Failsafe

We are the last generation to grow up offline. We lived through the infancy of the internet, watching it evolve from the Lycos dog, ConceptArt.org, and an Amazon that only sold books—where next-day delivery felt like a pipe dream—into today’s hyper-connected, hyper-extroverted digital ecosystem. Unlike Gen Z, who were raised with infinite tutorials at their fingertips, we had to figure it out on our own, learning digital tools as we went, while our boomer parents observed all this from the same perspective of a time they grew up in—marriage, kids, mortgage—while the tectonic plates of digital evolution moved right under our feet. Even in our professional lives, the pressure to constantly adapt has been relentless.

We also witnessed the world evolve in ways we couldn’t have imagined. I remember returning home from school on 9/11 to see the Twin Towers fall on TV, a moment that made it painfully clear that the world was not only advancing digitally but was also in a state of geopolitical turmoil. That tragic event marked the beginning of a new era—one where we had to learn to navigate not only rapid technological change but also global uncertainty.

Our education was no sanctuary, either. We were taught theories and skills that became obsolete the moment we graduated, especially in fields where digital tools evolved at breakneck speed. We were told to follow our dreams, to build lives different from our parents’. But reality hit hard. The 2008 crash rewrote the rules of success. Jobs became gigs. Housing became unattainable. The world didn’t reward ambition the way we were led to believe. So, we adapted—again. We tricked our minds into believing fulfillment could be found in the next project, the next reinvention. But now, as we approach middle age, many of us are realizing: it wasn’t enough.

And the change isn’t stopping. Even as I write this, AI is accelerating at an exponential rate—getting faster, cheaper to train, moving from incremental progress to evolutionary strides. The ground beneath us keeps buckling, and the constant need to adapt, which once made us resilient, now feels exhausting.

So, we search for a failsafe—something real, something lasting. Some look for it in financial stability, in fresh starts, in the pursuit of yet another goal. But beneath it all is the quiet realization that no amount of success, no dream job, no personal brand will ever be enough to satisfy the deeper need for meaning.

This is where faith enters the conversation. Not as a fallback, but as the only thing that ever made sense. A foundation that doesn’t shift with failed ventures, changing algorithms, or the passing of time. In Christ, success is no longer measured by what we achieve, but by who we become. There is peace in knowing we were never meant to build a life on things that don’t last.

Perhaps the greatest lesson of our generation isn’t how to adapt—but how to let go.