Guest blogger: Joe Barone - The frailty and brevity of life

In just thirteen verses, Psalm 39 opens a window into David’s heart. He pours out raw, honest pleas such as “keep my tongue from sin,” “my anguish increased,” “save me from all my transgressions,” and “hear my prayer, LORD. Listen to my cry for help.” David was clearly frustrated and distraught.

In verses 4 and 5, he reflects on the brevity of life: “LORD, remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered—how fleeting my life is.… at best, each of us is but a breath” (NLT). His words confront us with a sobering truth: our lives are fragile and fleeting. We are only a breath—only a heartbeat—away from standing before our Creator.

In the past two months, I had the honor of eulogizing two dear friends. One lived to 86, the other to 73. By our measure, those are long years; yet before God, they are but a mist. “What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes” (James 4:14, ESV). Still, God knows what mattered most: not how long they lived, but how well they lived, how well they loved, and the imprint they left on others.

Recently, I listened to a podcast teaching on Psalm 39, highlighting how David prayed while carrying deep sorrows, afflictions, and even the sense that he was under the heavy hand of God’s discipline. In verse 12 he pleads, “Hear my prayer, O LORD… Don’t ignore my tears.” David recognized that his days were like a vapor and responded with humble dependence on God. Charles Spurgeon captured this truth simply: “Here is the history of the grass—sown, grown, blown, mown, gone; and the history of man is not much more.”

David ends with this final plea in verse 13: “Leave me alone so I can smile again before I am gone and exist no more.” His honesty invites us to pause and look inward. How are we spending the days God has entrusted to us? To what do we give our strength, attention, and affection? Surely our highest calling is to honor and glorify the One who gave us breath.

As we step into the New Year, 2026, David’s confession in verse 7 becomes an anchor for our hearts: “But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you.” With that same posture, we turn our eyes toward God, asking Him to shape our desires, order our steps, and teach us to number our days with wisdom. Not only for the year ahead, but for every moment He grants us breath, may our lives reflect a hope rooted firmly in Him.

I share the following poem, mentioned in the podcast, with a tender hope that its words will touch your heart as they touched mine—offering comfort, perspective, and a quiet reminder of what matters most as we face the frailty and brevity of life.

“The Dash” by Linda Ellis (1996)

I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on the tombstone
from the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came the date of birth
and spoke the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.
 
For that dash represents all the time
that they spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved them
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own,
the cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
that can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
to consider what’s true and real
and always try to understand
the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect
and more often wear a smile,
remembering that this special dash
might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read,
with your life’s actions to rehash…
would you be proud of the things they say
about how you spent YOUR dash?