What Is My Purpose?

Do you ever just pause mid-bite of your third grilled cheese, stare into the microwave light like it’s the burning bush, and ask:

“God… what is my purpose? Like… for real?”

Because same.

And usually the microwave doesn’t answer. Rude.

Here I am, trying to uncover divine purpose while reheating leftovers and wondering if the reason I’ve been ghosted by 87 recruiters is because I accidentally put “professional overthinker” on my resume instead of “project manager.”

I mean, seriously—shouldn’t I have figured this out by now? I’ve read the books. I’ve taken the quizzes. One told me I’m “The Advocate,” another said “The Visionary,” and one just straight-up said, “You need a nap.” (That one felt the most accurate.)

People say things like, “Just follow your passion!”

Sir, my passion is sitting in comfy sweatpants and giving emotional TED Talks to my coffee mug. How do I monetize that?

And then you pray. You really do. You light a candle. You open your journal. You whisper:

“God… what do You want me to do with my life?”

And He whispers back:

“Maybe… finish the laundry first.”

Okay, wow. That felt personal.

But it’s in those weird in-between moments — the waiting, the doubting, the “accidentally spent two hours watching raccoon videos instead of applying to jobs” phases — that I think purpose sneaks in.

Not with a trumpet. But with a nudge.

Like:

• Help that person.

• Forgive yourself already.

• Call your mom back.

• Tell the truth, even if your voice shakes.

• And yes, finish the laundry.

I used to think purpose had to be something loud. Bold. LinkedIn-worthy. Something that comes with a spotlight and at least one press release. But the older I get, the more I think purpose is the quiet stuff.

It’s being kind when you’re tired.

It’s choosing integrity when no one’s watching.

It’s laughing at your own pain, then offering someone else hope.

And if you’re jobless, dream-confused, and living off of caffeine and vague prophetic words from strangers online? You’re not lost. You’re marinating.

God doesn’t waste the weird seasons. He uses them to build the good stuff: grit, grace, humor, and an uncanny ability to turn breakdowns into blog posts.

So no, I still don’t fully know my “main purpose.”

But I’m pretty sure it has something to do with loving people, being honest, and occasionally making someone laugh so hard they snort coffee out their nose.

And if that’s not holy work, I don’t know what is.

Keep going. You’re not behind. You’re just becoming the version of you that’s going to need all of this later.

Also — finish the laundry. Seriously.