I’ll try my best not to be terribly long-winded. However, I’ve decided to write about a topic that is a question I, and many others ask on many occasions. What is the purpose of life? This life…my life…our life here on Earth. The Bible would tell you it is to serve God. Yet, if that was all it was about, why do I have free will? If all God wanted me to do was worship and praise him, then why do I live on a rock with wicked and lustful temptations? A place we humans call home that has things that I can see, touch, and smell that bring me happiness and joy, coupled with anger and pain. According to the Holy Writ, God made us in his image. Since he is God, it’s obvious his existence isn’t predicated on praising anyone right?
So I have to beg the question that, if I am a spitting image of God, then certainly I have free will to be as much like him as I can. To make things, to destroy them, to get bored with something and want to change other things around. The story of Noah’s Ark was certainly a story of the whimsical nature that is inherent in our make up. Humans destroy what displeases them (rats, roaches, other races, cars, planes, etc) and sometimes have a heart to keep somethings around and give second chances. But what does God do day to day if he exists in the nether-regions of somewhere no one has ever seen before death. Does he simply listen to prayers, answer those that he wants, and hit the silent button on the rest like I do with my cell phone. Is this life we live really just a game and wager between God and The Devil like some people believe or is God trying to accomplish something? This question in turn brings me to myself.
If God exists (we’ll get into my beliefs in another post) as we’ve been taught to think that he does then there must be a reason for me to be here. Today I know that I want to be a writer for the rest of my life. I’ve accomplished publishing a novel. I graduated from college long before that. I have yet to kill anyone. And I spend a large portion of my day helping others to see the wicked designs of the world so that they might live a more fruitful life than I have. Hell, that’s a life worth living if you ask me on a day when I’m feeling all warm and gooey inside. Other days I feel like who gives a damn about what’s next or what’s it all worth since it wont mean a damn thing when I’m dead. Even if I become as celebrated as Shakespeare, with my writing living through the ages, and people discussing what they believed I was actually like, I wouldn’t know right? I mean, a dead man can’t exist in the realm of the living. Does that soul really float around and watch its loved ones and protect them from time to time. I guess we’d like to think so.
No one knows what dying is like except the dead. Since the dead don’t talk, who can we ask. How can I know for sure that what I’m dreaming, doing, hoping for is what I’m here for. I know I’m not the only one who wishes they could just kick up, relax, and sleep through most of the days of the week. But we can’t. We’ve gotta get up when our backs hurt, get old, get sick, answer to that annoying person we call a boss and even when we become the boss there’s someone somewhere we still answer to. Doesn’t life sometimes feel like a revolving door of the same bullshit. And that question keeps being the question that never gets answered. What Is The Purpose of Life?
Right now, I don’t know and I don’t give a damn. Regardless of how unfathomable to the human mind it is, God doesn’t really have a beginning or an end, though the scripture of the Holy Bible (Revelations 22:13) says “I am the Alpha and Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End.” Thus, God just is and God will just be. So I’ll just be and become whatever it is I’ll be until the wind blows me some other way. For now I have things to do and adjust so that what I think I’m supposed to be doing can be realized. And maybe, just maybe, when I’m old and wrinkled or when I’m barreling into a speeding mack truck and my life is flashing before my eyes, I’ll get the answer and smile.