Good Morning, Yesterday

It's the second day of the new year. At this rate, it will go mercilessly fast (or mercifully, for some of us). This year is going to be a very reflective year for me, and hopefully one in which I will recklessly spend the quickly diminishing currency of youth - investing it in the establishment of age.

It's odd how my thoughts oscillate between the scriptural and the secular; yet, it is quite clear to me that the power of the Word is meant to resonate in the World, for the World has its being and its temporal existence predicated on the Word. And so, what comes to mind most readily now is an odd juxtaposition of Psalm 90, a "prayer of Moses, the man of God", and Paul Anka's The Times of Your Life. Here they are, side by side, twin reminders that pushing forty is the point at which the swimmer makes the turn for home.

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The Times of Your Life, by Paul Anka and Moses

Good morning yesterday
Lord, You have been our refuge in all generations.
You wake up, and time has slipped away
Before the mountains were brought forth,
Or ever You had formed the earth and the world,
Even from everlasting to everlasting, You are God.
And suddenly it's hard to find

You turn man to destruction,
And say, “Return, O children of men.”
The memories that you left behind
For a thousand years in Your sight
Remember, do you remember?
Are like yesterday when it is past
And like a watch in the night.
The laughter and the tears

You carry them away like a flood;
They are like a sleep.
The shadows of misty yesteryears
In the morning they are like grass which grows up:
In the morning it flourishes and grows up;
The good times and the bad you've seen
In the evening it is cut down and withers.
And all the others in between

For we have been consumed by Your anger,
And by Your wrath we are terrified.
Remember, do you remember the times of your life?
(Do you remember?)
You have set our iniquities before You,
Our secret sins in the light of Your countenance.
Reach out for the joy and the sorrow
For all our days have passed away in Your wrath;
We finish our years like a sigh.
Put them away in your mind

The days of our lives are seventy years;
And if by reason of strength they are eighty years,
The mem'ries are time that you borrow
Yet their boast is only labor and sorrow;
For it is soon cut off, and we fly away.
To spend when you get to tomorrow
Who knows the power of Your anger?
For as the fear of You, so is Your wrath.
Here comes the setting sun (comes the setting sun)
So teach us to number our days,
That we may gain a heart of wisdom.
The seasons are passing one by one

Return, O LORD! How long?
So gather moments while you may,
And have compassion on Your servants.
Collect the dreams you dream today
Oh, satisfy us early with Your mercy,
That we may rejoice and be glad all our days!
Remember, will you remember the times of your life?
Make us glad according to the days in which You have afflicted us,
The years in which we have seen evil.
Of your life, of your life
Let Your work appear to Your servants
Do you remember, baby?
And Your glory to their children.
Do you remember the times of your life?
And let the beauty of the LORD our God be upon us,
Do you remember, baby?
And establish the work of our hands for us;
Do you remember the times of your life?
Yes, establish the work of our hands.

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And so, Anka the Lebanese Canadian and Moses the Israelite Egyptian meet across the millennia to speak of time. It's remarkable how little concerns have changed across that span. The bridge of years never fails to evoke a sense of wonder - and it humbles us all.