There have been many periods in my life where I found myself waking up in the middle of the night, or distracted from thought in the thick of the day, full of the heaviness of the unknown. I never had a name for this feeling, other than it had the burden of some kind of existential angst. It wasn’t as if I was deeply unhappy, but I felt as if I was drowning in a question bigger than me. I couldn’t pray it away, I ran miles and miles and couldn’t leave it behind me, I wrote and wrote and couldn’t word my way beyond it. Each time I would find that it was still waiting for me, the question that would never leave me alone. It was: What is my purpose? What is the point of this day in and day out routine? Why was I put here on earth? In college, I wandered through poetry, scripture and novels. I did yoga, practiced meditation and traveled around the world. I met a creation that was so much bigger than the place of my childhood and the more I sought, the fewer answers I found, just more questions, more wonderings, more examination of the moments that felt like a gift I didn’t know what to do with.
My burning question is one that has plagued human beings for ages. It seems that with each new era of thought, or philosophy or theological insight, with each generation comes a new response to this ancient human yearning- this longing to know what is the point and purpose of our own lives. Albert Camus observed that we humans are creatures who spend our lives trying to convince ourselves that our existence is not absurd, which at times has felt true for me. Given all that we endure, whether or not it is of our own making, our lives can feel more like a boat on the roaring seas with no compass than one anchored safely in the harbor preparing for a grand voyage. When the waves come crashing down on us, we want to know that in the end, the pain will bring us to the soft landing found on the shore.
For some, this thing called life is focused toward a common goal or a shared good. According to Plato, the meaning of life lies in attaining the highest form of knowledge, which is a common good. And all good and just things derive utility and value from this shared goal. Further, he contends that human beings are duty-bound to pursue the good. For others, living a particular way leads to a kind of tranquility which offers purpose. Stoicism contends that living according to reason and virtue is a way to be in harmony with the divine order of the universe. And the recognition of reason is put forth as an essential value of all people. The meaning of life is freedom from suffering through the task of "clear judgment", over indifference. With the age of Enlightenment came a focus on reason and less on humanity’s relationship to God and more on the relationship between individuals and their society. And Existentialism brought with it claims that each person creates the meaning of his or her life and therefore life only has the meaning we ascribe to it. And yet the Christian heart is not left here. When we search for meaning, we hear again Jesus’ words, “Abide in me as I abide in you.” For us, it seems purpose just might begin in the art of abiding in God.
Augustine observed that, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.” There is no peace in the heart, for any meaning-seeking soul, until it abides in God. Each one of us has an empty spot in our hearts that is somehow in the shape of God. It cannot be filled or satisfied by anyone or anything other than our loving God. Martin Copenhaver writes, “This empty space is not a square hole, or anything so simple as that, but a complex, hungering, God-shaped space where only God fits and only God can fill. Try as we might to fill that space with other things - with human relationships, earthly success, a reconstruction of our past - sooner or later they will leave us unsatisfied. What we long for is something else and something more. Our homesickness is a yearning for God.”
It took me looking long and hard and searching far and wide to remember what I knew all along. It is what we are told in our baptisms: God has claimed each of us. And while this isn’t the final answer, for the Christian, knowing that we are claimed by God leads us to ask how this deep and enduring truth can be the source of our purpose. In the Gospel of John, Jesus says to us, “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit.” And I wonder if the fruit is the purpose. I wonder if the fruit is what emerges when we have sought God long and hard- when we have fallen and struggled, danced and shouted into the world that we are. I wonder if the fruit is something that can only grow after the search for purpose has lasted long enough for the layers of ego and self-centered living to be peeled off and pruned. Richard Rohr writes, “It's not addition that makes one holy but subtraction: stripping the illusions, letting go of pretense, exposing the false self, breaking open the heart and the understanding....” What if the purpose of the Christian life is to abide in God so fully that we are pruned enough to bear fruit? What if our purpose is not as much about finding an answer but about bearing fruit?
I can claim very few certainties. But it seems to me that each of us has some focus for our time here on earth. We might call it God’s plan for us, God’s hope or map or purpose for our lives. Each of us is something like holy, living art whose purpose is only known when our unique gifts are matched with the needs of our own little world. So, shat if our own purpose is not found in a refined philosophical truth but discovered in the openness that is required when we follow Jesus? Maybe being claimed by God is the invitation to find a home, a home that comes only after we are pruned; after we are open enough to see that this life is not wholly about our own purpose but about God’s, about how God can use us. The question for us then changes from what is my purpose, to how can God use my gifts, my love, and my spirit to create more beauty in the world? How can abiding in God change me enough to live out what has been given to me? How can God work through each of us with all of our quirks and imperfections to brighten even the smallest corner of God’s creation? Jesus says, “Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.” Perhaps, abiding in God is the only peace we can ever have in this life. But we hear anew today that when we bring our hearts to abide in God, to make a home in God, we are choosing to bear fruit, choosing to be open, choosing to be pruned and nurtured, choosing to join God’s work in the world. May today be a day where we ask not what is the purpose of our days, but how might God use our joy, our passion, our energy, our gifts to join the world with God’s purpose. May we abide in God. Amen.