I haven’t taken the transition into my thirties lightly. I bought a leather bag that resembles a briefcase. I transitioned to a wallet that actually looks like a wallet. I wrote fifty-five life resolutions. I spent the 48 hours leading up to my birthday alone in a friend’s condo studying Colossians and occasionally eating. I didn’t really care whether people thought those things were goofy or great, because I didn’t do them for people. I did them because I take my life seriously.

I know I’m not Jesus, but I am me and that means something. My life is a gift and it’s the only one I get. It is valuable. It is unique. It is fragile. It is short. I take it seriously.

shatteredI broke my second favorite mug a couple months ago and I was devastated. It contained two images and a verse reference that radically shape who I am, images I drew myself when my mug was mere molded clay. When it broke, I stood still for a good five minutes mourning my loss. Seriously. Last night I drank soda from a red plastic cup. Then I threw the cup away, because it means nothing to me. I can buy 50 more at Costco for $6.91.

You are not a red plastic cup. You are a personalized mug. Your life is a gift and it’s the only one you get. It is valuable. It is unique. It is fragile. It is short. Take it seriously.

NOTE: In light of my 30th birthday and in honor of the guys who have all the fun, I’ll be offering thirty reflections in thirty days starting December 19th. The only rule is that I have 250 words to make my point. After that just stop reading. Thanks for making my blog part of your internet experience. 

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