Life on the Seas of Death

Secular man may learn how to survive, but he does not know how to live. Because he knows not why he lives. In his sin, he gropes in the dark for meaning. He knows he can wreck any day now. He knows he will eventually hit the bottom. A forced sailor, he is born into this wild and raging sea of life he does not understand. He shudders to sink. He strives to stay aloft as long as possible. Yet he is moving, dragged toward somewhere — but where?

He discovers what pleases him and what makes time on these waters better or worse. Yet eat and drink as he may, the question finds him under silent stars — why am I here? The current of time, murmuring something, sends you on, ever on. Some sail slowly over decades. Others, days. Who decides? You don’t know. All you know is that you awake and find yourself sailing through a passing life you know not why, toward a place you know not where, for a length of time you cannot tell. You wish for fair winds and a few friends before you disappear. You want someone to notice when you’re gone.

While many of Adam’s fallen philosophers close their ears to revelation higher than themselves, the God who made us did not leave us answerless. Moses, the man of God, climbs into our boat to help us navigate the way. In Psalm 90, he teaches a generation wandering the wilderness, on the brink of great promise, how to navigate by the heavens, directing them (and us) toward God, our own death, and a fitting prayer as we hasten to our end (and a new beginning).

Eternal Anchor

Lord, you have been our dwelling place
     in all generations.
Before the mountains were brought forth,
     or ever you had formed the earth and the world,
     from everlasting to everlasting you are God. (Psalm 90:1–2)

Moses reaches back before time. Back before mountains towered toward the heavens, back before earth or wilderness or sea existed, back when only one could be found: God. “From everlasting to everlasting you are God.” So many sail without wisdom or purpose because they forget the God who outlives the seas. Made the seas. Placed us on them.

You will never find your purpose if you think you must invent it. You are a poor god, a fragile idol, a shabby alpha and omega. Should the thing created say to itself, “I shall create my own purpose for being”?

Mid-voyage, Moses recalls the God of the seas. Search all the way back; there he is. Fast forward to the very end and beyond; he sits enthroned. He was, is, and will forever be. To know who we are, we must start with who God is. The oceans are his art. The stars are his sermon. Man reflects his image.

You did not just appear in a boat going nowhere. Currently, you float within the final chapters of an epic conceived from everlasting, extending to everlasting. One authored by God, featuring God’s Son, and read to the eternal benefit of God’s people.

So Moses reminds us of God. He is, always is. Time cannot contain him. Moses introduces us to God and locates our little lives within the infinite bounds of his own existence. In him we live and move and have our being. And this, in a unique way for his people: “Lord, you have been our dwelling place.”

Navigator’s Prayer

Next, he teaches us about life by teaching us about our death. Here, we do not leave the first point but further it. God ever lives, and we always die. For romantic man, death is a fading upon the horizon, a descent below the waters, two lovers staring at each other as the ship sinks. Moses gives us another image.

You return man to dust
     and say, “Return, O children of man!” (Psalm 90:3)

He continues,

You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream,
     like grass that is renewed in the morning:
in the morning it flourishes and is renewed;
     in the evening it fades and withers.

For we are brought to an end by your anger;
     by your wrath we are dismayed.
You have set our iniquities before you,
     our secret sins in the light of your presence.

For all our days pass away under your wrath;
     we bring our years to an end like a sigh.
The years of our life are seventy,
     or even by reason of strength eighty;
yet their span is but toil and trouble;
     they are soon gone, and we fly away.
Who considers the power of your anger,
     and your wrath according to the fear of you? (verses 5–11)

Man’s life was to be a connection, a fellowship, and an enjoyment and glorifying of his God. But man chose sin and, with it, death. “In the day that you eat of it you shall surely die” (Genesis 2:17). And so God returns man to the dust. He dispels him like a dream; passes him away with a sigh. His anger causes man to fly away; the ship breaks. Fallen life is fragile and fugitive.

We live in a day and we die in a day and then enter into the shoreless forever. What will become of us? Beneath, Leviathan. Above, the God of the Leviathan, who takes offense at you in your sin. We have no hope but for a gracious God.

“To know who we are, we must start with who God is.”

So, we realize that our life, frail and fleeting, is found within the grand context of the life of God against whom we have sinned. Our death is not natural but judicial, an act by God’s righteous decree. What shall we do? Moses’s answer is to pray. But pray for what?

Teach Us to Tell Time

So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:12)

So much wasting of life, so much reckless living, so little thought of forever. We are men and women who spend all our energies trying to make the short trip comfortable; we forget where we sail. Sinners are so casual about their souls, so careless about the next life. We need God to instruct us on how to make the most of our days. We need his help to count our days, redeem our moments, and keep pace with sprinting time. We need hearts that see God in all things and trust him with our sin, our souls, our salvation — now and always. Jesus Christ — living a perfect life, dying in our place, and rising from the dead, soon to return — is what hearts of wisdom chiefly believe and delight in.

Pity Your Servants

Return, O LORD! How long? Have pity on your servants! (Psalm 90:13)

He teaches us to regard our Lord as master indeed, drawing on the covenant name given to Israel: Yahweh. Apart from any gracious covenant, all that God can remember is how treacherous we’ve been toward him and how he owes us immediate and unrelenting wrath. But he made a first covenant with Israel, and he makes a new covenant with all who believe in Jesus Christ and repent of their sins. Before we return to dust, we must each cry out to our Lord to return to his servants with pity. We can safely ask him to come to us only after we have gone to him through his Son by his Spirit.

Satisfy Our Hearts

Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,
     that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.
Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,
     and for as many years as we have seen evil. (Psalm 90:14–15)

These days can pass miserable and empty. We need satisfaction; we need it early, and we find it, if we find it, in his steadfast love. No matter what our days contain, if they are contained within his love, we can be glad all our days. So many turn their vessel toward what they think will make them happy. But here Moses makes clear what will make man happy: God. And he pleads with God to satisfy them for as many days as he has afflicted them.

Establish Our Work

Work is such a toil when death approaches so speedily. “What’s the point?” as the sage in Ecclesiastes asks. Born in futility, labor in futility, die in futility. But Moses teaches us to plead for more:

Let your work be shown to your servants,
     and your glorious power to their children.
Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us,
     and establish the work of our hands upon us;
     yes, establish the work of our hands! (Psalm 90:16–17)

We need God working in our working. Our work is cursed; we need his blessing. Our labor is futile; we need his favor. Moses teaches us to pray for it. Unless the Lord builds the house, those who labor labor in vain.

Ancient Prayer for Modern Times

We live our lives in reference to the everlasting-to-everlasting God. Our death is a consequence of our sin and Adam’s sin; justice demands capital punishment. Yet Moses teaches us about life. He teaches us how to pray. We cry out to God for wisdom, for pity, for satisfaction, for him to establish his works in ours.

Those who find themselves on board are not here by accident. We were placed on this sea, but we are not alone. We sail under God toward God. When we die, we return to God. And in the meantime, those who are wise, who have learned the secrets to living, will cry out to Jesus Christ, their hiding place from the wrath to come.

Then death will not prove to be the beginning of our miseries but the beginning of our true life.