Psalm 90

A Prayer of Moses, the man of God. 

1 Lord, you have been our dwelling place [Some Hebrew manuscripts (compare Septuagint) our refuge] in all generations.

2 Before the mountains were brought forth,  or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.

If the superscription is correct, this is likely the oldest psalm in the Psalter, so it’s fitting that the psalm is a meditation on time. It is classified as a wisdom psalm and there is much here, beginning with the beginning. The psalm is addressed to adonai, Lord, in the second person, “You have been our home from generation to generation”. This is particularly significant given the fact that this psalm was sung at times when the Jewish temple was not standing. The tabernacle (built during the days of Moses) and later the temple were understood to be the dwelling place of God on earth, the space where heaven and earth touched. But these verses express a deeper reality: we are living in God. He is our home and so we are never homeless no matter what state we find ourselves in. Books 4 and 5 were likely collected during the exile in Babylon and used thereafter in the return from the exile. The beginning of the psalm reminded the worshipers of God’s faithfulness from generation to generation. Think of all the generations from Abraham to the present where the faith had been passed down. Adonai was the constant. In fact, God (and the author uses the oldest name for God, El here) has been God before there were any generations. Before there were people and mountains, there was God. God is understood to have brought forth (birthed) the mountains and formed the earth (the land) and the world (all that filled it). He is from everlasting to everlasting, that is, eternal, without beginning or end, the timeless one. This meditation on time begins with an acknowledgement that God is the Timeless One. He is not bound by it as we are. He is eternally present, and he is our home forever. We can rest in this reality: God is and forever will be. The world and its people will change, kingdoms and nations will rise and fall, but God will remain the supreme and exclusive Lord of time. 

3 You return man to dust and say, “Return, O children of man!” [Or of Adam]

4 For a thousand years in your sight are but as yesterday when it is past, or as a watch in the night.

The contrast stated in verse 3 could not be sharper. While God is eternally unchanging, God returns man to the dust from which he was made. “Return O sons of Adam!” God commands, and we obey. Like the mountains that are made of dust and are birthed by God, so human beings are born and die in a relatively short span, and we’re not nearly as old as the hills! The word for dust simply is “something that is crushed, pulverized). This is a hard truth, but it is a reality. As much as we try to preserve our bodies after death, they ultimately return to dust as the national processes of decay assume lordship over us. We cannot stop what is inevitable. Moses may be writing this in his old age, at least that’s how I’ve always imagined it. So he knows what he is writing. He has watched his body deteriorate from a good-looking young prince of Egypt to a wrinkled bowed and bald old man. If I were to live 120 years, I would look the same. Even a man who had an extraordinary life, and a long one at that, cannot beat death. It always wins. And while a millennia seems like an eternity from the perspective of a 120 year old man, it is like yesterday for God, or like a watch in the night (a few hours). Moses will drive home this point in the verses that follow. Our lives are short in duration, so make something of your life. Do something that will outlive you. This is the only way you can approach the timelessness of God. This psalm is also quite humbling. As highly as we might think of ourselves, we are still dirt. While we are image bearers of God, made for an eternal relationship with him, our bodies are not built to last. They are just another example of planned obsolescence. Living in them as long as we do, we long to have something better: bones that do not break, joints that do not ache, and memories that do not fade. Maybe that is the point. Our bodies themselves remind us that we need God. We need to make Him our dwelling place, not these temporary earth suits. I try to take care of my body so that I can inhabit it as long as possible, but in the end, the years will exact their tax and I will be left helpless, confined to a bed until I breath my last. All the more reason to make today count by living in recognition of my own mortality. 

5 You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream, like grass that is renewed in the morning:

6 in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers.

The psalmist employs three metaphors to emphasize the brevity of human life. In contrast to the everlasting God, even a long life on earth is teeny tiny. The first metaphor is that of a flood. In the ancient world (and the modern world for that matter), people chose to live near water for obvious reasons. It was key to life. But it could also bring a hasty death and loss of everything. This happened enough that floodwaters are a frequent metaphor for death and disaster in the psalms. While flooding is much less of a problem in the world these days because of flood control measures, people still die from floods and what always shocks us is the suddenness of it. The same is true of death. We are shocked by the suddenness and finality of it. The waters rise quickly and carry everything away and then just as quickly they subside. Sometimes death comes suddenly, swiftly and surprisingly. The second metaphor is that of a dream. This may be referring to the fact that we can’t remember dreams very well. Even the most vivid dream, if we do not tell it over and over, is forgotten. So it is with life. As we live out our days, most of them are forgotten. We can keep a few vivid memories alive by retelling them or preserving them now in film, but the vast majority of the day to day living is forgotten. We dream every night, but can only recall a handful of those dreams. So it is with life. It is soon forgotten. The third metaphor is that of grass, used by Isaiah, James, and Jesus as a symbol of brevity. It is renewed in the morning by the dew, but by evening it is withered and ready to be harvested. So is our life -- renewed, energetic, full of promise in the morning, but by evening, we are weak, slow, and spent. Whether death comes quickly like a flood or gradually like the withering of grass, it comes nonetheless. Wisdom demands that we live in an awareness of this reality.

