Really, how do we live right?
In this world, where every question seems to have an answer at the tip of your fingers and everything you need is readily available—ten steps to gain wealth: follow them, be disciplined and open-minded, and surely your bank account will turn into millions; five steps to be authentic and you’ll find your match made in heaven. A piece of cake! These changes are meant for our good, but not everything is truly beneficial.
So really, how should we live right as Christians, as young adults in this generation?
Have you ever noticed that we have higher standards now than before, but not biblical standards?
We crave truth and freedom, and it all sounds good, pleasing to the ears, gentle to the soul. But the kind of truth this world offers is vain, futile, and shallow. It doesn't set us free—it imprisons the depths of the soul.
People call it freedom: “Live to the fullest while you’re young.” “Do what you love, as long as it feels right.” That’s what they call truth now.
But the truth has become subjective. We’ve normalized sin. Everything is just “okay” now. Ask questions, and you’ll be labeled judgmental. Call out sin, and they’ll say you’re unloving. Even the Church is being misunderstood and labeled as judgmental. No one wants to hear the hard truth anymore. People only want the soft gospel—the kind that comforts but never convicts.
This is not the truth Jesus offers. His truth liberates, forgives, redeems, and heals—liberating us from the sins we keep, healing us from the pain the world brings, forgiving us for the wrong things we've done, and redeeming us from the death inside us. His truth breathes new life into us. And this truth gives us freedom—not just to do what feels right, but to do what God wills. It means constantly dying to ourselves—our desires, our pride, our ego.
Look at us now.
We young adults carry more fear than the generation before us. We chase a picture-perfect life—smooth, curated, uninterrupted. We have thousands of podcasts teaching us how to be productive so we won’t be seen as lazy, thousands of self-help books on how not to be depressed, how to find purpose on our terms. We want badly to be successful. We’re hungry for rags-to-riches stories, fairy-tale romances, viral wins. We’re desperate for purpose, beauty, freedom, and meaning. We’re bombarded with so much noise, and here we are: more anxious, more afraid, more confused.
Even as Christians, we struggle to be the salt and light of the world.
We lack depth in the Word. Maybe our light is dim, flickering. Maybe we’ve become more bitter than salty. We look for security in ourselves. We want to be sure first before we follow. We hesitate to take risks for Jesus, to share the gospel. We’ve grown comfortable just sitting in the pews.
Yeah… I’ve been asking these questions a lot lately: how do I live right?
Turning twenty-eight adds a bit of pressure. And my head is full of questions. It seems like everyone else my age knows exactly where they’re going and what they’re supposed to do.
Am I just running around in circles?
Am I just beating the air
And then, the questions start to hit back at me: Meryl, is your life rooted in the truth? Are your standards biblical, or are they built on what seems intellectual or trendy? Is that why you feel so pressured lately?
Are you looking forward to eternity or just the future you hope to create?
Are you being the salt and light of this world? Has your aroma grown bitter?
Are you walking in obedience are you hiding? Maybe even rebelling because of your unbelief?
Are you asking, “What’s in it for me?” or “What can I give?”
Are your hands open or tightly closed?
Are you ready to break camp and advance, or do you just want to stay where you are, stuck, stiff, safe?
Gulp. Sigh.
Seez. That’s a bar. It cuts deep.
And then I realized: We don’t need to be sure of ourselves to be sure of where we’re heading. We don’t need to protect ourselves when God desires that we find our security in Christ not to be controlled by our willpower, but to be led by the power of the Holy Spirit, to live with a kingdom mindset, not an earthly one, to look forward to eternity, not just the good fortune this world can offer.
We have a race to run—to gain the crown that will last forever.
Not to baby our pains.
Not to focus on ourselves.
Not to chase more meaning or satisfaction in what this world offers.
Not to let our light flicker,
Not to dwell in fear or throw pity parties when hardship comes.
We, believers, are called to be brave, not because we know everything will turn out exactly how we want,
but because we know He is with us. He guides us. He runs with us.
And so, we fix our eyes on the end goal.
Maybe we’ve grown too attached to this world. We forget—we’re just pilgrims here. Our years are fleeting, and our appetite for heaven has grown dull. We want many things for ourselves first. We endlessly nibble at the table of the world, hoping it will fill us.
As John Piper once said: “The key to Christian living is a thirst and hunger for God. And one of the main reasons people do not understand or experience the sovereignty of grace and the way it works through the awakening of sovereign joy is that their hunger and thirst for God is so small.”
So maybe the question isn’t just: How do we live right?
Maybe it’s: Are we hungry enough for God to live right at all?
Because just like Paul, we’re not meant to run aimlessly or live without intention. This life isn’t about fighting shadows or drifting with trends. It’s about discipline, surrender, and running with our eyes fixed on the eternal prize—choosing daily to live for what truly lasts. To lay down self, to live with purpose, to be anchored in truth.
“Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air.
No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others,
I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.”
— 1 Corinthians 9:26–27 (NIV)
