Last month, our women’s ministry team at my church put on an event where we talked about stewardship of the resources God has given us. The event was inspired by Moses’ prayer in Psalm 90: “teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom” (v.12). We invited a panel of women from a variety of ages and stages of life and I asked them questions about what stewardship looks like in their lives. We talked about using our time, gifts, and resources for the glory of God and how it often looks different at the various stages of our lives.
One question I asked them wasn’t really a question at all. I asked them to respond to this statement:
Just because I can, doesn’t mean I should.
It’s a statement I’ve been thinking about ever since.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been prone to say “yes” to just about everything. If the task is of interest to me, something I am capable of doing, and doesn’t interfere with something else, most of the time, I say “yes.” Perhaps it’s my age or the fatigue related to grief or I’ve finally realized that I need to set limits, but I’ve realized that I spin too many plates. I’ve said “yes” to too many things. All those things are good things, in and of themselves. They are all things I enjoy doing. But in spinning so many plates, I’m not doing any one thing well.
Just because I’m capable of doing something, doesn’t mean that I should.
I had a conversation with a friend recently where we talked about the idolatry of productivity—of worshipping how much we can accomplish in our day and of finding our identity and purpose in what we we produce. I know I pride myself on my use of time and how much I can squeeze out of it. Kelly Kapic, in his book, You’re Only Human, writes that “When productivity alone reigns, we cultivate idolatry rather than worship, isolation rather than community, and selfishness rather than love” (p.163). Perhaps this is why I say “yes” to too many things. I find my identity in the ability to juggle many things.
In Psalm 90, Moses points out that our lives are brief. “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” (v.10). He contrasts the eternality of God with our lives, reminding us that before the mountains were brought forth, before the earth was formed, God existed (v.2). He also reminds us that our days lie in God’s hands (v.3). We all have a set number of years on this earth and then they come to an end. This contrast reminds me that only God is infinite. Only God is above and before all things. He has no limits. He is not bound by time and space. As Moses wrote, “For a thousand years in your sight are but as yesterday when it is past, or as a watch in the night” (v.4). Yet, I attempt to live my life as though I am limitless—that I am some kind of superhuman capable of accomplishing more than anyone else. And more, I push against my humanity and the limits with which God created me.
After contrasting humanity to God, Moses then asks the Lord to “teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” I read John Calvin’s thoughts on this psalm and he commented that it may seem silly to ask the Lord to help us number our days. After all, it’s not that hard to count to eighty years, right? Calvin pointed out that humans can count the number of miles between stars and planets, yet we have such difficulty realizing the brevity of our days. It really is spiritual wisdom to understand how brief our life is and what we ought to do with the time God has given us. Calvin wrote: Moses “teaches us that we then truly apply our hearts to wisdom when we comprehend the shortness of human life. What can be a greater proof of madness than to ramble about without proposing to one's self any end? True believers alone, who know the difference between this transitory state and a blessed eternity, for which they were created, know what ought to be the aim of their life. No man then can regulate his life with a settled mind, but he who, knowing the end of it, that is to say death itself, is led to consider the great purpose of man's existence in this world, that he may aspire after the prize of the heavenly calling.”
As I consider what I should do with my life—and not just what I can do—Moses’ prayer is one that I am praying. It is wisdom to grasp the reality of my finiteness and the limits of my creatureliness. If my Savior in his humanity needed time to rest, how can I think that I don’t need that as well? If my Savior set aside tasks to spend time with the Father in prayer, how can I think that I can just run from one thing to the next in my own strength? Truly, it is wisdom to realize that God is God and I am not. It is wisdom to use the brief years of my life well and for his glory, not my own. For me, this means to not necessarily fill every moment of my day with activity, but to use the time I have well and to be fully present as I do so.
Toward the end of Psalm 90, Moses reminds us that it is God’s favor upon us that enables us to do the work he’s given us. “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!” (v.17). He says it twice for emphasis. Interestingly, the word favor here is beauty in Hebrew. “Let the beauty of the Lord be upon us.” What is the Lord’s beauty? The wonder and glory of God. The grace and goodness of God. Who he is in his person and character. Calvin comments, “Moses intimates that we cannot undertake or attempt anything with the prospect of success, unless God become our guide and counsellor, and govern us by his Spirit.” Or as Jesus said in John 15:5, “I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.”
I’m still working through the idea that just because I can do something, doesn’t mean that I should. Part of that means repenting of my idolatry of productivity and finding rest in the One who created me with all my human limits and frailties. As Calvin wrote, may God be my guide and counselor.
Father in heaven: Establish the work of our hands. Yes, establish the work of our hands.
