Life is more than a countdown

Sunday Teaching

Jun 20

Written By Greg McNichols

The full video of this teaching is available at the bottom of this post and this link.

LIFE IS SHORT, AND THAT MESSES WITH US

He has his first child at 40 and, while holding the newborn, thinks, “Man, how am I just now starting this journey?”.

My classmates have all picked a college already.

You look at your credit card balance and think, “How have I not figured this out by now?”.

Different ages. Different time pressures.

Same ache: I’m not where I thought I’d be by now.

And time keeps moving.

You feel it, don’t you? The clock ticking. The calendar turning. The weight of time moving faster than you'd like to admit.

When I posted this question on Facebook—“Life is short. What kind of pressure, urgency, anxiety, or clarity does that reality stir up in you?”—the responses came fast. And they were honest.

“Not enough time with my loved ones... it stirs up anxiety.”

“The feeling of having to make every second count.”

“Just blink” okay now I’m scared to blink lol.”

Someone else shared how the reality of time hit hard when their best friend died by suicide at 30. Suddenly, the truth wasn’t abstract anymore. Life really is short. One shot. One story. And as she said, “I don’t want to spend my life waiting for the perfect moment to live it.”

That’s the tension.

You feel the pressure to make every moment matter…
but you’re drowning in a schedule.

You want to live meaningfully…
but you're distracted and overwhelmed.

And in our culture—where productivity is king, every day reminds you what you should be doing. “Life is short” starts to sound like a threat instead of a truth.

So what do we do with that? Psalm 90 has something to say about that.

TWO NOTES ABOUT PSALM 90

Note 1: In Psalm 90, Moses touches on God’s eternal nature (v. 2), His holiness and justice (vv. 7–9), the reality of human sin (v. 8), and our need for mercy and renewal (vv. 13–15). All of it matters deeply. And I’ve addressed those themes in other recent teachings. So because I see so many of us living with the quiet pressure around our calendars and tasks, I’ll be focusing on the theology of life’s brevity in this Psalm (vv. 3–6, 9–10, 12).

Note 2: Psalm 90 is a prayer from Moses. And that matters. This is a man who knew what it was to wait. He had watched an entire generation take forty years to make what should have been a three-week journey. He was their leader on that journey, and he never reached the finish line himself. He had buried people he loved. He had carried both deep regret and a sense of calling. And now, near the end of his life, he doesn’t offer a strategy. He offers a prayer.

OUR LIFE IN MONTHS

When we’re young, time moves too slowly. We race to grow up—counting birthdays, waiting to turn ten, then thirteen, then sixteen so we can drive, then graduation. We dream of freedom, wishing time would just speed up. But somewhere along the way, the clock turns on us.

And the mirror starts talking. It says, “Hey, your hair’s thinning.” Then it pokes, “Those wrinkles? They’re starting to look like a street map.” And then it jokes, “Those bags under your eyes? You could check them as carry-on luggage!”

And that’s when it hits us. What Moses wrote in Psalm 90:5–6 is true: “We are swept away like dreams… like grass that springs up in the morning but withers by evening.” Then, as followers of Christ, we begin to grasp something deeper—“a thousand years are like a day to God” (Psalm 90:4). And suddenly, the shortness of our lives isn’t just a feeling—it’s a fact.

Psalm 90:12 in the NIV starts with, “Teach us to number our days…”. When we combine that with a “Months of Our Lives” chart, anxiety starts to build. Like my friend Brea said, it makes us afraid to blink.

This approach to time turns our lives into a checklist.

A race we’re always losing.

We feel like we should’ve done more by now.
Been more by now.
Figured it out by now.

But let’s look at the whole verse (Psalm 90:12, NLT) and see if it might not be telling us how to do math:

“Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom.”

That word realize is doing a lot of work. It’s not just about counting days—it’s about feeling them. Paying attention. Letting the shortness of life shape something in us, not just pressure something out of us.

This verse isn’t saying, “Life is short—hurry up.” It’s saying, “Life is short—grow wise.”

That shift matters. Because urgency without wisdom just leads to burnout. Wisdom slows us down enough to see what matters and wakes us up enough to live like it does.

WISDOM INSIDE LIMITATION

I like the way the NIV puts it in Psalm 90:12, “that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” The point of this prayer isn’t to do life-math and depress us with how fragile we are.

