Is there such thing as a calling? What is my purpose here on Earth? Is there even such a thing as purpose, or are we mindless drones, set upon a path of anonymity to keep the world turning? I need to know. I need to have something tangible, something I can grab hold of and focus on. I’m tired of simplistic answers. “If your heart is still beating, you have a purpose.” But what is that purpose? And I’m infinitely tired of Sunday school answers. “Your purpose is to glorify God in whatever you do.” That’s all well and good, if God doesn’t mind me spinning aimlessly along on my hamster wheel.
Glory and meaning are in all things, but I am in no way convinced that just anything will do as a purpose. After all, I’ve been taught that each person has a place in the body of Christ. Why then not in the scheme of the world? After all, a nose knows it is a nose. It doesn’t wonder whether it should be an eye or an ear. I wish I had a clue as to what I was meant to be, just like the nose. Instead I am amorphous. I am an anything, able to mold myself to fit whatever is needed of me. I am a jack of all trade and a master of none. I hate it.
Oh, how I envy the few who have the stroke of destiny to weave their tales for profit. I envy their comfort in grasping their purpose, their security in knowing they need only follow that path, their joy in following those dreams. I envy them while I sit anxiously spinning in my wheel, endlessly living check by check in a job I am “suited” for.
With a family and with responsibilities, I am bound by reality. Callings must needs be pushed back, if not forgotten, in the wake of necessity. Food and shelter take priority over that peace of purpose. And the wheel continues to spin. Effort and strength and will drain away. I am going nowhere despite my best efforts.
Perhaps the truth is that I feel helpless. I know my purpose. I see it each time heart strings are plucked by words I have written. I feel it each time the pen touches paper. And yet… I am helpless to follow it. Nothing died that first year of college, and everything was born, but my dreams shifted to the farthest corner of my reach.
Then again, how else is a calling defined but through hardship? Maybe my hamster wheel is not as static as I thought. Maybe the sea around me is not quite so uncertain.
Posted on September 14, 2012, in Musing, Word Vomit, writing and tagged brain benders, brain dead, crazy talk, facebook, life, lost, motivation, purpose, S. G. Ricketts, twitter, writing. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.