Numbering Our Days And Living Well

The plaque on the wall

Though it may not be readily apparent, my last few blogs revolve around the Psalm 90:12 prayer, “Teach us to number our days aright that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”  You see my longing in the way The Message words that verse, “Oh!  Teach us to live well!  Teach us to live wisely and well!”  That is what I am desiring to do in this season of life which, by all accounts, is a life extended by the grace of God and the prayers of His people.  Because I am alive when so many thought I would die, I have good reason to live well, if for no other purpose than as an act of gratitude: You have been good to me, God – in return I want to live well for you in whatever days I have left.  Sounds good, but this is also a point of struggle for me and for many who have faced life-altering events that have darkened their lives and robbed them, it seems, of joy.

I wonder at times… I wonder how it was for Jacob after his life-changing encounter with God in Genesis 32.  All of his life Jacob had acted in his own best interest, always out to get what he could, willing to take advantage of his blind dad and his simple-minded brother to get what he could.  But by Genesis 32 it was all coming back to haunt him – it seemed that his days were truly numbered, and in fear he spent a sleepless night by the river, attacked by an unknown assailant who turned out to be God.  Years before Jacob had talked to God as he fled his home to start a new life.  There at Bethel he had a dream, and Jacob sought to strike a bargain with God, “If you will bless me, keep me safe, make everything go well, I will let you be my God.”  But now at the riverside the stakes were much higher, and all he could do was cry out, “I will not let you go unless you bless me!”  God did bless Jacob, and God also left a permanent reminder of the occasion – from that day on Jacob walked with a limp, a perpetual pain in his hip.  He felt it when he got up in the morning, when he went out to do his chores, when he bounced his grandkids on his knee, and as he struggled to find a comfortable position in bed.  It was a new season of life for Jacob that he would never forget… I wonder if at times he prayed, “Lord, could you take this pain away?

I wonder how it was for Job – you know his story, it has been the subject of many of my blogs, I spent the first six months home from the hospital reading and rereading Job’s story.  His friends torment him, accusing him of sin he says he did not commit, confident that God would never allow such pain and grief to enter a person’s life unless they were sinners who deserved it.  Job argued with them and in the end God said Job was right and they were wrong.  The book closes strangely, almost an “and they lived happily ever after” feel.  But I don’t think it was that way for Job – yes, he was grateful that God had broken the silence and poured out His blessings again, but still – don’t you know there had to be a cemetery out back on Job’s homestead, a graveyard with ten gravestones and the names of his seven sons, his three daughters, a lifelong reminder of what he had lost.  I wonder if Job ever prayed, “Oh Lord, I don’t know if I can survive this grief!”

I wonder about the Apostle Paul – over in 2 Corinthians 12 he talks about a thorn in his flesh.  He never tells us what it is, it could be anything.  It could be the daily pain he felt from the scars and broken bones he received from the enemies of Christ, the beatings that at times left him almost dead.  Or it could be he struggled with eye problems, cataracts taking their toll, or macular degeneration, or just poor vision – is that is what is behind his comment in Galatians 4, “I can testify that, if you could have done so, you would have torn out your eyes and given them to me,” or his closing comment in Galatians 6, “See what large letters I use as I write to you with my own hand!”?  Whatever the thorn was, in the end it was only the grace of God that enabled Paul to endure.  I think that is the way it is for all of us – when life is tough, when the pain is deep, when the stakes are high, when the future is dark – it is only the grace of God and the daily prayers of urgency and need we voice that keep us afloat.

Teach us to live well and wisely, dear Lord, with whatever days we have left, following Jesus wherever He leads.  Yes, of course, but sometimes Lord the grief seems to get the best of us, the loss overwhelming, the future uncertain, the constant physical reminder too much – in these days, Lord, how do we live well?  In a new season of life that we didn’t want to enter, how can we make the most of the days?

These are questions I have been asking on my own journey.  Though the dust has settled and the health crisis is behind me, I still have daily reminders that life is no longer the same as it once was.  At this time I see no possibility of pastoring a church, and that is okay.  I know that some damage done by Covid is likely permanent, and even a kidney transplant will not alter what has happened.  I am grateful that I can write this blog, thankful that I can think again somewhat as I once did, interact with Scripture, be challenged by my books, and look for opportunities to come along side others in their walk with Christ.  Teaching a Bible study, occasionally preaching, connecting with friends far and near – all important to me, all helpful, something we all need.  At the same time, echoing Psalm 42, I remember when I used to lead the worship in church, when I used to be able to do things I can no longer do… and on those days that the memories really bother me, I cry out much as I suspect Jacob did, Job did, Paul did, you do…

