Our Frailty

April 9, 2020

In the late 19th century, science had begun opening new frontiers in which people began to imagine that the world was on an ever-upward trajectory. Liberal theologians from many Christian seminaries fueled this thinking with talk of “establishing the Kingdom of God.” The First World War brought all those fanciful ideals crashing to earth. The world was not getting better as they had hoped. Among other things, it was this theological failure in mainline denominations that became the impetus for the Fundamentalist movements of the ‘20’s that continue to this day. People often believe it was Darwin’s Origins of the Species that was the seedbed of Fundamentalism, mainly due to the notoriety of the Monkey (Scopes) Trials of William Jennings Bryan and Clarence Darrow, but it was the collapse of optimism ushered in by World War I that was the real culprit.

We are not in a dissimilar situation today. People are nervous at best, terrified at worse. The future which seemed so predictable and secure a mere three months ago now is a mysterious and dense landscape through which we cannot see. For those in the epicenters of COVID-19, their entire world has been engulfed in the conflagration. For those of us in more remote areas, while we may not be as directly affected, our lives have been completely upturned. The streets are empty, on this most Holy Week of the Jewish Christian year, houses of worship stand silent and empty. And the smallest cough or sore throat has us wondering, “Do I have it?”

This morning, as I was reading Psalm 39, verses 4 and 5 caught my eye. When I don’t know where else to turn or aren’t already in the middle of a Bible reading plan, the Psalms are my default. I read them by date. On the first day of the month, I read Psalm 1, 31, 61, 91, 121. On the second day it’s Psalm 2, 32, 62, 92, 122, and so on through the month. In a month’s time, I’ve read through the entire Psalter. It is a veritable trove of wisdom! Here are the verses that arrested me:

“LORD, make me to know my end, 

And what is the measure of my days, 

That I may know how frail I am. 

Indeed, You have made my days as handbreadths, 

And my age is as nothing before you; 

Certainly every man at his best state is but vapor.” 

When everything is going well, that is a rather sedate prayer, but when you face a life-threatening unknown, it is transformed into a bold and audacious prayer. But perhaps a prayer we should consider. We Americans tend to believe in the Horatio Alger stories (even if you’re young enough to never have heard of them), where the protagonist pulls himself up through overwhelming odds to triumph at the end. There is no problem we cannot solve if we work hard enough, believe strongly enough, and refuse to give up. That self-confidence has seen us through many a difficult time. 

I am thankful for those on the front lines working around the clock for cures, for those who fight through exhaustion to care for those critically ill, for the many who have stepped up and followed protocols, for the leadership we have been given which though flawed, is better than nothing at all. But perhaps this is a good time to step back from our arrogant American confidence for just a moment to consider the frailty of life. None of us is guaranteed another breath. I was shocked the other day to learn of the death in 2014 of George Donaldson, one of the members of Celtic Thunder. Of all the members of that troupe, Donaldson stood as the physical epitome of strength, but had a fatal heart attack in his sleep. He was only 46. To me, his signature song was “The Old Man,” a tender reminiscence of his father shortly after the latter’s death. 

The last verse was eerily prescient of his own untimely demise:

“I thought he’d live forever

He seemed so big and strong

But the minutes fly, the year as roll by

For a father and his son.

Then suddenly it happened—

There was so much left unsaid

No second chance to tell him thanks

For everything he’s done.”

It’s not a bad thing to consider our human frailty. Knowing it, we will appreciate more deeply each breath we are given, and the love and friendships we share with family and friends. Life is an amazing journey, filled with wonder that we so often miss simply because we take it for granted, thinking “there’s always tomorrow.” There’s not “always tomorrow.” But there is today, and for this day, for my wife, family, friends, and the gift you have all been to me, I am deeply grateful.