We spend so much of our lives trying to stretch time, avoid pain, dodge limits, stay young, live forever. But here’s the thing—God doesn’t teach us wisdom by expanding our lives. He teaches us wisdom inside the smallness. Inside the seventy, maybe eighty years (v. 10). Inside the fact that we don’t get to be in control. And once we stop fighting our time limits, we start to see that God meets us within them.

Your number of years in this life isn’t your enemy. It’s your classroom. The shortness, the fragility, the things you can’t fix or extend—that’s where wisdom gets formed (see also vv. 3–6, 9). And Psalm 90? It’s not asking God to remove those limits. It’s asking Him to teach us how to live wisely within them.

LIMITED TIME IS BEAUTIFUL

Psalm 90 refuses to let time be random, mechanical, or just a long list of appointments and deadlines. The brevity of our lives, in this psalm, is sacred. It’s saturated with meaning—even when it feels small (see vv. 5–6).

About me: I know what it’s like to look at the week ahead and just see stuff. Tasks. Meetings. Obligations. Heck, I’m wired for that. I’m a full-on Type A, INTJ, Enneagram 8 wing 7 (for you personality test nerds). I’m wired to optimize, to plan ten steps ahead, to build systems that make the most of time. But Psalm 90 pushes back. It asks me to see time not as a resource to dominate but a gift to steward. In my mind, I want to conquer time. But in my heart, I want to learn how to live the moments inside it.

That shift is jarring. It means sometimes not getting the most out of my day, but being fully present in it. And for someone like me—who thrives on forward motion—that kind of rootedness takes real work. I have to be intentional. I have to let God teach me. And honestly? I’m still learning.

LIVE WELL INSIDE IT

One of the most powerful things about Psalm 90 is what it doesn’t do. It doesn’t flinch at the reality that our lives are short. It doesn’t sugarcoat our limits. It doesn’t rush past the uncomfortable. It just tells the truth—God is eternal (v. 2), and our time on this side of heaven is not (v. 5).

And that clarity is a gift.

Moses’ prayer cuts through the fog we’ve been living in. We start to notice how much of our time has been shaped by urgency instead of intention. How often we’ve chased the tyranny of the immediate instead of what lasts.

But Psalm 90 doesn’t leave us stuck in regret. It invites us into rhythm. Alignment. A way of living well that doesn’t drift and doesn’t rush. A way that doesn’t ignore our time limits—but listens to them. Learns from them. Lives wisely inside of them.

When we pray, “Teach us to number our days,” we’re not asking God to give us more hours. We’re asking Him to show us how to walk with Him in the hours we already have. Not just surviving the schedule. But being present. On purpose. Awake to what matters.

Because we don’t get to control how long we live.

But we do get to decide how well we live the life we’ve been given.

SPIRITUAL EXERCISE FOR THIS WEEK

If you and I were sitting down, I’d look you in the eye and say—you don’t have to escape your schedule or your stage of life to find meaning. You don’t have to chase some perfect version of your life to find peace. The invitation is to live wisely inside what’s real. To walk with humility. To carry awareness. To line your steps up with God’s. Because the goal isn’t to stretch time out. The goal is to align with the One who holds it.

Remember, I’m wired to conquer time. But this psalm doesn’t give me a strategy to squeeze more in—it gives me a prayer. And that challenges me. Because I don’t need more hacks. I need less pressure to dominate time. More surrender to walk wisely in it.

So here’s what I’m learning to do—not perfectly, but intentionally.

And maybe it’ll help you too.

Let’s take this challenge up together this week—to help us actually live Psalm 90.

Start your day with Psalm 90:12. Before the screen lights up or the notifications buzz, pause and pray: “Teach me to realize the brevity of life, so that I may grow in wisdom.” Not as a formula. As a reset. A reminder that today isn’t yours to just conquer—it’s God’s to shape.
Pick one moment and be fully present. Choose a single task, meeting, or conversation—and give it your full attention. No multitasking. No mental sprinting. Just be there. Presence is where wisdom takes root.
Block some margin. Treat it like a meeting. Non-negotiable. A half hour to walk, breathe, or be still. Not to be productive—but to stay grounded.
Count grace, not just tasks. At day’s end, jot down three gifts. Small mercies. Reminders that even the shortest days can still be full of God’s goodness.

Because no, we don’t get to stretch the time.

But we can let God stretch our awareness.

And that shift?

That’s what wisdom looks like.

Greg McNichols