Adewunmi kept the notebook in the glovebox of his car, under the vehicle papers and a torch that no longer worked. It was a hardback exercise book with a blue cover, the kind secondary school students buy at the start of term. On the first page, in the careful handwriting of a seventeen-year-old, he had written two words: My Assignment.
He had started it at a youth camp in Ogun State. On the last night, a visiting minister had walked along the rows of teenagers and stopped in front of him. “Young man,” he said, “God has a special assignment for your life. Do not miss it.” Adewunmi wept for an hour. He went home and bought the notebook.
Twenty-one years later, it was nearly full. There were words from prophets, quotations from books on destiny, notes from conferences with names like Arise to Your Mandate and Discover Your Divine Blueprint. There were lists: possible callings, possible cities, possible ministries. One page simply said, in capital letters, “WHAT IS IT, LORD?” Another recorded the date he paid twenty-five thousand naira for a one-on-one “destiny alignment session” with a man he never saw again.
Meanwhile, the rest of his life had been happening in the margins. He was a civil engineer with a firm that built drainage systems for state governments. He had been married for eleven years to a woman who laughed easily and told him the truth. He had two sons, an ageing mother in Abeokuta, a small house group that met on Wednesdays, and a junior colleague at work who had recently started asking him questions about God. None of these things appeared in the notebook. In his mind they were the waiting room. Somewhere beyond them, behind a door he had not yet found, was the thing he was really here for.
One Friday evening, sitting in Lagos traffic on the Third Mainland Bridge with the engine idling, he took the notebook out and turned the pages slowly. He was thirty-eight. He told me later that he felt, for the first time, something close to despair. “I have spent my whole adult life looking for my purpose,” he said, “and I think I may have missed it.”
PunchlineHe had not missed it. But he had been looking for it in the wrong place, and he had been asking the question the wrong way round.
The question behind the question
“Why am I here?” is one of the oldest human questions, and it is a good one. Scripture does not mock it. The psalmist asked, “What is man, that thou art mindful of him?” (Psalm 8:4). The Preacher in Ecclesiastes spent twelve chapters pressing on it until he reached his answer. The desire to know that your life means something is part of being made in the image of a purposeful God.
But the question can be bent out of shape. In many churches, purpose has become a kind of hidden treasure: a single, specific assignment, unique to you, which you must locate through the right prophecy, the right conference or the right revelation. Until you find it, you are told, you are only existing. Once you find it, you will finally be living.
That way of thinking leaves people anxious. It makes ordinary life feel provisional. It treats the people and responsibilities already in front of us as distractions from the real thing. And it puts enormous power into the hands of anyone who claims to know our “assignment” better than we do. Adewunmi’s twenty-five thousand naira was the smallest cost. The larger one was two decades of living as if his actual life were a delay.
The deeper problem is that the question usually begins with me. What is my purpose? What is my assignment? What am I supposed to do? Scripture turns it around. Before it tells you what you are for, it tells you what God is doing. Your purpose is not a separate project God has set up alongside His own. It is your share in His.
Paul says that God “hath saved us, and called us with an holy calling, not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace, which was given us in Christ Jesus before the world began” (2 Timothy 1:9). Look at whose purpose is in view. His own purpose. Your calling flows out of it. If you want to understand why you are here, you have to start there.
What God is doing in the world
The first chapter of Ephesians is one long sentence in the Greek, running from verse 3 to verse 14 without a full stop, as though Paul cannot stop praising God long enough to draw breath. He begins with what God has done for us in Christ: blessed us “with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places” (Ephesians 1:3), chosen us before the foundation of the world, adopted us as children, redeemed and forgiven us. Then he opens a window onto the whole of history:
Having made known unto us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure which he hath purposed in himself: That in the dispensation of the fulness of times he might gather together in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven, and which are on earth; even in him: In whom also we have obtained an inheritance, being predestinated according to the purpose of him who worketh all things after the counsel of his own will: That we should be to the praise of his glory, who first trusted in Christ.
“Having made known unto us the mystery of his will.” In Scripture, a mystery is not a puzzle you solve through clever technique. It is something God has kept hidden and then chosen to reveal. And what is the mystery? “That in the dispensation of the fulness of times he might gather together in one all things in Christ.” The phrase translated gather together in one carries the idea of summing everything up under one head. God’s purpose for the universe is to bring everything, in heaven and on earth, into harmony under the rule of His Son.
That is the great project, and everything in history is moving toward it. Paul says that God “worketh all things after the counsel of his own will.” Nothing is outside His reach. Nothing is wasted.
Then Paul brings it close: “In whom also we have obtained an inheritance... That we should be to the praise of his glory.” You are not a spectator of God’s purpose. You have been brought inside it. You have an inheritance in it. And the reason you exist, at the deepest level, is that your life might bring praise to the glory of God.
