Teach us to number our days and recognise how few they are; help us to spend them as we should.” This prayer, found in the 90th Psalm of the Old Testament, is poignant for us tonight. This week we’ve been reminded again of our mortality, that our days are not without end. We are finite. In a single moment our plans and dreams may run out of time.
The tragic death on Monday of crocodile hunter Steve Irwin overshadowed most news for the rest of the week. Irwin courted danger regularly. He seemed invincible. He was—until that freak stab of the sting ray’s barb. He died at 44.
Just after 2 o’clock Friday, Eastern Time, racing legend Peter Brock’s days came to an end. He was 61. He left with plenty of accolades—winning the Bathurst 1000 a record nine times, and as a successful businessman in the sphere of motor sport since his retirement in ‘97. On Denton last year he said he believed his best years lay ahead. And yet it was a simple corner turn that brought the ‘King of the Mountain’s’ race to an end.
The theme of mortality went beyond the loss of these legends though. In Indonesia, six members of the group now known as the Bali Nine face the death sentence for their alleged decisions to smuggle heroin to Australia. And tomorrow marks the fifth anniversary of the September 11 tragedy, where 3000 people died on an otherwise blue-skied New York morning. The decisions we make can shorten our days. The decisions of others can shorten them too.
That’s why this ancient prayer seems fitting. “Teach us to number our days and recognise how few they are; help us to spend them as we should.” Even after adolescence—when most people feel immortal—most of us prefer to think our final day lies well beyond tomorrow. But in the grand sweep of history, our appearance on earth is incredibly short, and our final performance on life’s stage is unknown. It could be any moment. How many people around the world have given their final breath in the last few minutes? That’s why we should recognise our limited days, and use them well.
For the second time this year we’ve been shaken by a week of high-profile loss. Remember that first weekend of May? In the space of just a few days we had the Beaconsfield tragedy, Sophie Delezio’s second horrific accident, and veteran reporter Richard Carleton’s death. The whole nation stopped that weekend, and plenty of people prayed. It happened again this week—we stood wide-eyed, with jaws-dropped at the loss of Irwin and Brock. I hope we have ears to hear the message being sent to us: “Teach us to number our days and recognise how few they are; help us to spend them as we should.”
Recognising the brevity of our lives means thinking through what’s most important. Jesus told the story of a king who threw a wedding reception for his son—a banquet. He sent out the invitations and when the time was right sent his servants to fetch the guests. But they didn’t come. The king sent the servants out again. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘the table’s set and the roast’s ready. Come to the party!’ But still no one came good on their promise to attend. One went off to his farm, another to his shop—they were too consumed with their businesses and making money. Angry, the king sent his servants out again, this time to the streets to invite anyone who’d come to his son’s wedding reception—the good and the bad alike. Finally, those not consumed with their lives accepted the king’s kindness and came to the banquet.
Work, money, possessions and accomplishments aren’t evil in themselves, but if all we have at the end of our days are houses, cars, trophies and awards, we’ll find ourselves bankrupt. “What profit is there if you gain the whole world, yet lose your own soul?” Jesus said.
And that would be the greatest tragedy of this weekend: If we failed to recognise the brevity of life, continue to consume ourselves with our jobs and lifestyles, and reject God’s invitation to join him for a heavenly banquet—a party that will last beyond our earthly lives and into eternity.
