My Purpose/Reason

My Purpose and my Reason wrestled with

June 10, 2008, 10:56 PM

I fluttered about so much looking for my reason, my purpose. Now it seems I've found what that reason is. I wrestled with God for years asking and pleading for that reason. The path before me is wrought with loneliness and resistance. I have stepped out in faith and find myself stripped of all my comforts. God was so good to gift me with an environment I needed. He gave me friends and teachers I did no deserve. He gave me disciples I could not be who ought to have been for. I am unworthy to have had all that He blessed me with. So then why am I so sad about the path before me? Why must it hurt so much to be away from those I love?

If life is meant to be pain free, then my logical step is to move back to Florida. But life is not about seeking the path of least resistance. Life is not meant to be absent of pain. The essence of life cannot be defined by those who are near you, for if such were so then I would be a thousand miles away from my essence. The closer I am to taking the steps I must take the more it hurts.

My relationship with my father has been mended beyond what I could have hoped for. My father wants, as he always has, what is best for me. I am stressed between the desire to not be selfish and being faithful to what the calling is that has been brought before me. My father has been providing for me and helping me look for work, and for that I am overtaken with unspoken gratitude. It seems, though, that the path he would have for me would take me further away from my immediate path. It seems he would be happy with me getting a job I would probably be discouraged with so long as it would provide a good pay and have stability. These things are wise and smart in and of themselves. Had I no seeable direction and end, I would have no problem submitting myself to these things. But there is much that God has directed me towards. It feels impossible to ask him to believe this. It must seem to him these are the petulant musings of someone who has yet to grow up.

Herein is the source of tension in my life. I fear, as I always have, letting my father down. I feel like I am. If I had stayed in Florida and, perhaps, joined the Army Reserve, I could be closer to the path I'm called to. I know I have to be here now. I know that I am supposed to learn what it means to honor my mother and my father. Above all I know I am to honor God. If I am not honoring my parents I know that I cannot honor God. The line there was so much clearer when I was a thousand miles away. At least, in my ignorance it seemed such.

I have failed so much and so many people. It feels so inevitable that I am going to fail. At least my failure was clear when I was in Ocala. I'd failed as a missionary. I was told by a pastor that I, "probably ought to be married before I ever go back onto the field." I'm not married. I loved a woman for two years ending solely in friendship. In God's preparing my heart to come up here my mind separated my heart from certain friendships I once found sweet as honey. People I should have been a more perfect example for I failed in embracing my selfishness. I should have been a better employee: more astute, quicker, more precise, and so much more.

I do not speak out of regret. These things are sad and needful of repentance. So from here on out I can see that I can learn from that sloth and those slovenly attitudes. Those things are fine. But the question is if these things are the pattern by which my life has progressed, hasn't that set for what is going to happen? I do not ask this out of a lack of faith. Perhaps it is a lack of faith. If I had more faith, wouldn't I see the coming struggle as a gift? Would I not see this pain as a gift and not question my Master's assertion? A.W. Tozer said, "Faith never asks questions once it has been established that God has spoken." so I do pray that God would give me both determination and peace with where I am headed.

Romans 9:20-21 But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, "Why have you made me like this?" Has the potter no right over the clay…?"