Tag Archives: evidence of God’s presence

PURPOSE – Write 31:Day 12

purposeclick on this picture to download the pdf

“Purpose certainly makes life worth living. God has given you this desire for His delight and will surely hold you up when you stumble on the path.” {Psalm 37:23}

“I want to be a doctor.”

She was emphatic in her claim. She knew what she wanted – admirable. I smiled sweetly at the six year old face, set and determined before me. I gave her a “that is so cute” pat upon the head, and continued my conversations with the adults gathered around.

Flash forward twenty-two years, and this little six year old girl is indeed a doctor.

I’ve always envied those who recognize exactly who they are and what they want.  Especially so if they know early on what they want to be when they grow up.  I still don’t. It freaks me out some times that I change professions almost as often as clothing – well maybe not quite as much as that, but you get the idea. What makes one person know with certainty what they will do with the rest of their lives (and at the ripe old age of six!), and another enters midlife with absolutely not a clue?

I used to think that the problem lay with me.

  •  I want too much.
  • I get bored too easily.
  • I’m lazy.
  • Scattered.
  • Stupid.

For years I viewed it as a handicap – my inability to commit to a lifetime goal. But I’ve come to realize a few things recently that has changed my perspective:

  1. God made me exactly how I am – and for a reason. Who am I to say that He made a mistake? He has equipped me with exactly what I need to accomplish precisely the plan He has for my future. I can’t imagine at this point what that must be but just because I don’t know what that is in this moment, doesn’t mean that I don’t have a purpose.
  2. God’s plans have perfect timing – This morning I read again the story of Sarah and how she became a first time mother at the age of eighty-nine. Did you get that? Eighty- Nine! The prelude to this miraculous fulfilling of a promise of purpose, is a life of faith. Doing the everyday tasks exactly where she was. Keeping their home, tending the garden, cooking the meals, caring for the workers. Sound familiar? God waited until there was no doubt that it was Him. His power. His purpose. His perfect plan, in His perfect time.
  3. Just because I don’t have a precise objective, doesn’t make what I am doing any less important – The beauty of this is that every day is a learning experience. I know that everything I traverse in the regular traveling’s of my day will equip me; bring me closer to that right-on-time miracle of God. No matter how seemingly insignificant the daily tasks are, they all work together to prepare me for what comes next.

Not having a specific commitment has left my life open for the calling of God. I view it as “purpose-in-training”. At any given moment I will be able to say “Yes, send me!”  Having PURPOSE is truly something that we all want and search for, even those who don’t follow God feel this.  We want to know that our lives matter, and that we are doing something that makes a difference. But please realize that my purpose won’t look like your purpose. Just because I’m not saving lives every day in a hospital doesn’t make what I was made to do any less important. All of our purposes – every single one – work together to fulfill His purpose.

And that is what brings me HOPE.

2purposeDid you like this post? Please consider sharing it with a friend.  Post it on your facebook page, twitter feed, pinterest, or post your colored picture on instagram…where ever you think someone can use a little HOPE.

As a little added bonus: All comments on the write 31 days posts will be entered to win all of the colored cards for this series. These are colored by hand (by me :)and ready to give. Winner will be announced in November. Good luck 🙂

Don’t forget to click on the picture at the top of the page to download the pdf version of the PURPOSE picture.  Color it and share, or enjoy yourself.

God bless your day!




Branches ripped and slashed at my bare arms as I sprinted down the trail. I was breathing heavy now, weeks of inactivity stealing from me the youthful energy that was once mine. I quickly glanced down at my arm as another thorn slashed at my upper arm, drawing blood and leaving behind evidence of my passage. I did not want to leave such proof of my escape route, but there was no helping it now.  I heard in the distance barking and shouting.

They knew.

Down the trail I ran, silently thanking the deer who had tread here before me. Although it was narrow, the path was sure for my feet, only having an occasional branch or trench that required a leap. And wasn’t this all a leap of faith?

The dream that I woke from this morning had left me breathless and wondering if its message had been prophetic. In it, my captors had approached me with knives of all shapes and sizes. Even though I could not understand their words, my heart knew their intent. They had stopped before me and spewed a series of words; sentences.  All which I could not decipher. Then one word caught my attention: Jesus.

Who were these men? What did they want from me?

When I was taken three weeks before, I had been on my way to meet with friends. I had carried my source of strength in the pack upon my back. That had been the first thing they took from me, followed closely by my freedom.  I didn’t remember much after that, only waking inside the cabin that would be my prison, hands bound, and the pack a fading memory. Now, my strength lived only within my heart, but the light from it glowed with an intensity only my soul understood.

Three weeks they had come to me, shouting. Daily their intelligible interrogation assaulted my senses, not to say anything of the physical assault upon my person.  I did not know how to respond beyond weeping and the wide eyed fear obvious upon my face. But yesterday a camera was set in front of me. The armed man who set it there glared at me with obvious malicious intent, saying nothing, only an evil smirk upon his lips.

That night I dreamt.

As I awakened, the desperate need to escape embodied every fiber of my being. I had been working at the bonds at my wrist for several days, and this morning, my desperation loosed them enough to free my bloodied hands. As I stepped toward the door, I heard the fading voices of my captors, walking away, and I held my breath.  I knew this would be my last opportunity.

Pressing my weakened body through the smallest crack I could manage, I crept toward the woods only twenty steps away. Once in the cover of trees, I sprinted for my life, down trails and through closely growing underbrush I ran, not knowing where I was going, only that the light within me was lighting an obvious path for my feet.

Now, as I ran down the deer trail, I began to smell the wet scent of decaying foliage and moving water. As I burst through the thicket of blackberry branches that ripped and tore through me, I saw the river, and hope bloomed in my speeding heart. Could I swim its racing current to the other side, putting an obstacle between me and those that pursued?

I quickly looked back. I did not see them, but my ears heard the sounds of their rushing pursuit through the leaves, closing in with every step. My eyes scanned the edge of the water looking for anything that could aid my crossing. And then I saw it. Just beyond some branches forming a canopy over the rushing water, I saw a boat.

It was old and weathered, and looked like the current had lodged it tentatively against a root that grew beneath the water from one of the trees along the bank. The boat had missing planks and holes from age and disuse, but it floated. I ran to the river’s edge and launched myself into my rescuers seat. A paddle lay beneath it, and with its help, I pushed myself free from the root’s embrace.

Paddling into the current, the boat caught and twisted me mercilessly. My head spun from the lack of nourishment that my captivity had exacted, but I held on and let the river push me where it would. Then the sound of shouting reached my ears, and I dropped to the floor of the old boat, effectively avoiding their searching eyes and the bullets that soared above its bough.

As I lay there with the sun upon my face, warming my trembling body, I saw something lodged under the seat that I had perched upon, and retrieved it. It was bound in leather, old and worn like the boat itself. I opened the pages of the small book and read the words that greeted my anxious heart:

“If I rise on the wings of dawn, even there Your hand will guide my way.” Psalm 42:8

And I knew I was home.