So I'm sitting at my favorite coffee shop.
Hoping to celebrate, commemorate, what God has done through my 27 years of living.
Sifting through the journal writing of the last year, the blog posts, influential Bible passages, ect.
But I also had this plan to write about how since the age of 10 I've expected great things to come from being 26. Maybe I saw it as the precipice on which I would look over all the good that I would accomplished. And I would write how the last 27 years of living haven't been anything like I thought they'd be.
Specifically the last five of adulthood.
Some dreams have died.
And in the midst of that I am distracted as I look at people's birthday wishes on my Facebook wall.
And I notice this story on my news feed.
It could have been my story.
I am reminded of the brevity of life.
Life is so short - so fragile.
I am not too many years removed from the age my aunt was when she slipped into eternity.
Which altered me forever.
And there have been billions of days (going back to the story I saw) that I've played basketball without
ever thinking twice.
Life on this earth may not be what I think it should be.
And so like I was going to write in the original post.
The gospel is more important to me now - at 27 - than it has ever been before.
It's what I lean on when there's the death of dreams.
It's what makes me excited to live, and not afraid to die.
No fear in life.
No fear in death.
(No fear in turning 27.)