Finding Meaning

I feel like I have scoured the earth searching for meaning in my life. I am fairly well traveled, having visited several countries in Europe, Africa, South and Central America, and a smattering of other places. In none of my travels did I find meaning or purpose. If anything, the cynic within had a helluva time painting everything with a slightly negative brush. I was focused on the poverty, the uncomfortable bus seats, the amoebic dysentery (or what felt like it, anyway), the multitudes of tourists, the crime. All of the experiences I had were certainly enriching, but I wish I could do it all over again now that I have faith and optimism in my life. I remember all the incredible things I did and saw, but I would love to see what such travels feel like with God (or Good) at my side. 

I am starting to suspect that many people go through life without choosing a purpose. I use the word choosing because that’s actually what happens. We don’t find a purpose. We don’t find meaning in our lives. I think we have to choose it. It’s a bit like searching for and finding a very special rock at the beach or in a river. Maybe it’s smooth, maybe it’s striped, maybe it’s got gem-like protuberances in it, maybe it’s shiny and dark. Whatever it is, it’s special to us and us alone. But we still have to pick it up and bring it home with us. We still have to pick it up and inspect it and decide it is special enough. This is our rock. This will be our purpose. And we have to make it ours. 

When I was younger, I was basically just waiting for someone or something to hit me over the head with meaning and purpose. I tried out all kinds of things trying to figure out what felt right. It turns out my purpose and meaning is the same thing I have been reading about and studying on my own for the last twenty years for free. Some of you might be thinking, well, DUH. Of course my purpose or meaning in life stems from a natural passion. Obviously

Somehow, it was not obvious to me. Somehow, I managed to avoid it for quite some time. I managed to be confused about what I wanted and be afraid to pursue it. I prioritized other things. I tried out other dreams. Looking back, I have no idea why, but I think this is why a lack of faith is so insidious. It’s hard to figure out who we are or what we want if we don’t have a basic faith that we deserve Good things in life. It’s hard to believe in ourselves if we don’t believe in anything. It’s hard to pick a path if it feels full of perils we may have to face totally alone. It’s hard to build a future if we don’t believe we deserve it. 

It’s almost like I had to start dabbling in faith before I could give myself free rein to have dreams, meaning, or purpose. Eventually, I had enough faith that I believed in myself and in my worthiness enough to choose a purpose in life, and decide it was mine. I had to pick up the rock, so to speak. I brought it home, and I admire it every day. It’s beautiful, it’s simple, and it’s mine. 

Previous
Previous

48

Next
Next

46