Eternal God,
You are the Author of every generation,
the Keeper of every breath,
the One who numbers my days with care and wisdom.
From Adam to Noah,
You recorded each life,
each cry,
each sigh
not as a forgotten list,
but as a story You are telling.
This chapter reminds me
life is short,
even when it is long.
All our days end with the same refrain
“And he died.”
The curse still lingers.
Dust we are,
and to dust we return.
Lord, teach me to number my days,
that I may gain a heart of wisdom (Psalm 90:12).
These names are not just echoes of the past
they are reminders
that I too walk in the footsteps of mortals,
that sin’s consequence is still with us,
but so is Your covenant.
I confess, I often live as if I will never die
chasing what cannot last,
forgetting what truly matters.
I spend my energy on comfort,
not calling.
I drift through days instead of walking with You.
But then I read
“Enoch walked with God.”
And my soul stirs.
Lord, let it be said of me.
Not that I succeeded.
Not that I achieved.
But that I walked with You
through the mundane and the marvelous,
through sorrow and song,
through silence and shouting.
Let my life be a rhythm of communion,
a journey marked by presence,
not performance.
Enoch did not taste death,
and in him I see a shadow of hope
a promise that death does not get the final word.
That there is a way of life so surrendered,
so saturated in Your presence,
that it transcends the grave.
Lord, I walk in the dust of those who came before
fathers and mothers of the faith.
Let me carry their torch,
not their regrets.
Let me honor the past,
but live fully in the now.
Make me a living legacy.
Not just remembered for how long I lived,
but how closely I walked with You.
Make my family line not just one of names,
but of faith.
Let my children, and their children,
know You through the way I lived.
Even in a world marred by death,
You were writing a redemptive story.
From Adam came Seth,
and from Seth came Noah,
and from Noah, one day Jesus.
Life breaking through the sentence of death.
Grace hidden in generations.
So here I am, Lord.
In my generation.
In my time.
With whatever years I am given.
Let me walk with You.
Not ahead, not behind
but with.
Let my every step echo with trust,
every breath carry Your name.
And when my days are done,
when the last line is written,
may it simply read
“He/She walked with God, and God took him/her.” Until then,
lead me in the way everlasting.
In the name of Jesus
the First and the Last,
the Resurrection and the Life
Amen.