Psalm 90:4
For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night.
As a child I never understood this verse. The older I get, the more I comprehend how quickly time passes. Just this last week a friend commented that Disney's Arial/mermaid story is not classified as a "classic" or "antique" because it is officially 20 years old. WHAT? I remember when that came out! I was in college and we watched it in the dorm lounge and laughed because one of the girls had the poster up in her room and the residence hall monitor made a construction paper top and covered Arial's top half during room inspections and that was...20 years ago. Sometimes it still seems like yesterday.
And in the midst of all this reflection, I read Genesis 5 that talks about Enoch/Enos (depending on the translation) who "was not, for God took him." I've read that many a time, heard several sermons on it (Side Note: my favorite from age ten, hearing Connie Carriker's sermon at the Alabama State FWB meeting, where he was doing high kicks back and forth across the stage and pumping his arm with every point, and never missing a beat while yelling: "The Russians have their cosmonauts, the Americans have their astronauts, but we Christians should want to be the WASnots!" On the way home I told Dad that man was WAY fatter than him, so why didn't Dad whoop and holler like that while preaching? It would be much more exciting. My Dad just replied "Hhmmpph.") but as a child had always pondered why it was such a big deal to be taken at such an old age. Reading that passage through this time, along with a historical footnote or two about other historical documents (non-biblical) that dealt with the longevity, the flood, and the decreasing life spans, it made me realize that Enoch's life ended 1/3 earlier than most people. That would be like a 20 year old dying today.
Years ago when our friend Will died, a senior in college, our church grieved and hurt like nothing I had ever seen. It didn't help any that he was an only child. That pain is still very poignant for those who were very close to him, though nowhere near like it was. I remember the questions, the shaking of heads, the tears...such a fervent,Christ-filled life...suddenly gone...and so young! And yet, that was the way it was with Enoch. It suddenly gave me a different perspective on Will's death, as well as the death of 7 year old Lydia Byrd. Don't you think Enoch's friends and families felt the same way, even though he had lived many years? But God took him because "he walked with God." Even if I live to be 100, I hope my name will not be listed with just a date and the fact I had no children, but that my life will be so extra-ordinarily different that people will have to make note of it.
My mother-in-law made the statement recently that a long obituary really isn't necessary when a person dies, for people who know you will remember greatly how you impacted their lives and won't need to be reminded. I agree with her point. The things I remember about people are usually not what is mentioned in the obituary, but I also remember how important it was for me to have a clipping of my grandparents' obituaries in the paper. It was like learning about a secret life they had that I didn't know existed.
When I look at the time perspective, I'm certain the things I pester God with day in and day out seem like the petty whining of a child: it will all be irrelevant in a few years, which to him is just the blink of an eye. Which makes me wonder: do angels travel through time?
For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night.
As a child I never understood this verse. The older I get, the more I comprehend how quickly time passes. Just this last week a friend commented that Disney's Arial/mermaid story is not classified as a "classic" or "antique" because it is officially 20 years old. WHAT? I remember when that came out! I was in college and we watched it in the dorm lounge and laughed because one of the girls had the poster up in her room and the residence hall monitor made a construction paper top and covered Arial's top half during room inspections and that was...20 years ago. Sometimes it still seems like yesterday.
And in the midst of all this reflection, I read Genesis 5 that talks about Enoch/Enos (depending on the translation) who "was not, for God took him." I've read that many a time, heard several sermons on it (Side Note: my favorite from age ten, hearing Connie Carriker's sermon at the Alabama State FWB meeting, where he was doing high kicks back and forth across the stage and pumping his arm with every point, and never missing a beat while yelling: "The Russians have their cosmonauts, the Americans have their astronauts, but we Christians should want to be the WASnots!" On the way home I told Dad that man was WAY fatter than him, so why didn't Dad whoop and holler like that while preaching? It would be much more exciting. My Dad just replied "Hhmmpph.") but as a child had always pondered why it was such a big deal to be taken at such an old age. Reading that passage through this time, along with a historical footnote or two about other historical documents (non-biblical) that dealt with the longevity, the flood, and the decreasing life spans, it made me realize that Enoch's life ended 1/3 earlier than most people. That would be like a 20 year old dying today.
Years ago when our friend Will died, a senior in college, our church grieved and hurt like nothing I had ever seen. It didn't help any that he was an only child. That pain is still very poignant for those who were very close to him, though nowhere near like it was. I remember the questions, the shaking of heads, the tears...such a fervent,Christ-filled life...suddenly gone...and so young! And yet, that was the way it was with Enoch. It suddenly gave me a different perspective on Will's death, as well as the death of 7 year old Lydia Byrd. Don't you think Enoch's friends and families felt the same way, even though he had lived many years? But God took him because "he walked with God." Even if I live to be 100, I hope my name will not be listed with just a date and the fact I had no children, but that my life will be so extra-ordinarily different that people will have to make note of it.
My mother-in-law made the statement recently that a long obituary really isn't necessary when a person dies, for people who know you will remember greatly how you impacted their lives and won't need to be reminded. I agree with her point. The things I remember about people are usually not what is mentioned in the obituary, but I also remember how important it was for me to have a clipping of my grandparents' obituaries in the paper. It was like learning about a secret life they had that I didn't know existed.
When I look at the time perspective, I'm certain the things I pester God with day in and day out seem like the petty whining of a child: it will all be irrelevant in a few years, which to him is just the blink of an eye. Which makes me wonder: do angels travel through time?
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