2.2.24 - Psalm 103:15-16
There's a tension between short-term living and long-term legacy. What's the legacy of compassion and justice you want to leave behind? What's today step you need to take to realize it?
Our days are like the grass; we flourish like a flower of the field; When the wind goes over it, it is gone, and its place shall know it no more.
Our time here is limited and quickly fleeting. Like an exhausted breath, we are expressed and then gone, leaving space for the next one.
That thought can be an incubating existential crisis, or it can be an invitation to partake.
I admit that on a daily basis, my activity can be summed up to survival routines: basic hygiene, fuel, doom-scroll social media, capitalism to be able to afford to live, rinse and repeat.
Unfortunately, it's the chronic condition of our culture. But along the way, I hope that I have participated in moments of Kin-dom: elevating the voices of those who cry out for help, fighting and voting for those excluded by our social and legal systems, telling someone they're worth loving.
These are the things that resonate after we're gone. Wrestling with the world to heal some of the backwards-ness around us is what gives the next breath, the next generation, momentum to keep bringing the Kin-dom and keep exacting change.
There's a constant tension between now and next, between short-term living and long-term legacy. What's the legacy of compassion and justice you want to leave behind? What's today step you need to take to realize it?
--Katelin Champion