Twenty-two: Numbering Our Days
Job observed that his days were like a weaver’s shuttle, sliding along the loom so swiftly that the eye could hardly follow. I sympathize with the Old Testament saint’s assessment of how fast the days of his life seemed to pass. The older I get, the faster they go.
A few months ago, I received notice via social media that my high school graduating class was holding a fortieth anniversary reunion. How can it be that four decades have passed since I received my high school diploma? So very much has happened in the ensuing years: college, seminary, marriage, parenthood, travel, ministries, middle-age, and now grandchildren. It seems as if the time has sped by at an ever-accelerating rate.
I thought at first that I might attend the reunion. Perhaps I would renew some old acquaintances and maybe find opportunity to be a Christian witness to my former classmates. However, scheduling conflicts kept me from participating.
Following the reunion, I saw published online several pictures from the gathering. The coordinators evidently did an outstanding job organizing and decorating. Among the many pictures of smiling faces (that had all aged dramatically since I knew them!) one in particular drew my attention. It was not picture of an individual or group, but rather of a table displaying twenty-two framed graduation photographs. This was a memorial to the classmates who had died. Twenty-two.
As I scanned the pictures, I immediately recognized an old friend. When I was in grade school, he was probably my best friend. Time and change caused us to move in other directions as we went on to junior high and then high school. But as young boys we shared hobbies, rode bikes together, went camping. I smile when I recall the time this friend’s father took us to a professional wrestling match, and we sat ring side cheering wildly.
Concerning not just my elementary school pal, but all twenty-two, I wondered how or why they died? Were they victims of an accident? Did they die suddenly and surprisingly, or did they decline with a protracted illness? Did they leave behind spouses, or children not yet grown? Every life has its own story and its own ending.
Most significantly, I wondered about their eternal state. Were they, like Lazarus in the Lord’s parable, carried at death by angels to a place of rest and joy? Or did they awaken on the other side to find themselves lost forever?
I am quite sure that those who gathered for the reunion of the class of 1982 laughed and reminisced about teachers, ball games, pranks, proms, first cars, first jobs, teen romance, and all that made high school memorable. They no doubt shared about families, careers, special occasions, and accomplishments. But additional sober thoughts should have been prompted by the twenty-two, not of the past only, but of the future.
In spite of what is commonly thought, the future is not uncertain. It is quite clear and definite. Life is but a vapor that appears for little time and then vanishes away. (Jas 4:14) “It is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment.” (Heb. 9:27) The brevity of life and our accountability to God are both sure. The lesson of the twenty-two is not just their seemingly untimely departure from this life. It is that every member of my graduating class, and everyone else’s, will soon be numbered with them. Twenty-two can only increase. It never decreases.
Trust in Christ, His death and resurrection. God graciously grants eternal life to the chief of sinners who repents and trusts in Him. If you have trusted Christ, lay up treasures in heaven now. Do all the good you can while you can. David prayed, “Lord, make me to know mine end, and the number of my days…” (Ps 39:4) Moses wisely wrote, “So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.” (Ps 90:12)
Lord, help me to learn from the twenty-two.
David A. Oliver is the pastor of Ashley Baptist Church in Belding, MI.