One Day, They’ll Post About You

You see your reflection.

Now imagine your name on it.

Your photo. Your goodbye.

It’s not real—yet.

But it could be.

____________

One day, someone will post your photo.

No warning. No chance to explain. Just…

“I can’t believe you’re gone.”

“You were just here.”

“This doesn’t feel real.”

People will comment their favorite memories.

They’ll say you were full of life.

They’ll write things they wish they said sooner.

Some won’t say anything at all—just scroll past,

another name, another black square, another “RIP.”

And while the post spreads, life keeps moving.

But not for you.

Your phone will buzz, but you won’t answer.

Your seat at the table will stay empty.

Your name will show up in group texts, and someone will reply,

“They passed.”

And then silence.

You’ll leave behind half-finished plans.

A text you never responded to.

A pile of laundry you meant to fold.

Unspoken apologies.

Unwritten dreams.

And people who needed you.

Your newborn grandchild—who’ll never remember your face.

Your spouse—who won’t know how to keep going without you.

Your best friend—who keeps trying to call, forgetting you’re gone.

Your kids—still needing your wisdom.

Your parents—burying the child they prayed would outlive them.

You leave behind everything you thought you had more time for.

And maybe you didn’t die from something sudden.

Maybe it was the slow result of choices you kept justifying.

The late nights and the fast food.

The scrolling and the ignoring.

The constant dopamine chase—

numbing, escaping, avoiding.

We’re not dying from working too hard.

We’re dying from living too soft.

From trading our health for convenience.

From killing our bodies with what feels good in the moment.

From habits that feel harmless—until they’re fatal.

Some people don’t mean to give up their life.

They just do it one small compromise at a time.

And then, it’s over.

No more wake-up calls.

No more “after the holidays.”

No more “next Monday.”

You don’t rise. You don’t restart. You don’t reply.

You’re just… gone.

And the world?

It keeps spinning.

People go back to work.

They eat dinner.

They forget to text back.

They move on.

Your story is finished—whether you finished it or not.

But here’s the question that matters most when that day comes:

Were you right with God?

Not “Did you believe in something.”

Not “Were you spiritual.”

Not “Did you try to be a good person.”

Did you know Him?

Did you surrender?

Because when the post is made and the flowers are laid,

you won’t be judged by your intentions.

You’ll stand before a holy God.

And there is only one hope in that moment: Jesus.

Not your effort.

Not your reputation.

Only grace.

Only Jesus.

Only surrender.

And the terrifying part?

Some people will read this… and still scroll.

Still wait.

Still say, “Not yet.”

But here’s the part that should wreck you and revive you at the same time:

Today… is not that day.

Not the day your name fills that image.

Not the day your story ends.

Not the day they post about you.

And that means you still have time.

Time to change your habits.

Time to show up for your family.

Time to take care of the body you’ve been mistreating.

Time to steward your life well—your mind, your energy, your purpose.

And most of all, time to get right with God.

So live like it matters.

Say the thing.

Start the thing.

Let go of what’s killing you.

Fix what needs fixing.

Surrender what you’ve been holding back.

Turn around before it’s too late.

Because one day, they’ll post about you.

But today?

You’re still here.

And it’s not too late.