26 is banal. No one has fond memories of their 26th birthday. No one waxes eloquent about being kicked off their parent’s insurance. It’s not a celebration. But I’ll tell you what it’s been for me. An action-thriller.
Twists, turns, terror, and total joy. Because as it turns out, life isn’t a binary between highs and lows. Instead, it all gets mixed together and leads to weekends with rings and funerals and anxiety and jubilation and, man… that’s a messy feeling.
I’m old enough to realize that love can mean losing.
I am more excited than ever to marry my best friend in a few short months. But I am more terrified than I have ever been at the prospect of losing her.
The miles between me and my family seem extraordinarily far these days. My heart is so full of unceasing love for them and it makes 800 miles feel like 8 million.
My friends are more important to me than they ever have been as I move into the season when friends start moving away.
I know that the possibility of kids is closer than it’s ever been. And I’m already uneasy at the thought of protecting them from this world.
I’m old enough to see the prospects of loss in love. And old enough to know I’m not big enough to handle that. The miles are long. The days are short. And tomorrow is completely out of my control. Love can mean losing and fear can be crippling.
26, of all years, has been the one that’s challenged my optimism more than any other. Not because of what I’ve lost, but because of what I’ve gained. In a linear view of my life, I’m on a mountaintop. And I’m tempted in that moment to consider all the jagged drop-offs ahead.
Mom and I have a theme in our lives that we consistently remind ourselves of: “The best is yet to come.” It’s not just a profession that we haven’t peaked yet, it’s confidence to love fearlessly. To remind ourselves, that despite the losses looming, the ultimate victory is already written. 26 isn’t my mountaintop. Eternity is. God has given. If and when he takes away, I know that the best is yet to come. When I’m tempted to love this life more than I ought, I remember that union with Christ is my endgame. Jesus’ victory on the cross and in the empty tomb frees me to love in the face of loss. Fear doesn’t control me. And I get to love like the boy of my youth. Unhindered, unabashedly, and unrelentingly. I don’t know what’s coming next month, but I know where I’ll be in 100 years. The paths in between? Praising Jesus all the way, loving the way he would.
Fear is real. But when I love in the face of it, I’m doing what I tell my students to everyday: “Live like you believe the Gospel is true.”
Grace, I love you and no matter what comes next, I choose you every day. I will protect, lead, and serve our family first. To represent Jesus to you in even the smallest way is my greatest privilege.
Mom and Dad, you mean more to me than I could ever put into words. When I’m on the other edge of the space between us, I’m loving you and others fearlessly because you taught me to love like Jesus.
Friends and church, know the love I have for you. We love, not because it lasts, but because God loved us first. God loved me knowing my fragility, finitude, and failures. He loved me despite me.
This year, I choose to love despite fear.
