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I’m an introvert.

That being said, my job requires me to get up on stage and lead worship or give a concert—weird, I know. Somehow though, when I get on stage I am able to flip a switch and become an extrovert for those next 30 or 40 minutes. On the contrary, if I am on a flight traveling to some distant city, I’m the guy who puts his hoodie up and his headphones in, and hopes no one wants to talk.

There are a few reasons why I do this. Most of the time, I end up beside the person who wants to know my whole life story, or better yet, tell me his. I mean, I enjoy a good story as much as anyone else, but when his breath smells bad and we are in a confined area, it doesn’t bode too well with me.

But getting stuck at the airport is even worse. Everyone hates when it happens! I have somewhere to be! I have stuff to do! I have people to see!

The problem with these scenarios is that they are all centered on the word “I.”  I can worry about how much money I make, what kind of house I have, what kind of car I drive, etc., etc., etc.

Everything around me tells me to focus on I. In a world where I am told to focus on what we want and what makes me happy, I keep hitting dead ends. And at the end of those roads are massive letdowns. I can run around and make as much money as I possibly can to buy as much stuff as I possibly can, but doing so leads me back to the same place every time, feeling rather bored and empty.

The problem is this: I was created for something a lot better than stuff and a lot bigger than me. In a couple of generations, no one is going to remember my name, and I will be long gone. I have a choice every moment of my day to decide what I am living for. Truth is, everyone lives for the glory of something or someone. And so I must ask myself, For what or for Whom do I live?

If I want to leave a legacy of something that will be remembered, the story of ME is way too small.