What’s My Purpose? A Biblical Answer You’ve Probably Never Heard

You ever wonder what you’re really here to do? Not just in a general sense, but deep down—what is your purpose? Why are you here, on this planet, in this moment, with this particular life? And does any of it actually matter?

I’ve wrestled with that question myself. And over the years of teaching, pastoring, and now talking to you through this channel, I’ve seen how many of us carry that question quietly, sometimes desperately. Especially if you’re like me and grew up in a version of Christianity that focused more on the afterlife than the present one. It was all about making sure you were going to heaven someday. But somewhere along the line, that framework left a gaping hole when it came to the life we’re actually living now.

So today I want to go back. Not to your childhood or your college years or whatever turning point you think started your purpose. I want to go way back. Back to the beginning of the story. Genesis one and two. Because I think those opening pages say something profound about what it means to be human, and even more, what it means to be you.

Genesis one paints this poetic vision of God creating the world. It is structured. It is orderly. God separates things, fills them, and then brings everything to its crescendo by creating humans in His image. But this wasn’t just some grand finale. It was the setup for everything that comes next. Humans, it says, were made in God’s image—male and female. Equal. No hierarchy. No superiority complex. Just dignity. Mutuality. Partnership. But it doesn’t stop there. Because being made in God’s image isn’t just a status. It is a calling. A vocation. There is a “so that” tied to it. Be fruitful. Multiply. Fill the earth. Bring life. Not just more humans, but beauty. Culture. Community. Meaning.

That’s the foundation. But then Genesis two shifts gears. And I don’t think it’s a flashback or a zoom-in on day six like some read it. It feels more like a sequel. A new chapter. God creates a garden, places a human in it, and says, “Care for it. Maintain it.” In other words, steward it. Shape it. Don’t just sit around and bask in the scenery. Get your hands in the dirt and participate in the work. And it’s here we start to see something vital. Purpose isn’t just about being. It is about doing. And it was never meant to be done alone.

That’s the thing. God looks at the human and says, “It’s not good for man to be alone.” Not because the man needs a romantic partner necessarily, but because humans need other humans to do the work we were made for. That’s the heart of vocation. It is collaborative. It is relational. We help each other become more human. We remind each other who we are. I’ve got friends—men and women—who have shaped my life in profound ways. Not just Jane, my wife, but people like Jenny, April, and Jen. These women have helped me live out my calling. They’ve helped me build gardens. And I don’t mean flowerbeds. I mean spaces where things grow. Where beauty and peace and healing can take root. That’s the work we’re all called to.

See, in Genesis one, God creates by separating and filling. He orders the chaos. That’s what creation is. Bringing structure where there was none, filling the emptiness with purpose. And then He makes us in His image and says, “Go do that.” Go do what I do. Create. Order. Build. And in Genesis two, we see Him plant a garden and invite humanity into it, not just as guests but as co-gardeners.

So when I say your purpose is to build gardens, I’m not speaking in code. I’m talking about the tangible, ordinary ways you bring order out of chaos in your world. Whether that’s in your relationships, your job, your neighborhood, your art, your parenting, your peacemaking. Every time you push back against the disorder and brokenness in this world and make something good and beautiful instead, you are living into your vocation. That’s what it means to bear the image of God.

Jesus did this perfectly. His whole life was a garden-planting mission. Wherever He went, He restored what was broken. He healed the sick, dignified the outcast, challenged systems of oppression, forgave sinners, calmed storms. He brought peace where there was none. Shalom. Wholeness. That’s not just something Jesus gave. It is something He showed. And then He turned to us and said, “Follow me.”

And when we do—when we forgive instead of retaliate, when we create instead of consume, when we listen instead of judge—we are joining in that work. We are pushing back the chaos. We are planting gardens.

So if you’ve ever asked, “What does God want me to do with my life?” I want you to hear this clearly. It is not about waiting for some perfect job or magical calling to land in your lap. It is not about obsessing over the right college major or the one thing you are meant to do. It is about being someone who brings life wherever they go. Someone who makes peace, not noise. Who creates space, not division. Who nurtures growth, not decay.

You don’t have to be in ministry to live out your vocation. You don’t have to be married, ordained, extroverted, or spiritually elite. You just have to be willing to join God in this work of creation. Every day. In small ways. Through honest conversations, faithful work, quiet care, and bold love.

Whatever your context—whether you’re a barista, a teacher, an engineer, a stay at home parent, or still figuring it out—your calling is the same. Plant gardens. Build places where life can thrive. Bring order out of chaos. Reflect the heart of the Creator.

And you don’t have to do it alone.

That’s the vision Genesis gives us. That’s what Jesus modeled. And that’s what I believe is still possible today.

So whatever you’re going through, wherever you’re at in life or faith, I want you to know this. The story is not over. God’s story is still good. And there’s still a part for you to play in it.

And if nobody’s told you this in a while—you’re not too far gone. You’re not too late. There is still purpose in you. And you were made for this.

Let’s go build something together.