More than usual, you and I are feeling the fragility of life. By now, you may know and love someone who is sick with this virus. By now, you may know a beloved person who has died from it. This may be the first time you have ever been afraid of illness. We know that our bodies are vulnerable. We feel it every day now, as we wipe things down with bleach wipes, and wash our hands over and over.
The Psalmist thinks of the infinity of God, how God brought creation into being and the way God can finish life and turn us back into the dust we were formed from. For God, time passes differently, with 1,000 years passing like a day. If we are fortunate, says the Psalmist, we humans will get 70 or 80 years on earth.
And in our fragility and our finitude, our misfortune and our short life span can feel as though God is doing that to us in anger. For the Psalmist, God’s wrath looms large as he considers his life.
But the Psalmist did not have the benefit of knowing Jesus. We do. Our lives are lived knowing that, even knowing our sin, Jesus Himself valued us enough to come and live with us. Jesus feels the things we feel in the body: sickness, worry, fragility, grief, fear, joy, and peace. Jesus valued us enough to step between us and sin and death, He fought Hell for us and won. We know for sure that we are worth more than blades of grass or dust to God because of the surpassing gift of Jesus.
And yet, we join the Psalmist in wanting to live through these days in such a way that we get a heart of wisdom, as we live however long a life God wants us to have. We want to use our time here with each other fully, abundantly, wisely. Like the Psalmist, we want to look at our every day as an offering to God, to our families, to our church and city.