The Permanent and the Perishable
Introduction: Two Kinds of Dust
Our modern world is obsessed with permanence. We want to leave a legacy, make our mark, build something that lasts. We have cryogenic freezing for our bodies, digital clouds for our memories, and endless social media streams to ensure we are not forgotten. But this frantic pursuit of a lasting name is really just a noisy argument with reality. It is a rebellion against the verdict that God pronounced in the Garden: "for dust you are, and to dust you shall return."
The secular man hears this and despairs, or he doubles down on his frantic legacy-building, which is just another form of despair with better marketing. He sees his life as a brief, accidental bloom in a meaningless field, destined to be cut down and forgotten. And from his own premises, he is not wrong. If there is no God, then our lives are indeed like grass. We sprout, we grow, we wither, and we are gone. The place where we once stood, our home, our office, our favorite chair, soon forgets us entirely. The universe does not remember our name.
But the Christian faith does not offer us a cheap escape from this reality. It does not tell us we are not dust. Rather, it tells us that there are two kinds of dust. There is the dust that is simply blown away by the wind, and there is the dust that God has gathered into a covenant with Himself. The Bible looks squarely at the brevity and fragility of human life, without flinching, and then sets it alongside the massive, unshakeable, eternal reality of God's covenant love. This passage in Psalm 103 is a collision of these two truths. It first tells us the bad news about our own flimsy nature, and then it tells us the glorious good news about God's permanent promises.
The Text
As for man, his days are like grass;
As a flower of the field, so he flowers.
When the wind has passed over it, it is no more,
And its place acknowledges it no longer.
But the lovingkindness of Yahweh is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear Him,
And His righteousness to children’s children,
To those who keep His covenant
And remember His precepts to do them.
(Psalm 103:15-18 LSB)
The Honest Assessment (v. 15-16)
The Psalmist begins with a dose of realism that would be entirely at home in the book of Ecclesiastes.
"As for man, his days are like grass; As a flower of the field, so he flowers. When the wind has passed over it, it is no more, And its place acknowledges it no longer." (Psalm 103:15-16)
This is not sentimental poetry. This is a theological statement of fact. Notice the subject: "As for man." This is a universal declaration about the nature of humanity in its fallen condition. Your life, my life, every life, is like grass. We shoot up, we have a brief season of greenness, and then we are gone. The metaphor is then intensified: we are like a flower of the field. This speaks of our fragility and our brief moment of glory. A flower can be beautiful, vibrant, and impressive for a short time. But it is utterly defenseless. A hot wind, a passing animal, a careless foot, and it is gone.
The "wind" that passes over it is all it takes. This could be a sickness, an accident, a war, or simply the slow, steady wind of time. The result is the same: "it is no more." The existence is terminated. But the final phrase is the most brutal: "And its place acknowledges it no longer." The world moves on without a pause. The hole you leave is quickly filled. The grass grows over the spot. This is a direct assault on our pride and our desire for self-importance. The world you invested so much in, the career you built, the reputation you polished, will forget you with astonishing speed.
This is a necessary truth. We must be humbled before we can be exalted. We must see our own emptiness before we can be filled. We must understand that in ourselves, we are nothing more than a fading flower, destined for the compost heap of history. If your identity is built on your own strength, your own accomplishments, or your own legacy, you have built your house on a sand dune in the path of a hurricane.
The Great Reversal (v. 17)
But then comes one of the great hinges of Scripture. The word "But" pivots the entire cosmos from the bleak reality of our frailty to the glorious reality of God's faithfulness.
"But the lovingkindness of Yahweh is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear Him, And His righteousness to children’s children," (Psalm 103:17 LSB)
Against the backdrop of our temporary, fading existence, we are shown something permanent. The lovingkindness of Yahweh. The Hebrew word is hesed. This is not a sentimental, Hallmark-card kind of love. It is rugged, unbreakable, covenant loyalty. It is God's determined, sworn allegiance to His people. And what is its duration? "From everlasting to everlasting." Before the mountains were brought forth, before you were a thought, God's hesed existed. And when this world has passed away and your brief life is long over, His hesed will still be standing. It is the only truly permanent thing in the universe.
But we must pay careful attention to the object of this love. It is not a universal, squishy benevolence sprayed over all humanity indiscriminately. It is "on those who fear Him." The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and it is also the beginning of experiencing God's covenant love. This is not the cowering terror of a slave before a tyrant. It is the loving, trembling, reverential awe of a child before a great and good Father. It is the joyful submission to His authority, the hatred of evil, and the delight in His ways. To fear God is to take Him seriously. And for those who do, His loyal love is their eternal inheritance.
And this inheritance is not just for them. It is generational. His righteousness extends "to children's children." This is the nature of the covenant. God does not just save isolated individuals; He saves families. He works through generations. The flower may wither, but the seed is passed on, and God's promise of righteousness covers the entire family tree of the faithful.
The Covenant Condition (v. 18)
Verse 18 further defines the people who live under this canopy of everlasting love. It clarifies what the fear of the Lord looks like in practice.
"To those who keep His covenant And remember His precepts to do them." (Psalm 103:18 LSB)
The recipients of eternal hesed are those who "keep His covenant." Keeping the covenant is not about achieving sinless perfection to earn God's favor. The entire context of this psalm is about forgiveness for sinners (vv. 3, 10-12). Rather, to keep the covenant means to live within its bounds, to embrace its terms, and to cling to its Mediator. In the New Covenant, this means clinging to Jesus Christ by faith. It means that when you sin, you run back to the covenant promises of forgiveness in Him. It means you orient your entire life around the reality of your relationship with God through Christ.
And this covenant-keeping life has a distinct character. It is a life of obedience. They are those who "remember His precepts to do them." Notice the two parts: remembering and doing. The Christian life is not one of ignorant bliss. We are to be people of the Book, people who know God's law. We are to remember His commandments. But this is not an academic exercise. We remember in order to do. Faith without works is dead. A covenant that does not result in obedience is a fiction. The fear of the Lord and the keeping of His covenant will always, necessarily, produce a life of grateful obedience to His precepts.
Conclusion: Rooted in Eternity
So we are left with a stark choice. Every human being is grass. Every human life is a fading flower. The wind is coming for all of us. There are no exceptions. The question is not whether you are fragile, but where you are rooted.
You can be a wildflower, rooted in the thin soil of your own accomplishments and self-regard. You will have your brief moment in the sun, and then the wind will come, and your place will know you no more. You will be forgotten, because you were rooted in the perishable.
Or, you can be grass that is rooted in the covenant of God. You can be a flower planted in the garden of His eternal hesed. The wind will still blow. Your body will still fail. Your life will still be a vapor. But you will not be blown away into nothingness. You will be gathered into the arms of the one whose lovingkindness is from everlasting to everlasting. Your children and your children's children will be brought under that same covenant canopy.
The great lie of our age is that you can make yourself permanent. The great truth of the gospel is that you don't have to. Your permanence is not found in yourself, but in the eternal God who has sworn an oath to be your God. Therefore, do not trust in your own fleeting beauty. Trust in the everlasting Word of God. Fear Him. Cling to His covenant in Christ. Remember His precepts and do them. And you will find that even though you are dust, you are an eternal kind of dust, held fast by an everlasting love.