Earlier this week, I spent a couple of days with one of my oldest and closest friends.
As always, we had a wonderful time together. Some friendships are like that. No matter how much time passes between visits, you simply pick up where you left off. We laughed, shared stories, reminisced about old times, and enjoyed being together.
Yet when I drove away, I found myself carrying a low-grade sense of sadness for him.
My friend has never shown much interest in God. Late last year, he lost his job. After an unsuccessful search for another one, he decided to retire. More recently, he made the difficult decision to divorce his wife.
Today, he is free to do almost anything he wants. He can travel wherever he chooses. He can spend his days however he wishes. His calendar is largely unconstrained by obligations.
On the surface, that sounds appealing.
But as I reflected on our conversations, I couldn’t shake a nagging question: What gives his life meaning now?
Please don’t misunderstand me. I am not judging him. In fact, I genuinely enjoy spending time with him and value our friendship deeply. Rather, our time together caused me to reflect on a broader question that applies to all of us.
Where does our sense of purpose come from?
For many people, purpose comes from a career. We spend decades building a profession, solving problems, achieving goals, earning promotions, and providing for our families. Work becomes such a significant part of our identity that it can be difficult to imagine life without it.
Others find purpose in accumulating wealth, pursuing experiences, collecting accomplishments, or chasing the next adventure.
The problem is that all of those things eventually come to an end.
Jobs end.
Careers end.
Health declines.
Relationships change.
Even the most exciting adventures eventually become memories.
If our sense of meaning is built entirely upon temporary things, what happens when those things are gone?
As I pondered this question, I was reminded of one of the first kayaking adventures my wife and I took together.
Our first kayak was inflatable. It was wonderfully convenient because we could pack it into the back of our vehicle and take it almost anywhere. The downside was that it required a fair amount of set-up before each trip.
On one particular outing, I carefully inflated the kayak, assembled the paddles, loaded our gear, and carried everything down to the water.
Then we climbed in and started paddling.
Something didn’t feel right.
We were moving, but not very effectively. We seemed to drift aimlessly. At times, we found ourselves turning in circles. We paddled harder, but we weren’t accomplishing much.
Then I realized what I had done.
In all my preparations, I had forgotten to install the rudder.
Back on shore, I attached it, and suddenly everything changed. The same paddling that had previously produced confusion and frustration now produced forward progress. We had direction. We had purpose. We knew where we were headed.
The kayak could move without a rudder.
It just couldn’t go anywhere meaningful.
The older I get, the more I realize that many people live their lives that way.
They are busy.
They are active.
They are productive.
They may even be successful.
But they are missing the rudder.
They have motion without direction.
Activity without purpose.
Achievement without meaning.
Scripture teaches that God created us for far more than simply filling our days until our time on earth is over.
Paul writes:
For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.
Think about that for a moment.
God has a purpose for your life.
Not just when you are young.
Not just when you are employed.
Not just when you are raising children.
Not just when everything is going well.
Always.
If you belong to Christ, your purpose did not end when your career ended. It did not disappear when your children moved out. It does not depend on your title, your income, your achievements, or your stage of life.
God still has good works prepared for you.
God still has people for you to encourage.
God still has opportunities for you to serve.
God still has lessons for you to learn and ways for you to grow.
The writer of Proverbs puts it this way:
God doesn’t promise an easy path.
He promises a straight one.
He provides direction.
He gives meaning to our efforts.
He supplies purpose that transcends our circumstances.
Looking back on my own retirement, I realize how grateful I am for this truth.
My job was meaningful, and I enjoyed much of the work I did over the years. But my purpose was never found in my job.
Today, I still have a wonderful wife to love.
Children and grandchildren to invest in.
Friends to encourage.
Lessons to learn.
People to serve.
A God to know more deeply.
The same God who guided me through my working years continues to guide me today.
That is what gives my life meaning.
Without Him, retirement could easily become an endless search for ways to fill the calendar.
With Him, retirement becomes another chapter in an ongoing adventure.
As I think back to that day on the water, I am reminded that the kayak’s problem was not a lack of effort. We were paddling plenty hard.
The problem was a lack of direction.
Perhaps that is a question worth asking ourselves.
Are we simply paddling?
Or have we remembered to attach the rudder?
May we seek the One who not only gives us strength for the journey, but also provides the direction, purpose, meaning, and hope that make the journey worthwhile.
Master's Canvas - Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter 