Remember How Fleeting Is My Life

Remember how fleeting is my life.
     For what futility you have created all humanity!
Who can live and not see death,
     or who can escape the power of the grave?

(Psalm 89:47-48)

Recently it snowed in my small town in eastern North Carolina. Evidently, it causes quite a stir when it snows in these parts. A forecast of anything more than a 50% chance of winter precipitation triggers a survival response that makes otherwise rational people run to the store to buy eggs, bread, and milk. 

Yes, only those three things. It seems that french toast is a necessity for one’s survival in the snow.

Also, once someone has verified that at least 126 snowflakes have fallen across our county, the schools close. I told you, snow causes quite a stir around here.

Anyway, it snowed overnight, so I decided to get up early and walk to the nearby cemetery to capture some photos of the sun rising over the fresh blanket of snow. It was beautiful, I must admit, to see the sun cast its rays through the trees and upon the glistening white frozen ground. 

Later in the day, I went back to the cemetery while walking our dog. At one point, I stopped at a place where I had watched the sun come up, and now the snow had completely disappeared; it had melted and evaporated in just a few hours. I thought it was a good metaphor for the fleeting nature of life – here one moment, and gone the next.

The Bible teaches us that life is finite. Truth is, we don’t need the Bible to tell us that, because our finitude is evident to us every day. But the Bible does tell us things like “The grass withers, and the flowers fade… surely the people are grass,” and “Teach us to number our days…,” and “Remember how fleeting is my life...”

Here one moment, and gone the next. Life is fleeting, indeed.

I know, you’re probably saying, “Thanks a lot – just what I needed to hear today. What an uplifting message.

You’re welcome. But stick with me for a moment, won’t you?

Wednesday is the beginning of the season of Lent. Around here, we call it Ash Wednesday. You probably do, too. On Ash Wednesday, we are called to consider our mortality and our sinfulness. We are also invited to turn our hearts toward the cross, and to take a forty-day journey of reflection on the love of Jesus that compelled him to walk steadfastly toward the cross in order to redeem us from our sin and to grant us eternal life.

Because though our lives are fleeting – we’re here one moment, and gone the next – our lives are also precious to Jesus. 

Jesus loves you. 

Jesus loves me. 

With an everlasting, redeeming love.

I hope that, wherever you are, you will take advantage of this special gift that we call Lent. Sure, you need to think about what it is that sent Jesus to the cross. You need to think about your own sinfulness, your brokenness, your need for redemption. All of us need to think upon these things. 

But on this side of the cross, we also have the joyful privilege of embracing the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord, and in the knowledge that there is nothing in all of creation that can separate us from that love. And so this journey of 40 days not only is a time of reflection on our sin and brokenness; indeed, it is even more a call to turn to our Lord, to depend on our Lord’s love and grace.

“Remember, O mortal, that you are dust; and to dust you shall return.”

Life is fleeting, indeed. But by the grace of God it is so very precious. 

And so are you.