Paul gives an important word in his letter to the Philippians.  At times we read that little epistle and forget what Paul was facing.  He tells us plainly that he is imprisoned, in chains because of his faith in Christ.  What we forget is that a Roman jail was nothing like a contemporary place of imprisonment.  He likely had no bed to lie on, he was surrounded by filth, his only food was what friends gave him, his only blanket a rag.  Imprisonment in his day was the short period before execution and death, something Paul clearly anticipates.  And yet, there in the jailhouse he experiences joy.  Joy over God’s good work which will surely be completed.  Joy over his converts and their brave faith, facing similar dangers as they keep their eyes on Jesus.  At one point he even speaks of suffering as something that has been granted to him, a gift of a sort, a way of finding union with Christ and remembering once again all Jesus went through on that cross.  As he closes out his letter, he encourages his readers to get along with each other, to remember that they are coworkers together and have no time for squabbles.  On the contrary, they are to rejoice in the Lord always – this is a command, not a suggestion. A tough command at times, something that requires prayer to pull off, a cry, “Lord, in the midst of what I face, help me to find joy in you!”  And to help us with a positive outlook on the circumstances and changed seasons of life that we may not like, Paul directs our attention – you remember what he says?  Philippians 4:8-9, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent and praiseworthy – think about such things.  Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me – put into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.”

Let those words soak in.  They have to do with where we turn our attention, especially in those moments where we, like Paul, are imprisoned by something not of our own will.  Imprisoned by sorrow – by loss – by grief – by ongoing pain – by a darkened future – by a sense of powerlessness – by a changing season of life.  I could go on, but you are already doing that, aren’t you.  Even in times when the season of life feels wintery, it is time to focus on what is best, what is most important.

Which brings me to the matter of a plaque in our bedroom.  For whatever reasons my wife and I gravitate toward plaques and pictures with sayings on them.  I can start in my own study where I have a little sign that quotes Thomas Jefferson, “I cannot live without books…” – not true of me, but I do enjoy my books!  We have a series of pictures with words in caps and bold, words like ELEGANCE, SPLENDOR, IMAGINE, and GRACE.  Each picture has a phrase that seeks to help the viewer to internalize what those words mean.  Our guest room has a small picture with the words, “I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.”  We have a tapestry as you enter our home with the words, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”  And then things just get a bit whimsical.  A wall hanging that declares, “Today I Will Be Happier Than A Seagull With A French Fry,” and a clock in our bathroom that says… well, you can think about what a clock in a bathroom would say.  Our grandchildren’s favorite sign, one that they had to read several times before they understood, says “Day 3 Without Chocolate:  Lost Hearing In Left Eye.”   Beside that is a sign that reads, “I Don’t Drink Coffee To Wake Up, I Wake Up To Drink Coffee.”  A kitchen sign captures my wife well, “This Is My Happy Place” and “A Day Without Chocolate Can Make You Ugly!”  More serious and reflective is the plaque that reads, “Gratitude turns what we have into enough,” and a sign that reads “Welcome to Bear Country – Free Hugs,” something that has become more important to me in these days.

You understand, we like the reminders of joy, gratitude, and faith scattered around our house – the true, the noble, the right, the pure and lovely and all the rest.  But the one I ponder the most is different than all of these, pictured in this writing for you to see.  We purchased this plaque because we needed something to put on the wall in our bedroom, anything to give balance and interest.  We discovered it, read it quickly, and said, “It fits!”  Yes, it does, but in unexpected ways.  It is placed on the wall by my bed where I see it every day.  This is the place where I get my vitals twice a day for the doctor, connect to my dialysis, and many times just sit there on the side of the bed looking, reading what is there, praying.  I never realized how often I would gaze at the words on the plaque nor how they would become for me something that I would commit to each day and evaluate if I am living life well, making the most of these days.  Some words stand out, others you have to squint a bit, perhaps as we may have to do sometimes when we take time to examine our own lives.  But the words are good words, noble words, holy words in many ways, life words meant to be put into practice, lived out:  Live joyfully.  Laugh abundantly.  Love affectionately. Give generously.  Smile spontaneously.  Hope eternally.  Listen carefully.  Forgive freely.  Play adventurously.  Hug tightly.  And always remember, you are loved. 

Yes, they are just words, words that can be ignored and forgotten, just as the actions they speak about can be unheeded and absent in our lives.  But they can also become more than just words, they can become a daily measure of life, an opportunity to take a personal inventory, an occasion to commit yourself on a daily basis to the basics, the fundamentals of a life lived well, the embodiment of what it means to follow Jesus wherever He leads us, words that become actions and more – they become a reminder that, whatever season of life we may find ourselves in, whatever struggles or darkness may be ours, we can choose day-after-day to live life to the fullest in the days we have on this earth.

Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy – do more than just think about such things, live such things! You may not have this plaque on the wall but you understand the words – why not make them a part of how you will live today, tomorrow, and however many more tomorrows you may have on this earth.