That sounds abstract until you notice how often Paul repeats it. God adopted us “To the praise of the glory of his grace” (Ephesians 1:6). Believers who first trusted in Christ exist “to the praise of his glory” (Ephesians 1:12). And the Holy Spirit, who seals every believer, is the guarantee of our inheritance “unto the praise of his glory” (Ephesians 1:14). Three times in one sentence. The purpose of your life is bound up with making God’s grace visible.
This is good news for Adewunmi and for you. Your purpose was settled before you were born. You did not have to discover, earn or purchase it. The question “Why am I here?” has an answer that applies to every believer equally, on the first day of faith as much as the last: you are here to share in what God is doing in Christ, and to live to the praise of His glory.
NuggetYour purpose is not a separate project God set up beside His own. You were brought inside His purpose in Christ before you ever asked what yours might be.
You were made to know Him
If that sounds too large to live on a Tuesday morning, Jesus brings it down to something personal. On the night before His crucifixion, He prayed for His disciples, and in that prayer He defined the life He came to give:
And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.
“This is life eternal, that they might know thee.” Eternal life is not only endless existence after death. It is a quality of life that begins now, and its centre is knowing God. Not knowing about Him, as a student might know about a historical figure, but knowing Him as a son knows a father and a friend knows a friend. The Hebrew idea of knowing, which stands behind this, is relational and personal. It involves trust, love, conversation and shared life.
This is the first purpose of every human being, and it comes before any task. Paul, who had more assignments than most of us will ever carry, summed up his own deepest longing like this: “That I may know him” (Philippians 3:10). After decades of apostolic labour, the desire that drove him was still relationship.
The order matters. Jesus chose the twelve “that they should be with him” before He sent them out to preach (Mark 3:14). Adewunmi had spent twenty years asking God what he should do. He had spent far less time simply enjoying the God who had already welcomed him. The notebook was full of questions about his assignment and nearly empty of conversation with his Father.
If you are searching for your purpose, start here. Before you ask, “What do You want me to do?”, ask, “Who are You, and how may I know You better?” That is not a delay on the way to purpose. It is the purpose. Everything else you do will grow out of it.
Saved by grace for good works
Paul moves in Ephesians 2 from the cosmic to the personal. He describes how we were dead in sins, and how God, “rich in mercy,” made us alive with Christ. Then he gives one of the clearest summaries of the gospel anywhere in Scripture: “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast” (Ephesians 2:8-9).
Notice what that rules out. You were not saved because you had a great destiny that made you worth saving. You were not chosen for your potential. Salvation was a gift, received through faith, and it leaves no room for boasting. Whatever purpose you have, it rests on grace from the very beginning.
And then the next sentence: “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them” (Ephesians 2:10).
The word workmanship translates a Greek word, poiēma, used for something made, a work of craftsmanship. You are God’s handiwork. He has shaped you in Christ, and He has done so with an intention: “unto good works.” Salvation is not by works, but it is for them. Grace does not leave us idle. It makes us useful.
But look carefully at the kind of works Paul has in mind. He says God “before ordained” them, prepared them in advance, so that we “should walk in them.” Walking is the most ordinary activity there is. You do it every day without thinking. Paul does not picture good works as a single heroic mission you must hunt down. He pictures them as a path, prepared by God, along which you walk one step at a time.
When Paul later fills out what those works look like, in chapters 4 to 6 of the same letter, the list is remarkably ordinary. Speak truthfully. Do not let anger fester. Work honestly with your hands so you can give to those in need. Speak words that build people up. Forgive. Be faithful in marriage. Raise your children without provoking them. Serve your employer with sincerity. Treat your workers fairly. These are the good works God prepared. They happen in kitchens, offices, markets and house groups. Adewunmi’s drainage projects, his marriage, his mother in Abeokuta and his curious colleague were not the waiting room. They were the road.
The good that all things serve
Romans 8 contains one of the most loved promises in the Bible, and also one of the most misunderstood:
And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brethren.
Many believers know verse 28 by heart. “All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.” It is a precious promise, and it has carried countless people through grief, loss and confusion. But it is often quoted without verse 29, and the result is that we fill in the word good with our own definition. Good comes to mean the job, the marriage, the promotion, the visa, the outcome we were hoping for.
Paul does not leave the word empty. Verse 29 tells us what the good is: “For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son.” The good that all things are working toward is that we become like Jesus. God’s purpose for His called people is Christlikeness. The joys and the sorrows, the open doors and the closed ones, the seasons of fruitfulness and the long months of waiting are all being worked together toward that end.
