For a while, I think I've been confused by my own questions. I've been trying to explain away an incongruence between my deep sense of satisfaction and contentment with life with this inability to answer the question of meaning and purpose. Afterall, should I not be feeling rather depressed and "lost" from lack of meaning? Rather, my soul is simply bursting with joy! My days are filled with laughter and love, my heart free as a hawk on a sunny Melbourne autumn day.
I realise I do have meaning, I do have purpose.
I know that I am wonderfully and intricately created, knitted together with a definite destiny. I feel loved, utterly content, brimming with joy. The only reason for this is because my Maker and lover of my soul Jesus Christ is with me and I in Him.
He is my meaning.
Phew! What a relief! I realise that it is no longer a pointless search. The answer is not in some isolated hilltop monestary, and I certainly do not need to hang naked on a tree for 30 days to attain nirvana.
It would seem that I am not seeking the meaning of life at all! Rather it is the meaning of my work, the way I wile the hours away contributing, building, making, creating, managing, working. What is it? I have Life, but have not answered the question of Work. They are not one and the same thing.
What lasting good will I leave on this planet after the vapour that is my life has vanished? What would I have built?
That is the question.
So this quest, this leap into the unknown of gainful unemployment, is simply to discover possibilities of where I can be of greatest use. Not merely to provide for sustenance, but can I contribute to some-thing, some-body, some-place? Doing what? Is there a hope that what my hands find to do for the next 10 years will be not "meaningless", in other words, of some lasting value? Can it be that my work can be of some significanse?
