THE MORE TIME passes, the more my time perspective shifts. The past is a collection of dim memories, and even the longest days seem fleeting in retrospect. I meet up with people I haven’t seen in a long time, or look at my grandchildren, and think, “Where has the time gone?”

And the future, of course, seems short. I’m not ill, and I’m not planning to die any time soon (if God has other plans, I haven’t received the memo yet). But I know that my time on earth is limited. Ten years from now, perhaps twenty, if I’m still around, I know I’ll still be looking back and asking where the time went and feeling that whatever time is left is shrinking by the day.

When I was younger, I saw my whole life stretching out before me. I had to choose what paths to tread, anxiously trying to imagine where such paths might lead. I’m closer to the end of my journey now, and I know it. It reorders my priorities and changes how I see the choices that are before me. Why, for example, should I put much time and energy into beefing up my résumé? It’s not like I’m planning to put myself out on the job market. Rather, more and more, what matters to me is what will count for eternity, for the building of God’s kingdom.

That, of course, should always have mattered. But I guess I’m a slow learner.

WHEN WE READ the letters of John, we should imagine him as an elderly man, a senior statesman of the church. He walked with Jesus and watched as the church grew and spread across the Roman Empire. No one alive had been part of the Christian movement longer than John, and his wisdom was to be respected.

In 1 John 2, as we’ve seen, he tells his readers not to love the world, that is, not to think and live as people whose desires and priorities are determined by those of a fallen world, a world in opposition to God. In verse 17, then, he adds another reason to why they shouldn’t follow worldly desires:

The world and its desires pass away, but whoever does the will of God lives forever. (1 John 2:17, NIV)

The world is temporary, and so is everything in it that we desire; they’re here today and gone tomorrow. Such a statement, I think, is easier to both say and believe when you’re older, when you’ve watched the decades unfold with all its comings and goings. Fame and fortune rise and fall. Today’s celebrity is tomorrow’s has-been, and the “next big thing” is soon outdated and irrelevant.

Knowing this should change our values and priorities. I’m reminded here of the story in Luke’s gospel, in which Jesus is teaching the crowds and someone calls out, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me” (Luke 12:13). It’s always tragic to see families split apart by conflicts over money, and battles over inheritance are doubly grievous. So to be fair to the person who called out to Jesus, this was probably no laughing matter. But Jesus wanted to redirect the man’s priorities: “Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions” (vs. 14).

To drive the lesson home, he told a parable. One year, a rich man had such an abundant harvest that he didn’t know what to do with all the grain. He decided to build bigger barns to house the surplus, and felt that his future was so secure that he could just sit back and enjoy the easy life. But Jesus gives the story a twist:

But God said to him, “You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?” This is how it will be with whoever stores up things for themselves but is not rich toward God. (Luke 12:20-21)

The man’s priorities were worldly ones. He had learned the world’s definitions of success and security. His perspective was narrow and time-limited; he couldn’t see the foolishness or futility of racking up more and more wealth which he couldn’t carry with him beyond the grave. He was rich by worldly standards, but not toward God; he had barns full of treasure stored up on earth, but nothing in heaven.

“The world and its desires pass away,” John writes. Note, however, that in Jesus’ parable, it’s the rich man himself who passes away, while his wealth survives and is left behind. But then John says, “but whoever does the will of God lives forever.” We might have expected a different contrast: Earthly treasure is temporary, but heavenly treasure is eternal.

But neither John nor Jesus is talking merely about treasure. They’re talking about life: do we live in ways appropriate to the world’s values, or to those of God’s kingdom? Listen to Jesus’ warning again: “Life does not consist in an abundance of possessions.” Yes, the world and its desires are passing away. But so will we, if that’s all we know, if that’s what matters to us most.

Do we want to live it up, or live forever? Follow the way of the world, or do the will of God? The choice is right there in front of us every day, if we choose to see it.