All’s quiet on this Friday night, the first night of being 41. No emails of drama, job offers or necessary busy work required to remain a full-time student here. Facebook was shut down months ago. A few strangers said Happy Birthday on LinkedIn. My wife said it, and told our two-year old son to say it. Dad won’t call. This is the way I like it right now. Maybe not when I’m older, but right now, this is fine. There is nothing special about being this old. It isn’t old enough for wisdom or some athletic feat of aging. It’s just old enough that I am now invisible like every other Gen X+ person out there. We don’t matter. Our ideas have been put to the fire and they melted. Our creations will be lost as the digital age advances into being one of purely videos. I never cared much for the gods of Gen X kids, anyway. Those kids worshiped punk rock, skateboards, 80s movies, synth pop, metal, zines, etc. Gen X peaked in 1993 and that was it. It was a swift downhill run met by abysmal copycats of all the underground acts from the 80s and all the child stars of the 80s lapsing into ignominy and death. When Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake arrived, it was clear that the Millennials were in the house and everyone else could leave. I became an adult even as my own generation was already losing its relevance.
So now, what is there? There is no past, anymore, and there is no future. The time is only now. The Kingdom of Heaven isn’t arriving in the clouds, nor is it advancing miserably across the wreckage of a so-called Christian history that looks nothing at all like Jesus. The Kingdom is right here, right now, or it could be, if I decide to let it be. And once it is, the past and the future will no longer matter.