Who am I? Where do I belong? What is my place in life? What is my purpose?
As I enter my senior year in high school, preparing myself for college, these are the questions I keep asking myself. Everything I do, all the choices I have to make, force me back to these questions, to one in particular – what is my purpose in life? When I try to pick my major or pick which colleges I want to attend, my decision once again comes down to my purpose in life.
I believe we all have a purpose. I believe that we were put here for a reason, that God wants us in a specific place, at a specific time. There is a plan for us, no matter how big or how small. And in believing this, I can’t help but worry. What if I miss it? What happens if I make the wrong choice and I’m not where I’m supposed to be?
My father has a completely different view from mine on what he thinks my purpose is in life. He expects me to be perfect, to be the best, and he pushes me towards that goal. Ordinarily, this isn’t a bad thing. The only problem is that he has such high expectations of me that I could never ascend to that level. Consequently, I am never enough. I am not sure exactly sure what he wants me to do when I graduate, but I think he has a vision of me one day working in an office, as an accountant or some such desk job. He has no qualms about this life for me, but I dream of something bigger. I refuse to see that my purpose is to be punching numbers or filing papers. I want my purpose to be something more, such as helping people who need it, or successfully owning and running a substantial corporation that is beneficial to others.
So perhaps we fabricate our own purpose in life. I believe that no matter how it comes about, we have a God given purpose to carry out. All we have to do is trust.
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