Counting the Minutes
November 3, 2026
SCRIPTURE COLLECTION
Today's Scripture Passage
He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.
Ecclesiastes 3:11
Related Scriptures:
Ecclesiastes 3:1–14
Psalm 90:1–12
Psalm 39:4–7
Psalm 103:13–18
James 4:13–15
Luke 23:39–43
Luke 12:16–21
Matthew 6:19–21
2 Corinthians 4:16–5:8
2 Corinthians 6:2
Notes & Reflections
What follows is a reflection on my dad's life and cancer.
Some days I wonder if God has a stopwatch or a timer. Maybe our time is counting down, or maybe, like a stopwatch, when it reaches a certain time, He hits stop. Does it count upward for Christians, ever increasing, even though we die, and down for non-Christians, running out when they reach their end, apart from God?
None of this is biblical, and I don't think God uses watches, though I do consider how God's timing works. What we do know is that all of us have eternity, and whether in the presence of the Lord or out of His presence, we will all live forever.
Though I wonder, as I spend time with my dad and watch him battle cancer, what kind of minutes am I counting?
My dad recently moved out of his country home and into a small, one-room apartment, and I don't mean one bedroom, I mean literally one room. He told me on this last visit that he hates it. That's understandable, because he went from a full-size home with a large yard, a little dog, and a quiet space to a small, no-dog-having box in the city. If he plays his cards right, he can literally flip his pancakes from the bathroom.
All of this happened after the cancer that had overcome his body broke one of his legs while he was sitting in his recliner. Cancer is an ugly and cruel animal.
As I continue to watch it have its way with my dad's life, I become more and more depressed. On this last visit, his walking seemed to have improved, which is encouraging after his long stay in the hospital, because hospital stays are not things that promote the will of a person to "keep going," and I do fear that the longer he has to stay, the more he will deteriorate.
He had also grown extremely thin since the last time I saw him. He told me with great enthusiasm that he's gained some of his weight back, but when I look at his arms and legs, they seem to contain nothing but bones and skin. It's hard to imagine that his nurses can poke him with a needle without it popping out the other side. He's not very fond of his nurses either.
He told me that a nurse would be in the next day to get blood, and with many choice words he made it clear that he would feel more comfortable if a blind, no-armed or no-fingered man did it instead of her. I could see that he was tired of being treated like a pincushion. He pointed to his arm and explained to me how the IV in his hand ran up his arm and across his chest, which they used to treat his cancer more aggressively. This was hard to watch.
As I observed my dad sit in his chair, in his new and rather small apartment, my children played on the floor. Our baby made her way across the floor, and the other two played with her. I watched my dad watch them closely and could see his face find great joy in their presence. I wondered what he was thinking and if he was sad. I wondered what it'd be like in his position. What a mixture of emotions would fill the heart. It was all rather beautiful and terrifying.
I could tell that he was deeply bothered by all the things he was going through and the things he was losing. Everything seemed to be slowly drifting away like a raft on the sea. It was also painfully clear that he had deep regrets about not having an inheritance to pass on.
"I'm running out of money, Dave. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to stay here." He paused. "Don't expect an inheritance when I'm gone."
I could feel the pain he was experiencing.
"I don't care about that, Dad."
Who cares about money more than the life of their dad? I wanted to burst out and yell,
"You can have an inheritance in Christ, Dad!" I wanted to burst into tears and beg him to trust Jesus. But I didn't.
And I'm more and more convinced that the human heart is a sucker for useless treasures. Man chases and worries about paper and what is obviously dissolving and unreliable, even when all evidence points to the fact that it's all pointless. Death is on the horizon, and men just want their children to enjoy life before they, too, see its grim reality staring them in their eyes.
I'm convinced that time is truly created for the dying. It sends a man to the point of desperation. It gives him the sense of urgency to make some kind of decision, to ask some sort of question, to seek some kind of answer, though he ignores the most important parts.
Time is counting up while the body breaks down. It points to the expectation of something more. It is what I think the Preacher means by "eternity in the heart." Time offers man the idea of eternity, though man cannot attain it on his own. It frustrates a man to miss out on what seems within his grasp.
His thoughts are constantly "make the best of it" and "I can prolong my time," though he's chasing a shadow of eternity and not eternity itself. In his blindness he suppresses the need for action and truth, and instead chases things that make him comfortable in his ever-growing collision with his greatest fear—the end of time.