Notice too the phrase “the called according to his purpose.” In Romans, being called is not first about receiving a job description. It is about being summoned by God into salvation. The next verse makes that plain: “whom he called, them he also justified: and whom he justified, them he also glorified” (Romans 8:30). Every believer is among the called. You do not have to wait for a special word before you can claim this promise.
This changes the way we judge our lives. Adewunmi had measured his life by whether he had found his assignment. God was measuring it by whether he was becoming like His Son. And by that measure, the years Adewunmi thought were wasted were nothing of the kind. Every patient conversation with his wife, every honest report at work, every visit to his mother had been part of the shaping. The purpose was being fulfilled while he was looking for it elsewhere.
And notice the end of verse 29: “that he might be the firstborn among many brethren.” Christ is the eldest brother in a large family. God’s purpose is not to produce a few spiritual celebrities with extraordinary assignments, while everyone else watches. It is to bring many sons and daughters into the likeness of His Son. You share that purpose with every believer in your church, in your city and across the world.
The shape of the shared calling
If every believer shares the same deep purpose, what does it look like in daily life? Jesus answered that question when a lawyer tried to test Him:
Master, which is the great commandment in the law? Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.
“On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” Everything God asks of His people hangs on two hooks: love God with everything you are, and love your neighbour as yourself. That is the shape of a purposeful life. It is not vague. It is extraordinarily demanding. But it is the same for every believer.
The Preacher in Ecclesiastes, after exploring every avenue of human achievement, pleasure and wisdom, came to the same conclusion from another direction: “Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man” (Ecclesiastes 12:13). And Micah, centuries earlier, had put it in a sentence that every believer can carry in his pocket: “what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” (Micah 6:8).
These passages free us from the anxiety of the hidden assignment. You already know a great deal of God’s will for your life. Paul even tells us directly: “this is the will of God, even your sanctification” (1 Thessalonians 4:3), and “In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you” (1 Thessalonians 5:18). If you are loving God, loving the people around you, growing in holiness and giving thanks, you are living in the centre of God’s purpose, whether or not you can name a specific assignment.
Some people find this disappointing, because they wanted something more distinctive. But consider how much distinctiveness it already contains. Nobody else is called to love your wife or your husband. Nobody else is called to honour your particular parents. Nobody else carries your exact set of relationships, your neighbourhood, your colleagues, your gifts and your history. The shared calling is lived out in a life that is entirely yours.
Where your particular responsibilities unfold
PunchlineNone of this means God has nothing particular for you. He does. But Scripture places the particular inside the shared, not in place of it.
When Paul preached to the philosophers in Athens, he described God as the One who arranges the details of human lives:
God that made the world and all things therein, seeing that he is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands; Neither is worshipped with men’s hands, as though he needed any thing, seeing he giveth to all life, and breath, and all things; And hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation; That they should seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after him, and find him, though he be not far from every one of us.
God “hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation.” When you were born, where you live, the family you came from, the language you speak: none of these are accidents. And the reason God arranged them, Paul says, is “That they should seek the Lord.” Your particular circumstances are the setting in which you are meant to know Him and make Him known.
So your particular responsibilities begin with your particular placement. You are a believer in Lagos, or Kano, or Port Harcourt, or London. You are a nurse, a trader, a student, a retired teacher, a mother of three. You belong to a certain church, a certain extended family, a certain workplace. These are not obstacles between you and your purpose. They are the specific places where the general purpose takes particular form.
Within that placement, God gives gifts. Every believer has been given some ability for the good of others, and those gifts help shape the particular way you love God and serve your neighbour.
And sometimes God does speak a specific word. The Holy Spirit said to the church at Antioch, “Separate me Barnabas and Saul for the work whereunto I have called them” (Acts 13:2). Believers today may receive a clear sense of direction toward a field, a people or a ministry. That is a real experience, and we should not despise it. But notice two things about Antioch. First, Barnabas and Saul were already serving faithfully in the local church when the word came. They were not sitting at home waiting for an assignment. They were “ministering to the Lord” with others. Second, the word was recognised and confirmed by the church, not carried privately in a notebook.
Particular direction usually comes to people who are already walking in the shared purpose. It grows out of faithfulness in what is already in front of them. And when it comes, it does not lift them above the shared calling. Paul, with his unique apostleship, still had to love his neighbour, forgive his enemies, work with his hands and give thanks in everything.
Some guard-rails for the search
Because the search for purpose matters so much to people, it is easily exploited. A few cautions may help.
Be wary of anyone who charges for access to your destiny. God revealed the mystery of His will in the gospel, freely, to all who believe. Spiritual counsel has its place, and churches rightly support those who teach. But a ministry that sells you private revelations about your assignment is trading on your anxiety.
