“Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

Psalms 90:12(NIV)

I could see the road approaching, chasing us as it had somewhere to go. My cab driver, a 30-something fast talker, was leaning on his slightly older than age Toyota Corolla steering, almost hugging it, to have better visibility. All of a sudden, a giraffe-high white Land Cruiser came approaching from the wrong side of the road. It had taken the wrong turn and ended up charging toward us at cheetah speed. I watched it approach, coming too close to giving us a bear hug. Then my driver did an almost God-inspired maneuver on that old Toyota of his, stopping us on the roadside, missing the guard rails by a dog’s hair. So close. That was so close last night!

When we see our life flash before our eyes like that, we get a new perspective on life. For all of us who have had near-death experiences before, we understand what it means to get a quick life review in a split second. Some of us do the same at funerals. We start reflecting on how we have lived our lives. Some of us even make new resolutions; resolutions to live better, to love better, and to choose better. But we don’t. We forget as soon as the experience passes. Until another one comes along.

The great psalmist once wrote in Psalm 90:12 saying, “So teach us to consider our mortality, so that we might live wisely.” Truth is, God has put a timeline on this life. There is scientific proof that we will not live forever. But we daily choose to live like we are some Bristlecone Pine tree that will outlive all its contemporaries of the animal species. We are not and we won’t. We will all die one day.

I don’t know what choices you will make with your life today. I don’t know who you will choose to love or hate today. But one thing is sure: you don’t have all the time in the world so you better start picking and choosing. Doing the things that matter the most while you still have time.

We will all wake up one day and realize we are gone; gone too soon before we could hug before we could love before we could live before we could buy that meal for that starving family we have always passed by in the neighborhood.