound doctrine. Older men are to be sober-minded, dignified, self-controlled, sound in faith, in love, and in steadfastness." Titus 2:1–2

In these opening ten verses of Titus 2, Paul speaks directly to different groups in the church: older men (v.2), older women (v.3), younger women (vv.4–5), younger men (v.6), Titus himself (vv.7–8), and then bondservants or laborers (vv.9–10). He doesn’t give the same word to everyone. Instead, he applies the truth according to their station in life.

Paul begins with a contrast: “But as for you”—Titus is to be nothing like the false teachers of chapter one. They upset entire households with empty talk and lies. Their teaching was rotten. Titus, on the other hand, is to hold fast to what’s healthy. Sound doctrine means more than just correct ideas—it means doctrine that nourishes and builds up. He is to teach the truth and the life that flows from it.

Let me point out a few obvious truths.

First, it is not just acceptable but essential to deal with different kinds of people differently. That’s what Paul is doing. In recent years, churches have tried to flatten everyone into a genderless, ageless lump. You’ll hear things like, “We don’t need to call men to be manly—just to be godly.” But that’s a false dilemma. Godliness is not some abstract ideal. It always takes shape—and for men, that means masculine godliness. For women, feminine. For old and young, it looks different. That’s the point. The Word must be applied specifically.

And yes, life is complex. I’m a man, a husband, a father, a pastor, and an employee. We all have overlapping roles. But good discipleship often requires focusing on one thing at a time. That’s what Paul models. That’s how we should preach. Sometimes we speak generally—but more often, we should aim our words. That’s where many modern Christians get uncomfortable. Everyone wants every sermon to apply to everyone, all the time. But that’s not how Scripture works.

There are 52 Sundays in a year. When it’s your turn to hear a word aimed at your life, don’t redirect. Listen. Apply it.

Second, a healthy church honors two basic distinctions: age and sex. That’s not just sociology—it’s biblical design. Paul emphasizes the older training the younger (v. 4).

The church needs both. Older saints bring wisdom. They’ve lived through trials, joy, suffering, and regret. They’ve seen their kids grow up. They know loss. They’ve buried friends. They carry perspective.

But they also need the young. The older may be rich in wisdom but poor in energy. The young bring fire and life. Babies and toddlers can stir the hearts of gray-haired saints. The zeal of youth stokes the embers of age. It works both ways. Wisdom without zeal burns low. Zeal without wisdom burns out. But mix them together, and you get something powerful.

The same is true of the sexes. God gave men strength, clarity, and drive. He gave women warmth, nurture, and beauty. Both are needed. Neither is optional. Churches that skew hard toward one sex or age group grow lopsided. They may look strong for a time, but they rot from the inside. Paul shows us a better way.

So, with that in mind, let’s look at the first group Paul addresses—older men.

Paul says they are to be sober-minded, dignified, self-controlled, sound in faith, love, and steadfastness.

Here’s the first point: you never outgrow the need to be exhorted. There’s no spiritual retirement plan. No “Do Not Disturb” sign for your soul. In Philippians 3, Paul—near the end of his life—says he hasn’t arrived. He’s still pressing forward, still straining. That mindset is maturity. The mature man doesn’t think he’s finished growing—he knows how much further he has to go. He welcomes correction.

Paul tells Timothy in 1 Timothy 5:1 not to rebuke older men harshly but to encourage them like fathers. Calvin puts it well: Paul isn’t saying older men are above correction—just that it needs to be delivered in a respectful way, one that takes their age into account. Often, older men are more resistant to being corrected—especially by younger men. That’s not a virtue. That’s a weakness.

We’ve all seen it. You share a truth with someone older, and they shrug it off. Then someone else says the exact same thing and it clicks. Familiarity breeds contempt. Sometimes so does youth. But that doesn’t mean we stop exhorting older men. It means we do so with humility, patience, and respect.

If you’re an older man, don’t be unteachable. Don’t tune out just because the messenger is young. God may be speaking to you through someone half your age. And if you’re younger, don’t be smug. Speak with honor. Correct like a son, not a punk.

Second, older men must be exhorted because some sins don’t fade—they grow with age. Chrysostom, preaching on this passage in the 4th century, warned of sins particular to old age: slowness, timidity, forgetfulness, irritability, and a dulling of the heart. He wasn’t wrong.

