For my eighteenth birthday, my dad gave me a copy of The Daily Stoic. Each page is dedicated to a single day and begins with a quote from a Stoic thinker, followed by the author's reflection. I turned twenty-three earlier this month, which means that book now holds five years' worth of annotations from hundreds of different versions of myself. Whenever I open it and read these ancient quotes, I wonder: What pieces of myself, if any, will linger for generations after I am gone?
This question has followed me throughout my life. Because of my dad's military career, I moved almost every year, leaving behind communities just as I began to feel at home in them. I often wondered whether I would be remembered once I was gone. As it turns out, every time Taylor Swift releases an album, old friends and neighbors have a habit of reaching out, bridging the years and miles between us, to ask what I think. I’d argue being remembered as an original and loyal Swiftie isn't the worst legacy to leave behind.
But as I've grown older and settled further into myself, my question has become more pressing. I have so many passions, curiosities, and ideas occupying my mind. Among those tugs towards different projects, what do I want to be known for?
After I joined a beautiful church in downtown Kansas City and listened to sermons of love and light, the pieces began to fall into place. All the ambitions, projects, and passions I had spent years trying to reconcile seemed to gather around one simple mission: I want to lead with love. And I now realize that love is not simply a feeling I hope to give others, but a commitment that should shape how I live.
Stewardship means something different to each of us, but at its heart is the recognition that what we have is not simply ours to accumulate or consume. We have been entrusted with gifts, resources, opportunities, and time. We have a responsibility to consider how we use them. If I want to lead with love, I don’t think it’s enough to simply care about others; I want to act on that love.
As a recent college graduate and in my first year of teaching, I cannot boast of a particularly impressive bank account or a heavy wallet. But I am rich where it matters: in a healthy family, a supportive community, and in hope. Herein, I pose that stewardship is not measured by a dollar sign followed by a number, but it is reflected in the faithfulness with which we use whatever that number may be. I can choose to see the resources in my hands not only as provisions for my own life, but as opportunities to contribute to someone else's.
Peter 4:10 reminds us that we are to use whatever gifts we have received to serve one another, as faithful stewards of God's grace. I may never know the full reach of the love I give, just as I may never know all the ways God's generosity has shaped my own life. But I can choose to live in a way that reflects it. Similarly, I cannot control how history remembers me. I can, however, be intentional about what I do with the life I have been given. And if, one day, the most meaningful thing someone can say about me is that I loved people - well, I think that will be a legacy worth leaving.
Dearest Lord, thank you for the gifts, opportunities, and resources you have entrusted to us, and help us use them faithfully. Remind us that stewardship is not measured by how much we have, but by how willingly we share what you have given us. Whether that be our patience, kindness, the materials we have accumulated, or even just a smile. May our words, actions, and choices reflect your love, and may the legacy we leave be a reflection of the love and trust you have place in us. Amen.
Genevieve found Peace Church in May, just days after graduating college and moving to Kansas City. She officially joined the church in August, and remains in awe of the love, inspiration, community, and hope found within the Peace Church community.