I was 27 when my life changed forever. I lost one of my best friends.

He was the most generous person I knew and a real source of strength and support to many of us. He was a Christian – “one of the best”, people would say.

But in May 2015, he was violently taken away by the sea.

Sometimes you forget about the brutal power of nature. Water is a deceptive beast. Under the seemingly calm surface may lie a raging torrent.

I still recall that day in vivid detail – for better or for worse. The crashing waves. The salt in the air.

The utter panic that ensued.

Watching as someone you love vanishes before your eyes and knowing that you cannot save him profoundly changes you. His gasps still loop in my nightmares; the grief of my helpless resignation still rings in my bones.

When you’re in your twenties, you think you are invincible. That you can do anything. The world’s your oyster. You can change the world. Et cetera.

Then life – or the loss of it – happens and nothing is ever the same.

Three of us gave eulogies at my friend’s funeral. The hall was packed with the ones he’d left behind, a sea of shared sorrow and pain. It was one of the most difficult things I’ve had to do. How do you sum up a person’s life in 5 minutes? What do you want him to be remembered for?

Professionally, he was excellent at what he did – the best in the state at one point in his career. But in the end, no one mentioned those things. We could have. Instead, we each found ourselves speaking about his generosity, selflessness, joyful spirit, loving disposition and Christlikeness.

These questions have surfaced in my heart ever since: Do career, social status and material achievements evaporate when you die? Clearly one’s legacy – what you leave behind for those after you – cannot be made up of these things.

We each found ourselves speaking about his generosity, selflessness, joyful spirit, loving disposition and Christlikeness.

Legacy. That’s a heavy word for a twentysomething. Ever wondered what people will say at your funeral? Maybe you want to be known as that investment banker who closed more than 300 deals in one calendar year, with a value north of Singapore’s GDP.

Or maybe you want to be remembered as the entrepreneur who bought his own Porsche before the age of 30. Or the guy who married a total babe from college.

I’m not yet 30, but a good part of my life has become defined by my career as a lawyer in commercial law. My team and I have fought tooth and nail for the big deals. To be honest, I’ve enjoyed the status that accompanies the job.

But when I die, will any of this matter? Does it matter when I vanish like a mist (James 4:14)?

After my friend’s passing, I took some time off work to reflect and think about the future. Sufjan Stevens’ album Carrie & Lowell  had just come out. The album is about the death of Sufjan’s mother, their relationship and his grief of losing her. It became my soundtrack for that time period.

Since the day of the funeral, I knew I had to start living my life with purpose and significance. My friend’s death had to mean something more to me. What I chose to spend my days doing henceforth had to count for something more. Yes, God establishes my steps (Proverbs 16:9), but am I following His Will?

My friend was really the most generous person I knew – he always gave so much of himself to others.

So many people somehow believe that living your life to the fullest means travelling, seeing the world and enjoying life’s pleasures. But I’m starting to see that significance can be found in the simple things: Walking closely with Jesus, being in tune with His still small voice and prioritising my relationships with Him and others.

My friend was really the most generous person I knew – he always gave so much of himself to others. He wasn’t particularly well-off but always did good to everyone. And it cost him dearly – time, energy and his emotions – but he did it anyway. He was the best example of Galatians 6:10. 24/7.

Therefore, whenever we have the opportunity, we should do good to everyone—especially to those in the family of faith. (Galatians 6:10)

As followers of Jesus, we are called to be the salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13). We should live and love as Christ did. We should lead others to Christ. Be pioneers and changemakers for the Kingdom.

I’m starting to see that significance can be found in the simple things: Walking closely with Jesus and being in tune with His still small voice.

But the truth is, I’m not sure that I’m doing enough of that. I still chase deals and burn the midnight oil for my job. I’m not suggesting that work isn’t God-ordained – I just feel like I could do more. I want to preserve my friend’s legacy, but at times I don’t think I do it justice with my own life.

Those words on that three-page eulogy I wrote for him – I think about them often. That’s what I should be living out. That’s what my legacy should be like.

“He has shown you, O man, what is good … to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)

I want to be remembered as someone who loved God and others generously and without condition. I want to have lived a life that Christ would’ve been proud of. There is a time for everything (Ecclesiastes 3) and that time is limited. Our worldly achievements mean nothing.

Life is a series of chapters, and death is the final punctuation at the end of our last one.

In the words of an article by the Huffington Post: Are you living your eulogy or your résumé?

Kenneth Lee lives in Perth, Western Australia. From Mondays to Fridays, he is a mergers and acquisitions lawyer. On the weekend, he attends and volunteers as a barista at Riverview Church. He is very happily married to Stephanie, the love of his life.