When you know where you’ve come from, and where you’re going, and what you’re capable of, then you can know what your purpose is.

Origin + Destination + Potential = Purpose

Take Jesus, for example: He knew he came from God. He knew he was returning to God. And he knew that all things were under his power. So what did he do with that divine origin, divine destination, and unlimited potential? He washed his disciples’ feet. Surprising, to say the least!  If we’re being honest, it actually seems kind of foolish, backwards, and ridiculous.

You can just feel it all around you. There is a tension and a breathlessness as you sense that something is coming to a close. There is a sense of shifting weight, as if you’re leaning from one era into another.

A common human tendency in such times is to check out, to begin to withdraw and pull away from others. Mostly, I think, from both my own experience and in observing others, this is largely unconscious. Maybe we’re already so excited that we’re half living in the future. Maybe we’re hoping to lessen the pain of goodbyes. Or maybe to avoid the goodbyes altogether. Maybe we’re hoping for a gentle and slow fadeout, like the end of a movie.

This is common, and maybe not always or entirely bad, but I can’t say that I recommend it as a best practice. Why? Because most of the time our distancing and withdrawal from others is received as unloving.

Sometimes I just want to say whatever I damn well feel like saying.

Why? Because I have thoughts and opinions. Because it feels good to speak my mind. And because I can. Freedom of speech is protected under the U.S. Constitution, and as an American I’ll make the most of that First Amendment, thank you very much.

Jesus didn’t enjoy such freedom of speech under the government of his day. The Roman Empire, notoriously, was not too keen on citizens saying whatever they felt like saying. There were swift and harsh punishments. So for that contrast I am deeply grateful. I feel profoundly blessed to be an American. For this and many other reasons, I’d rather live in no other country at no other time thus far in human history.

As it turns out, isn’t as much of a deal-breaker to Jesus as we might assume. Why is that? I think it’s because he understands how much of what he says is quite unbelievable and hard to swallow. In the gap between what he knows and what we are able to wrap our minds around we experience his great patience.

Like a good father talking to his toddler daughter about how plants grow.

Like a good teacher explaining a mind-boggling mathematical equation to her students.

Like a good economist giving advice to a teenager about principles of saving and investing.

Like a good doctor explaining a course of treatment to a patient.

If you want to know what God Looks like, look at Jesus.

If you want to know what God Sounds like, listen to Jesus.

If you want to know how God acts, watch Jesus.

If you want to know what God loves or hates, pay attention to Jesus.

If you want to know what God’s purposes are, note the trajectory of Jesus.

No, Jesus is not physically present, and that, to be honest, is a complication. It’s at least not ideal if you’re trying to get to know someone. So then, on to the next best thing: Read the Gospels. More than that, marinate yourself in the Gospels. Let them be the primary source of input about Jesus and God and the Spirit and faith and sin and humanity and how it all blends together. Let them be the primary force that shapes how you see reality.

More than once in your lifetime. Why? Because that’s just what happens whenever anyone gets close to Jesus… and then gets even closer to Jesus. Conversion after conversion. Most of them are little conversions, like tiny tremors in the earth that barely register on a seismograph. A handful you will feel rumble beneath your feet. One or two will make it feel like your whole world is about to crumble.

However that may strike you, trust me that it’s all good news.

It’s not always as easy as it sounds. It doesn’t always come as quickly as we would like.

Despite our best intentions and deepest longings, sometimes our hearts are just a bit too hard. Sometimes our eyes are just a bit too blind. Sometimes our understanding is just a bit too dull. Sometimes our whole selves are just a bit too something.

That’s the funny thing about faith: What we need most often eludes us. It is outside of our control. It doesn’t always work to turn trust on and off like a light switch, or to turn love on and off like a faucet. Faith is more of a gift than a paycheck: It can be received, but not earned.

Doesn’t mean it’s time to quit. Not necessarily.

If you’re doing good work yet feel unappreciated, if you’re impacting individual lives but the crowds don’t notice, if you come alive doing what you’re doing but no one seems to care, you have two options:

Quit.

Keep going.

Don’t miss your opportunity to take a few steps forward.

In the modern developed world, we don’t often have to think about light. We rarely have to worry about its absence. If we’re driving at night, the car has headlights—including high beams in case it’s extra dark. With the flick of a switch, a room is illuminated. Except of course for the occasional power outage. But even then, we have flashlights stashed in every room. Even our cell phones now have flashlights.

Light is within our control.

Is a failed Messiah. Always has been. It’s why the crowds around Jesus couldn’t make heads or tails of his “Son of Man will be lifted up” talk. They knew that “Son of Man” was a euphemism for the Messiah, and that “lifted up” was a euphemism for crucifixion.

How could one liberate people from the oppression of the Empire if he himself was killed by the Empire? Extreme cognitive dissonance.