“It’s hard to know if I’m really making the most of my life,” she tells me as she stretches out between the seats of the train.
I watch the darkness pass and force myself to breathe deeply. I had just read that most writers complete their greatest work in their mid-twenties. My mid-twenties are here.
And soon gone.
I want to leave a legacy with words. She wants to leave one with cross-cultural missions, with the kids he raises, the career she builds.
“What am I doing? What am I doing?” I press the palm of my hand into the steering wheel after a night at the movies.
I say I want to build a legacy, but I really just want my name to live forever. To step outside time.
Am I any different than Eve reaching out to pluck the chance to be like God?
I try to see through the smudged fingerprints on the glass. Darkness flies past and the occasional blur of lights. I’ve heard of trains that fly like bullets, crossing borders and consuming the tracks in a matter of seconds.
But there’s no train I can ride to the outskirts of time.
Even the great people in history books get the past tense beside their name. She was. They were the greatest of their time.
But God stands before the beginning and after the end.
I flip past another meme of a millenial in their twenties, having accomplished 0% of the goals they ever made.
But the only lasting Legacy sits on His throne, finished with His work.
Even the future is finished.
The number of my days are tucked safely in the hands of the One who cannot be defined by numbers or calculations.
We get off the train together. I start to pray, not that I would make a difference in this world, but that I would trust in the One who has already made all the difference.
“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.” Revelation 1:8