As we age, it’s easy to let maturity morph into passivity. To confuse thoughtfulness with procrastination. To let wisdom become an excuse for disengagement. Some of you older men need to get moving. You’re coasting. But the days are short. The fight isn’t over. Use your time well.

Chrysostom also warned of insensibility—a hardening of the heart. You’ve been through a lot. Maybe you’ve grown numb. Nothing moves you like it used to. You don’t weep. You don’t repent. You shrug. That’s not toughness—that’s callousness.

And then there’s irritability. You’ve seen it. Maybe you’ve become it. The grumpy old man. He’s angry—but not just at others. At himself. His body’s failing. His plans didn’t pan out. His kids are distant. The regret weighs heavy. And all of it curdles into bitterness.

Is that you?

If it is, don’t make excuses. Repent. The cross is for that. Jesus died for old sins and hardened hearts. Grace is still for you. You’re not beyond it.

And as for the pain—emotional, physical, relational—don’t let it hollow you out. A new body is coming. A new heart. A new life. Jesus is risen. And in Him, your best days are not behind you.

So stay in the fight. Finish strong.

Titus is to exhort older men to embody four traits: sober-mindedness, dignity, self-control, and soundness in faith, love, and steadfastness.

George Knight points out that when Paul says “Older men are to be…,” the verb implies visible character. These aren’t just ideals—they should already be manifest. They’re the natural fruit of spiritual maturity, hanging heavy on the tree after many seasons of growth. Like smoke rising from fire, these traits should rise from a soul long burned for the glory of God.

A man who’s walked with Christ through valleys and mountaintops—buried friends, fought sin, endured hardship—ought to radiate these qualities. You can’t fake it. It’s forged through obedience, repentance, and long faithfulness. For the godly man, old age isn’t a fade-out—it’s a ripening. And these are the marks: clear thinking, dignified presence, self-mastery, and rock-solid trust, love, and endurance.

Sober-mindedness speaks to mental clarity. While it can refer to literal sobriety, the broader meaning is clear-headedness. In 1 Timothy 3, Paul separates it from drunkenness, so it’s more about discernment, discipline, and steadiness.

A sober-minded man doesn’t chase crises or panic with the headlines. He knows when to act and when to wait. He doesn’t get rattled. He keeps his footing when others are stumbling. That’s one of the clearest marks of a godly older man.

Dignity means gravity—weightiness of presence. The NKJV says reverent. The KJV, grave. It’s the idea of a man whose life speaks for itself. He doesn’t have to demand respect—he’s earned it. He’s serious without being joyless. He knows when to laugh and when to bite his tongue.

This is the Roman virtue of gravitas—a kind of moral weight. It’s not charisma. It’s something deeper. Gravitas is earned through consistency, repentance, and suffering. The same hard seasons that make some men cold and bitter can make others bold, wise, and warm. That’s dignity.

Self-control here leans toward prudence—inner restraint. A man who isn’t reactive or easily provoked. He feels deeply, but he’s not ruled by emotion. His mind is anchored. His responses are measured. That’s maturity.

Sound in faith, love, and steadfastness—the three essential Christian virtues. John Stott says it well: faith is trusting God, love is serving others, and steadfastness is patient endurance. These should characterize a man who’s walked with Christ for decades. He doesn’t just know doctrine—he trusts. He doesn’t just talk about community—he gives himself in love. He doesn’t just long for heaven—he waits for it with gritty hope.

Young men, this is what you should aim for. Devotion, obedience, repentance—lived out daily. But don’t despise the men already walking that road. Especially those who truly embody these traits. If you dishonor them, you’re sowing seeds that’ll haunt you later. Bitter old men were once arrogant young ones. You reap what you sow.

Even if an older man doesn’t deserve your respect, giving it still honors God—and often shames folly more effectively than rebuke. You can acknowledge generational blind spots without pouring gas on the fire. Recognize the pattern. Don’t replicate it.

Older men, if you’ve stumbled through the early innings—fine. But finish strong. You’re needed. The church needs your steadiness, your wisdom, your presence. Slide into home with your eyes on Christ.

God is the God of generations—Abraham, Isaac, Jacob. He builds families. He builds churches for the long haul. And that means we need older men full of faith, love, and endurance.