7 For we are brought to an end by your anger; by your wrath we are dismayed.

8 You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins in the light of your presence.

“We are consumed by your anger and terrified by your wrath.” Much is made of God’s wrath. Modern people reject the idea of a wrathful God as something pre-modern and barbaric, choosing instead to embrace the modern mush God who has no moral standards except the ones I like. Humans experience the wrath of God as the natural consequence of sin. Violations of moral law have moral, physical, emotional, social and spiritual consequences. One of those consequences is death itself. Death entered the world through Adam, and God would not be just if he did not punish sin (that is, set up a world in which there are consequences for violating moral laws). The psalmist reminds us that the inevitability of death is linked to our behavior. Our iniquities are set before God. He sees them. They are sitting right in front of him. Even our secrets are illuminated in the light of his presence. Everything in all creation is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give an account (Hebrews 4:13). You are silly if you think that God doesn’t know your secret sins. People are very good at hiding their junk and putting on a smiling face. But you are never deceiving God. As a result, we feel guilt and we understand at least rationally that God is justified in his wrath. So not only do we face physical death, the end of our conscious existence on earth, but we also face the judgment of God -- both in this life and the next. Now the psalmist doesn’t allude to the afterlife here or to final judgment. He is describing death as a consequence of sin. but the final judgment is a matter of Christian theology as the previous passage cited from Hebrews reminds us. Jesus spoke of the final judgment frequently as well. And so we read this text through that lens. I will stand before God and give an account of my iniquities and secret sins. If that doesn’t scare the bejeebers out of you, I don’t know what would.

9 For all our days pass away under your wrath; we bring our years to an end like a sigh.

10 The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span [Or pride] is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.

The psalmist concludes this portion of his meditation on the brevity of life with some final metaphors. First, “our days pass away under your wrath” tells us that God’s wrath is the norm. Every day we are living with the consequences of our sin and the sin of others. It poisons relationships and makes work much more difficult. This is the result of the curse that God pronounced in Genesis 3. Work is made harder by the presence of sin. Extra effort must be taken to secure that which we produce so that it is not stolen. In a world without crime, without sin, human beings could be incredibly productive. Instead we groan under the burden of sin -- ours and others. Our years come to an end like a sigh. The word “sigh” is from the root hagah, literally a groan, a mumble, a moan, a growl, but often translated as “meditate”. The older I get, the more sighing I do. It is a resignation when something bad happens -- “Well, that’s just the way things are, [sigh].” A good long life then (and now) is 70 to 80 years. We all would like to think we’d live much longer, but every year longer brings more challenges -- mobility issues, teeth loss, aches and pains, grief from the passing of family and friends younger than us, and an ever growing list of things that we can no longer do. Old age is not for the faint of heart. Looking back, most of our days, and even the best of our days, are toil and trouble. I imagine this was particularly true in the pre-modern era where survival depended on manual labor. Even today in the modern world with all of its conveniences, we still manage to fill our days with work and stress. It is a struggle, just of a different type. I don’t have the data, but I’m going to suggest that we are no more happier than the ancients. The days of our lives are soon gone and we fly away. This is likely not a reference to the afterlife, but rather another metaphor. Just as a bird quickly lights into flight and is gone, so is our life. Before you know it, we are gone. The people that we love are here one moment and gone the next, or so it seems. This may seem like a very negative view of life, but it is an honest one. This sets us up for what comes next in the psalm, the wisdom that we gain from this recognition of the brevity of life.
11 Who considers the power of your anger, and your wrath according to the fear of you?

