If you’ve yet to find your purpose, maybe it’s not that you don’t have one. Rather, maybe it’s that you haven’t given it permission to find you. And you might ask, is there any legitimate purpose in that?

Looking back, I now realize that I left home in search of all the things that were right in the very place I left.

There are many paths to take, but there is only one journey to which we are called.

Too often my ‘target’ is whatever happens to have wandered in front of me instead of being something that I have intentionally put myself in front of.

To maximize our lives we think that we should get up and join in the race. Yet, we rarely consider that maybe it’s less about joining a race and more about actually creating one.

It is the geese plying the graying skies of autumn in floating V-formations on a rendezvous with southern horizons that gives me the greatest pause. For my life is rarely raised to the calls of life on the wing that beg me to rise up and lay hold of distant horizons in search of a season being birthed out of the one now dying. For to stay here in a season now expired is to die along with it, and despite the fact that I had died many times, I must never forget that I can still fly.

I think I would prefer to walk the road that didn’t exist until I walked it.

If life is nothing more than a journey to death, autumn makes sense but spring does not.

If I have found my journey to be a maddening tangle of wandering ‘rabbit-trails,’ a labyrinth of incessantly circular passages to nowhere and back, and a plethora of assorted ‘dead-ends’ fraudulently disguised as paths of great promise, it can only be because I have mindlessly exchanged God’s compass for mine. Therefore, it would appear that another exchange might be in order.