Last night I was sitting in the lounge with my family. They were watching TV and I was using our laptop, idly thinking about what I might write for this post. I started writing but either I was distracted by the TV, or the family, or just couldn’t seem to think what to write about.
But then I noticed a book my wife is reading “What Should I DO With My Life” by Po Bronson. It was just there on the arm of the chair. Intrigued I picked it up, and read a page or two. It seemed quite interesting but reading someone elses words were not what I wanted, right then.
And then my wife started up a conversation with our son about the amount of time he’s not spending revising for exams. She asked him what was his purpose in sitting the exams. His answer was so he could go to university. We kept him digging to find a deeper purpose for a while.
And I remember how that day I had spent a fair bit of time, at my work desk, looking at what goals I could set myself to achieve my annual bonus. I had brainstormed several ideas before settling on three which I think will be a good fit for my purpose this year.
It’s odd how suddenly my life is filled with questions about purpose. Is this confluence of events about purpose just a coincidence or is there a deeper guiding force behind them, bringing the subject to my attention? Is life telling me something? Like, “Phill Jenkins, you should look at your purpose in life. What are you doing? Where are you going?”.
Or maybe it isn’t odd. Maybe life (God, Allah, call it what you want) does not have a purpose, fate, destiny for me. But rather it is I that gives a purpose to my life. Perhaps having a purpose is fundamental to what it is to be a human. And I’m just waking up to that.