Be careful with personal prophecy. Scripture does not forbid it. Paul told the Thessalonians not to despise prophesyings, and in the same breath told them to “Prove all things; hold fast that which is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:21). A word that is from God will be consistent with Scripture, will usually confirm what God is already doing, and can be tested by mature believers who know you. A word that leaves you paralysed, ashamed of your ordinary life or dependent on the person who spoke it should be held loosely.
Do not wait for perfect clarity before you obey what you already know. Most of God’s will is already written down. Love, serve, work honestly, give, forgive and keep learning. Direction becomes clearer to people who are moving.
And if you are in a season where you can do very little, through illness, disability, age, unemployment or the heavy demands of caring for someone else, please hear this. Your purpose has not been suspended. You are still called to know God and to be conformed to the image of His Son, and both of those can happen in a hospital bed or a quiet room. The bedridden grandmother who prays for her grandchildren every morning is not outside God’s purpose. She may be closer to its centre than many busy people.
Jeremiah 29:11 is often quoted as a personal promise about destiny: “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you.” It is a wonderful verse. But it was first spoken to exiles in Babylon who were told they would be there for seventy years. And the same letter told them what to do in the meantime: “Build ye houses, and dwell in them; and plant gardens, and eat the fruit of them” (Jeremiah 29:5). Seek the peace of the city. Marry. Raise children. Pray. God’s good purpose for His people included the patient, ordinary life they were living while they waited. It still does.
Adewunmi did not throw the blue notebook away. He told me he could not bring himself to do it. But that Friday on the bridge, after the traffic began to move and he reached home, he sat at the dining table after his sons had gone to bed and turned to the last empty page.
At the top he wrote Ephesians 1. Underneath, he copied what Paul said God had already done: chosen, adopted, accepted, redeemed, forgiven, sealed, given an inheritance. Then he wrote one line that he had never written before in twenty-one years: I am here to the praise of His glory.
Below that, he started a new kind of list. Not possible callings, but names. His wife. His two sons. His mother in Abeokuta. The six people in his house group. The junior engineer who kept asking about God. The labourers on site who had not been paid on time for two months and who needed someone with authority to speak up for them. He looked at the page for a long time. “They were there the whole time,” he said. “I had been stepping over them on my way to look for my purpose.”
The following Monday, he raised the matter of the unpaid labourers with his managing director. It took three uncomfortable meetings, but the arrears were paid before the end of the month. The Wednesday after that, he invited his junior colleague to lunch and answered his questions properly for the first time. He began visiting his mother every second Saturday instead of every second month.
None of it felt like a grand assignment. But his wife said something to him a few months later that he wrote down. “You seem lighter,” she said. “You used to look as though you were always waiting for your real life to start.”
Perhaps you have your own blue notebook. Perhaps you have spent years looking for the one thing you are supposed to do, and the search has left you anxious and quietly ashamed of the life you actually have. Lay the search down for a moment. You were chosen in Christ before the foundation of the world. You were made to know Him. You were saved by grace and created for good works that He prepared in advance. Every circumstance of your life is being worked together to make you like His Son. That is why you are here. Now look around you. The road He prepared is already under your feet.
Teaching Companion
For Reflection
- Have you tended to think of purpose as a single hidden assignment you must discover? How has that affected the way you see your everyday life?
- Ephesians 1 says we exist “to the praise of his glory.” What would it look like for your life this week to make God’s grace visible?
- Jesus defined eternal life as knowing God. How much of your search for purpose has been a search for Him?
- Romans 8:29 defines the “good” as being conformed to the image of Christ. How does that change the way you read the difficult seasons of your life?
- Whose names would appear on your list of the people God has already placed around you?
This Week
Take a sheet of paper and write at the top: “I am here to the praise of His glory.” Underneath, write out what Ephesians 1:3-14 says God has already done for you in Christ. Then make a second list of the people and responsibilities God has already placed in your life: family, church, work, neighbourhood. Choose one name from that list and do one concrete act of love for that person this week, deliberately, as part of your purpose and not as a distraction from it.
A Prayer
Father, thank You that before I ever asked why I was here, You had already brought me into Your purpose in Christ. Thank You for choosing me, adopting me, forgiving me and sealing me with Your Spirit. Forgive me for the times I have treated my everyday life as a waiting room and stepped over the people You placed beside me. Teach me to know You, to love You with all my heart and to love my neighbour as myself. Work all things together to make me like Your Son. Where You have particular direction for me, make it clear in Your time, and keep me faithful in what I already know. Let my life be to the praise of Your glory. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Truth received brings freedom. Truth believed establishes the heart.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version. · Illustrations using first names only are composites unless stated otherwise.