By: Cia Mathew, Fiction and Poetry Editor
When I’m 75 years old with crow’s feet wrinkles around my eyes and arthritis in my knees, I want to tell my grandchildren that I was rebellious and counter-cultural. That I believed in the impossible, and that I talked about a scandalous grace. That I welcomed death. That I embraced radical abandonment of my post-grad plans in a Type A-praising school. And that I practiced the most unusual sexual behavior – chastity and abstinence.
Being a 21st-century, American, Christ-follower in your 20’s is not the norm. I stick out. When most of my peers are passing joints and making jokes about Moses, I’m at worship nights and leading Bible study. When I’m 75, I want to tell people that my choice to pursue Christ made me different. And I want that difference to be something that turns heads and makes my friends question me – because with that I can point them towards a God that can satisfy them more than any substances, romances and successes of this world.
When I’m 75 years old, I want to be positive that God used me. I want to have been used for his Kingdom, and I don’t want to regret missed opportunities. My young 20’s is an age where I have few commitments (no family, no pets), I have a three-month summer vacation, and I can still ask my parents for money. It’s the perfect age for traveling and exploration, and the options to serve God are endless. I want to be 75 and know that I didn’t set boundaries for how God could have used me. Instead, I allowed Him to take total control of my life, and I took the backseat with assurance I was in unfaltering hands.