I’m writing from my in-laws’ home in Minnesota, where our family has gathered to lay to rest my wife’s grandmother—lovingly known to us all as “Gram.” Gram passed away after a long battle with Parkinson’s disease. Once energetic and full of life, she gradually lost the ability to move and speak, her body weakened by the slow and ravaging effects of the degenerative disease. This is the fourth funeral I’ve attended in the last four and a half years of a close loved one. I’ve said goodbye to my younger brother Josiah, my cousin Lena, my Grandma Pat, and now Gram.

In the moments of contemplation these funerals have brought, I’ve found myself drawn to a section of Psalm 90, where Moses prays: “…teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12). I can’t think of any more obvious or better time where people come face to face with the “number of their days” than at a funeral. Quite literally, a central part of a funeral focuses on the number of the deceased’s days. The message or bulletin often says, “___ was born on ____ day and entered eternal rest on ______, at the age of _____.” 

How often, outside of a funeral, do you take time to contemplate the brevity of your life? Or better yet, how often do you think about the brevity of your life in a way that it leads to a lasting change - “gaining a heart of wisdom”? If you’re like me, the moments of sober contemplation tend to be just a blip on the radar as we are drawn back into the normalcy of a scheduled life. It’s interesting that in this text Moses asks God to teach us to number our days. Apparently, this sort of change-inducing reflection doesn’t come naturally to us – we need God to teach it to us. There is presumably a sense in which we might number our days in a way that doesn’t lead to wisdom or change. 

Let us take time now to do what Moses is praying for. 

What does it mean to gain a “heart of wisdom”? 

One way to answer that is to look at Paul’s life, in particular the end of his life, as he reflected back in the waning days of his life on earth. Paul wrote to his pastoral protégé, Timothy, the following words as he looked back on his life: 

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who loved his appearing” (2 Timothy 4:7-8). 

In other words, I think Paul’s answer to the question about gaining a heart of wisdom would go something like this: gaining wisdom would be demonstrated by the extent to which it translates into “keeping the faith”. He illustrates keeping the faith by pointing to the life of a soldier or a runner (...”fought the good fight…finished the race”). In other words, the day-by-day Christ-exalting mission looks like a soldier fighting bravely and tirelessly to the end of a conquest, or a runner pushing through the point of physical exhaustion to finish a marathon. That’s how you can see a heart of wisdom has been gained - it is measured by “keeping the faith,” which is tangible and measurable, like running or fighting. 

How might this be measurable and tangible in the ordinary person's life? Circling back to Gram, this sort of spirit-empowered faith-keeping was tangible in her daily life:

• She spent a lot of time memorizing chunks of scripture and reciting them at family gatherings. One of the last family gatherings I recall, Gram recited all of Philippians 1, which includes the very apt passage: “...for me to live is Christ, and die is gain.”
• She prayed daily for every member of her extended family by name, and with specific requests; while she had the strength to write, she kept notecards of all of the prayer requests.
• Gram shared her testimony and the gospel with anyone she came in contact with in the nursing home - staff, visitors, and residents. When verbalizing it became too difficult, she had someone type it out and she handed printouts to everyone she bumped into.
• Until Gram was relegated to immobility, she served in numerous ministries of her local church.

Now, turning back to us. Here’s the invitation: consider this like a dress rehearsal for your death – not to be morbid, but to be wise as the text is beckoning us. Imagine yourself on the precipice of eternity. Now turn around and look backward at your life and make an assessment of your life up to the end – whether that comes in 2 weeks, or 40 years. Is it characterized by ferociously fighting hard, the good fight of faith? Or running hard like a marathon runner pushing through pain to secure a crown that lasts forever? If you can say “yes”, then I say to you: here’s some water for your marathon, keep running. Let me sharpen your sword for the next battle. Keep fighting.

If you can’t answer “yes” or you feel the daily struggle to fight or run, then I say to you: be filled with hope, joy, and courage. This is only a dress rehearsal. Pick up your sword, tie the laces of your running shoes, and grab ahold of the exhortation of Philippians 3:13-14 (in the present tense) “…[forget] what lies behind and [strain] forward to what lies ahead [press on] toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Jesus Christ.” Veritas, let us consider the end of our days, as short as they are, in a manner that leads us to Spirit-empowered fighting and running, today!