All things are pointing towards Christ and God, even time. My dad is feeling the weight of the pressure that time is placing on him. It can only be ignored for so long.
My wife recently asked my oldest sister about the money situation. She asked what they'll do when he runs out. The answer was that he has enough for two years, and he probably won't make it that far.
This is deeply troubling for me. I find myself thinking about how he may die alone. I think about how I need to see him more and more, because time is also pressing on me. It's also pushing me into a reality that I, at times, would like to ignore.
This reality is weightier for me because I know what comes next. Time for me, in relation to my dad dying, isn't framed in uncertainty, but in certainty, though I'm not sure what grace may fall on my dad.
A while ago, we were talking on the phone, and I told him, again, about Christ. He said that he had prayed to God in his bed. I'm not sure what that means. A part of me concludes that that isn't sufficient, and another part of me says, "It's Christ's work alone that saves a man."
My hope is that he is like the thief on the cross. My hope is that all of my conclusions about the whole matter are destroyed when I enter eternity. My hope is that I explode with praise upon praise that Christ's work is sufficient, even if a man muttered a scared and confused prayer to a God he is unsure about.
Another part of this is my dad's ever-growing longing for more human interaction. I'm finding that he doesn't have much interest in broken promises or commitments. The moment I tell him that I will be visiting on such-and-such a day, it isn't long before he floods my phone with messages and calls.
When a person assumes they have "plenty of time," they are more likely to be relaxed with daily choices and commitments. I find that this is my thinking. When this kind of thinking meets the thinking of someone who is aware of their own fragility, it's easy for these two ways of thinking to clash. One may become annoyed and find the other rather crazy and impatient for calling so many times. But which way of thinking is more appropriate?
If I could see my fragility like my dad does, I think I might be more bold. Why do I count the minutes for my time with my dad, who is dying, and not for those who I assume are living?
Am I the fool in James 4:13–15? It says,
"Come now, you who say, 'Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit'—yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, 'If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.'"
Come now, indeed. Spend your years, which are your time, and assume things you know nothing about. Do this, and ignore everything around you until you have to face the reality that you are going to die. You will die sooner than you think.
Consider your frail body and get wisdom. Would I be more urgent and less complacent with my relationships and commitments if I considered my dad's way of thinking at this point? Is time an opportunity for self-gratification, or something far more? It is far more, dear Christian.
One thing that I find most complicated is my inner affections. Over the years, I have consumed the Word and have deeply considered how fleeting this world is. I've looked at Christ and have come to the conclusion that He is worth more than everything. If I have Him, I am content. This conclusion has greatly guided how I feel about my relationships.
It seems like a paradox that I can love my dad so much and yet be able to move forward if I lose him. I am both greatly saddened and yet deeply comforted. This is the most peculiar reality that I face right now, and at times I find the urge to feel guilty, as though Christ is not worth more than my dad, mom, wife, or children. Yet I am convinced He is, and that all of this will one day make sense.
I find that counting the minutes with my dad is a very difficult thing. I want him to live forever. I don't want his time to run out, and I don't want him to die from cancer. Yet he will. I can't explain or even understand how God handles all of these things, and honestly, I get really sad about it. I just pray that my dad knows Christ very soon, and I hope I don't waste what is in front of me.
I continue to pray and cling to Christ in all of this, and I know that He is enough.
Why has God given us only a short time on earth?
God has set eternity in the heart of man, and the shortness of our days presses us to see that we are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes, so that we would stop chasing what is passing away, seek Christ while there is time, and number our days in a way that brings a heart of wisdom (Ecclesiastes 3:11; James 4:13–15; Psalm 90:12).
Study Questions
QUESTION 01
According to Ecclesiastes 3:11, what has God put into man’s heart, and why can’t man reach it on his own?
QUESTION 02
James 4:13–15 calls our life a mist. What is wrong with the way the people in that passage plan their future, and how should a Christian speak about tomorrow instead?
QUESTION 03
In Luke 23:39–43, what did the dying criminal ask of Jesus, and what does Jesus’s answer show about how a person is saved?
How To Cling Today
Cling to Christ today by thinking about all you have in him and where your life is headed.
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