Summer Worship 9am Only

Psalm 90

The Paradox of Mortality and Eternity: Finding Our True Home

In the grand tapestry of existence, we find ourselves caught in a fascinating paradox. We are beings of dust, formed from the earth, yet breathed into life by the very spirit of God. This duality of our nature – earthly and heavenly – places us in a unique position as "spiritual amphibians," capable of living in two realms simultaneously.

The ancient wisdom of Psalm 90 invites us to ponder this reality deeply. It opens with a profound declaration: "Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations." This statement, set against the backdrop of mortality and the fleeting nature of human life, carries immense weight. It speaks to a truth that resonates in the depths of our souls – we were made by God, for God.

Consider the stark contrast presented in this psalm. On one hand, we have the eternal God, existing from "everlasting to everlasting," the creator of mountains and the entire world. On the other, we have humanity, compared to grass that sprouts in the morning and withers by evening. Our lives are described as "a sigh," passing away under the reality of our mortality.

Yet, in this seeming bleakness, there's a glimmer of profound hope and purpose. The psalmist pleads, "Teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom." This isn't a morbid obsession with death, but rather an invitation to live with spiritual attentiveness. It's a call to wake up to the preciousness of each moment we're given.

To truly count our days, we must make our days count. This wisdom acknowledges our mortality while simultaneously spurring us to live with intention and purpose. Every breath becomes an opportunity – to love, to serve, to forgive, to worship, to build up. Even in the midst of difficult circumstances or periods of "wilderness," we're called to orient our lives towards something greater.

This perspective challenges the prevalent cultural narrative that sees God as a "cosmic killjoy," somehow limiting our enjoyment of life. Instead, it presents a radically different view – that in God, we find our true home, our place of ultimate belonging and purpose. As Jesus said in John 15, "Abide in me... I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing."

This imagery of the vine and branches beautifully illustrates our dependence on God. A branch separated from the vine withers and dies. But connected to the source of life, it flourishes and bears fruit. Our lives, when rooted in God, take on a richness and meaning that transcends our mortality.

The apostle Paul echoes this sentiment in 1 Corinthians 15:58, encouraging believers to be "steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain." There's a profound assurance here – that our lives and our work matter, especially when done in connection with God.

This brings us to a crucial point – the nature of God's love and anger. Often, these are seen as mutually exclusive, but a deeper understanding reveals they are intricately connected. God's anger against sin and its destructive effects in our lives stems from His deep love for us. Like a parent grieving over a child's harmful choices, God's anger is not just against us, but for us. It's a passionate desire to see us living in the fullness of who we were created to be.

The psalmist doesn't shy away from acknowledging God's wrath, but boldly asks to be satisfied by God's steadfast love (chesed in Hebrew). This juxtaposition highlights the complexity of our relationship with God – He is both just and merciful, holy and loving.

As we navigate the realities of our mortality, we're invited to cry out to God daily. "Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days." This isn't a one-time satisfaction, but a daily renewal, a continuous dwelling in God's presence.

Moreover, we're encouraged to pray for God's favor and for the establishment of the work of our hands. Even in the face of death, we can live lives that echo into eternity. Our days may be numbered, but our impact doesn't have to be limited by our lifespan.

In light of these truths, how should we then live? The apostle Paul exhorts us in Ephesians 5:15-16, "Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil." This careful consideration of how we live aligns perfectly with the psalmist's plea for wisdom in numbering our days.

We're called to orient ourselves to our true home – not in the fleeting securities of this world, but in the eternal God who has been our dwelling place in all generations. It's an invitation to live with purpose, to make every day count, knowing that in God's kingdom, nothing is wasted.

This perspective doesn't ignore the difficulties and pain of life. Rather, it acknowledges them while holding onto the hope that God can redeem even the hardest of circumstances. Whatever we do, we're encouraged to do it for the glory of God, trusting that He is working all things together for good.

As we close, let's reflect on this paradox of our existence – mortal yet destined for eternity, of the earth yet breathed into life by God's spirit. May we learn to live as the spiritual amphibians we are, fully engaged in this world while deeply connected to our eternal home in God. In doing so, we may find that our numbered days become filled with meaning, purpose, and the unshakeable joy of dwelling in God's presence.

Jeremy Erb

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