I’m not big on “living with purpose”.
I should really clarify (and maybe even apologize for the attempt at a hook-y first line?).
The concept of Purpose in life is a good one. Probably even a great one.
It’s the phrase itself that I’ve lost a bit of faith in, if I’m being honest. Assuming I ever had a real faith in it? Has it always been a bit saccharine to my mind? I don’t know.
It seems to have become one of those phrases that means “different things to different people” (a phrase which in itself, oddly enough, has held its meaning quite well. Nice.).
Actually, I think it’s the “purpose” I get hung up on. Maybe THAT’s what has become diluted, at least in my limited view. One person feels a “life’s call” to minister to the hurting and lost, sacrificing their own comfort to help others, while another’s sworn “goal in life” is to make as much money and gain as much good old fashioned clout as possible, because, well, YOLO, amiright? Yet another’s “deepest longing” is to make the best guacamole this or that side of the Mississippi.
Who’s to say which is the right, if not nobler, pursuit? (I actually have a hunch Who, but perhaps that’s too ambitious for this already overly-long post.)
You add the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob — a being that I believe in and pursue knowledge of, and who most definitely asks lives to be dedicated to HIS purpose — to the mix, and well, the (holy?) water, for me at least, clouds real fast. Did the Westminster Assembly hit it on the nose when they said that the chief purpose of man was to glorify God? That jives with what I see in scripture, and I’m not even Reformed (note the capital R, please).
Still, if the latter is true, are parenting and art and corporate employment just time- and space-fillers between the moments of explicit God-glorying activities (such as evangelism and material outreach and wholesale self-sacrifice)? Or, are all of our pursuits, no matter how pedestrian and mundane, sanctified when we dedicate them to a God who designed our better desires and programed our talents within us?
The aisles of our Christian bookstores (or more accurately, the pages we see when we apply the “Religious” filter on Amazon.com) have tomes declaring one or the other, and many nuanced positions in between, to be the case, with compelling evidence abounding.
While I seek an answer to this, and have for some time, and while I have enjoyed the fruits of that seeking in the God-given self-understanding and sanctification, at this point I don’t really know which is closer to the truth. Does God sanctify the desires of our hearts, or do we sacrifice our desires in the fires of God’s calling, one which might or might not take into account our talents?
Well, if I’ve not entered the rabbit hole yet, then I’m prancing through the barley field like a lollipop-laden schoolboy on the first day of summer break and I’d better watch my step.
Let me bring it back to the PURPOSE of this post.
While I might not FULLY grasp what it means to have life-purpose, what I do believe is that my life’s purpose, such as it is, at least in part, has been severely skewed for most of said life, in that I have been overly concerned with what others, particularly what the negative folks in my life, think. Or maybe more to the point, what I IMAGINE they think.
More germane to this outlet, my skewedness in (or flat-out lack of) purpose has affected my writing. I too often filter my words through the lens of what a particular person must be thinking (classic mind reading, or so I’m told).
For example, If 100 people read something I wrote (a large number for me) and 10 say they appreciated it, 89 said nothing, and one was critical, I’d focus on the one and, in my spare time, wonder what the 89 were thinking, often conjuring the worst (some didn’t care enough to read it, and the rest have joined each other at a local pub and they’re laughing at me over a bucket of Bud Lights).
And in the process, I miss a chance to interact with the 10. My audience, and a gift by all means.
Further still, I question the act of writing itself – does the time it takes to do it, and to improve in it, really represent a noble purpose (particularly when your bent is to make inane attempts at humorous observations about parenting, pet-rearing, and fast food?)
Part of the aforementioned “God-given self-understanding” has convicted me in recent weeks that, until and unless God tells me that my purpose in life is to, under no circumstances, write another word, I should write. And while self-editing is important, any hesitation needs to be driven by a healthy respect for language or understanding of an audience, and not a fear of the 1%, who likely are either (1) not paying attention anyway, (2) have a different taste in the written word (heaven forefend!) or (3) are just mad at everything.
So, to those who have read, commented on, and even shared this blog over the past years, not only do I thank you for taking time to read it, but I dedicate that I will write more faithfully, and with less concern for the ghost-critics in my head.
Actually, if I can fix the latter, the former will happen as a result, I think.
Will my ACTUAL audience care to read what I write without that inherent fear? I don’t know.
But, let’s find out.