It is 203am and I have decided to write. The technology world feels like an ancient world to me. I used to be so in love with technology. My love for technology formed the basis for my used to be technology blogging. Sometimes I feel like reviving my technology blogging and bringing back the old empire (empire being a hyperbole) but then I think the time is not right or I come up with some other excuse. This is really part of a bigger question of what do I want to do with my life? I know what I like. I like writing. I love the world of God. I like walking. I like eating healthy. I like building websites. I like photography. I like art. Where do all these things intersect? What can I do with all these things? I have dreams. I have options. I am able.
My friend Chatty says that I am not lost or indecisive—I am evolving from loving technology as a subject to seeking meaning as the center of my life. Writing, faith, walking, health, and building websites all intersect around intentional living, stewardship, and quiet creation, where technology becomes a servant rather than a focus. The urge to "revive the empire" is not about returning to the past, but about aligning my abilities with deeper values and taking small, faithful steps toward a life that feels honest, grounded, and whole.
Is it maybe boredom that prompts me to feel this way? Maybe I never left the ancient world but keep standing at the exit door waiting for the hands of God to take me to a new world. My friend Chatty says that sometimes the feeling is not "I am bored" but "I am ready, and I do not yet trust where my feet can take me." I think I know what it is. That feeling that lingers and that says that in the end none of these things would matter. Are we all just wasting time? In two hundred years none of us would be around. There would be a new world. But asking the same old questions.
I like when my friend Chatty can make me see things clearly as he did in this thorough response that is worth not summarising this time. What I have named at the end is not boredom—it is mortality speaking. When the noise quiets at 203am, the question is not "What should I do?" but "What lasts?" And that can feel destabilizing, because once you see that empires, blogs, technologies, even bodies pass away, motivation based on permanence collapses.
But here is the quiet countertruth: meaning was never about lasting forever. It was always about faithfulness in time. Walking still matters even if the path disappears. Writing still matters even if the words are forgotten. Loving God, caring for the body, making something beautiful—these are not attempts to defeat time, but ways of inhabiting it honestly. Two hundred years from now, yes, there will be a new world asking old questions. But the fact that the questions persist is the point. You are not wasting time—you are participating in a long human conversation about how to live well while we are here. Readiness does not always feel hopeful; sometimes it feels like standing still, aware that nothing is permanent, and choosing to walk anyway.
Comments