In the past week, about 1,800 miles of pavement make its way under my truck’s wheels. The ubiquitous white stripes beloved by would-be passers flash staccato disruptions in my peripheral vision practically every part of every longitudinal mile—from Dallas to Oklahoma City, then to Nashville, back to Dallas, and finally from there to The Woodlands and back again.
In those 1,800 miles, I pass approximately 237,600 white stripes. The length of the journey makes each stripe forgettable if noticed at all. History does the same to each passing life; and each life to every day. “Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow” (Psalm 144:4). A proper perspective remembers how quickly each and every day has come and gone against the longer journey: reminding us that our losses fade as quickly as our victories. “The grass withers,” the stripes pass, “the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever” (Isaiah 40:8).
In contrast, even when I look directly at them through the windshield, I cannot make what I am seeing comport with what I know about how long the stripes actually are, and how great the distance between them. They look to be 3 or 4 feet long, 6 if I exaggerate. In reality, each stripe is 10 feet long, followed by a 30 foot gap. They are long enough that they beg to be seen—ought to be noticed. In the sermon on the mount, Jesus makes the negative point: Don’t look down the road; pay attention to this stripe; “sufficient for the day is its own trouble” (Matthew 6:34).
In a Psalm emphasizing the brevity of our existence against the eternity of God’s, Moses still asks God to “teach us to number our days, that we may get a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12). Days pass indistinguishable against the context of an entire life, much less eternity; yet God himself puts each one directly in front of us, demanding it be noticed.
May we pay each day this week the attention it deserves—because it is the moment to which God has drawn us, and because it will pass so quickly.