12 So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.

We might live 70-80 years if we’re lucky, but we also might experience God’s wrath sooner (his wrath being the consequence of our sin). Sin brought death into the world. Accidents, negligence, crime, injustice -- all of these can bring about a shortened lifespan. The psalmist asks a rhetorical question, “Who knows the power of your anger for as is the fear of you, so is your wrath?” The answer is that no one knows this power, and we certainly don’t know ahead of time when we will experience God’s wrath as the full weight of the curse of Adam comes down on us and we return to dust. Because we don’t know that, the psalmist offers his first bit of direct wisdom. “Cause us to know the number of our days so that we may get a heart of wisdom.” If you knew the date of your death would it change the way you lived? I think so. Back when I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, I really began to contemplate my own possible death. With a wife and young children I thought a lot about what their world might look like if I were gone. I’d like to think that I lived more intentionally knowing I might have an earlier expiration date. That feeling has stayed with me ever since, and it has caused me to act more intentionally and to consider what type of legacy I am leaving. I may live another 50 years, 5 years or 5 days, so the question is, am I making the most of today? Am I living as if it were my last? Have I said all that I need to say, forgiven all that I need to forgive, taught all that I need to teach? This verse may be the single most clarifying time management question in the Bible. Weigh your actions today in light of your expiration date. What are you doing that is of lasting value? Do more of those things and less of the things that will soon be forgotten. 

13 Return, O LORD! How long? Have pity on your servants!

14 Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.

15 Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, and for as many years as we have seen evil.

Having asked for wisdom through the knowledge of our mortality, the psalmist launches into a series of petitions. First, “return, O LORD, how long?” which seems to be a request for God’s presence in a season where we feel abandoned. Times of death and sorry certainly make us feel like God has left us alone, so our first cry is for presence. If life is short and difficult, at least give us some satisfaction with your presence. Second, “Have pity on your servants.” Show us compassion. Be gentle to us; we’re just trying to serve you. Then a prayer for satisfaction. Rather than a life of striving for that which cannot be obtained, may we be satisfied with your steadfast love. May this be enough so that we don’t waste our years chasing after the wrong things. If we do this, we may be able to rejoice and be glad every day, even in hard times. The word for “be glad” is particularly strong, and is often translated as “give a ringing cry” or “shout with joy”. This makes me think of worship. We can worship and even celebrate in the face of death itself if we are satisfied with God’s steadfast love. Finally, the psalmist asks for something a little more modest, perhaps realizing that it’s difficult to have such joy every day. He asks that we might have gladness for as many days as we have affliction and for as many years as we have seen evil. In other words, he’s asking for a 50-50 proposition, an equal number of good and bad days. Life in the ancient world was so much more difficult than ours that this feels about right. Life expectancy was half of what it is now, infant mortality was high, medical care was limited so every injury could be life-threatening and at the least life-altering. Famine and natural disasters were always looming in addition to the human toll of war as nations constantly jostled for power and land. Asking for an equal number of good days to bad days seems fair and reasonable. Having some gratitude for our modern conveniences seems to be in order. These are the result of human creativity and work, things that ought to be celebrated and encouraged in healthy societies. Most of my days are good, and for that I am grateful.  

16 Let your work be shown to your servants, and your glorious power to their children.

17 Let the favor [Or beauty] of the LORD our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands!

The psalmist concludes his petitions with these four requests. First, “Let your work be shown to your servants.” Let us see your hand at work in our lives and in our world. Let us see evidence of your presence and actions among us. God is working. He hasn’t just set the world in motion and then sat back to watch it spin down. Jesus affirmed this is John 9 -- the Father is working, so you work while it is day. Night is coming when no one can work. Let us have those “aha” moments of worship where we see God’s hand clearly at work. Second, may our children see these as well. May we raise our children with eyes to see what we have seen, with the knowledge  that God is at work in their lives and in this world. May we pass the faith on to the next generation, knowing that we will not always be around to do so. Third, “let the beauty/favor of the LORD God be upon us.” May we experience God’s good grace. May there be evidence of his blessing, compassion, and steadfast love all the days of our lives. Even in darkness, may our faces shine with his reflected light and beauty. The psalmist makes his final request twice, repeating it for emphasis. “Establish the work of our hands.” May we build things that last. These are the things that last: my family, my friendships, my kingdom work. May the fruit of my labor live on long past my death. May I be able to look back in my old age, (assuming God keeps me around that long), and see a lifetime of fruit, good works that made a difference in the lives of others. May I leave an example that is worthy for others to follow. May my footsteps show the way to others, a path to the good life and to life eternal. May the things that I do today matter for eternity. Establish the work of my hands. Yes Lord, establish the work of my hands.