I spent some time with an executive coach yesterday. It was fun, challenging, and thought provoking. I realized as I left that I had avoided looking myself in the mirror and asking the obvious question. “Why am I here?”
The question is far more difficult than one might presume. I knew why I went the small village of Disley on the edge of the Peak District; my boss asked me to. Yet there was something more to my journey than fulfilling an obligation. I went seeking to get constructive advice from someone who has walked many of my steps. I hoped I would find someone genuinely interested in my story. I imagined if I found the advice I sought from someone I could trust that my heart would also find a level of peace that it had longed for sometime.
Yet, the story doesn’t end with the answers. I find that my “why” question has become a series of questions. It is as if I am five years old again and the questions echo and multiply faster than anyone could possibly answer. At the end of the string is the “why God” question.
It would be easy to give the answer of yesterday. I could but I wonder; does yesterday’s answer apply to the present moment? Am I any different from the people who wondered where Jesus had gone when he left the lake? “When they found him back across the sea, they said, ‘Rabbi, when did you get here?’ Jesus answered, ‘You've come looking for me not because you saw God in my actions but because I fed you, filled your stomachs—and for free.’” (John 6.25, 26)
I would hope not but my behavior often suggests otherwise. In the last two days I have had a great meal, full of peace, understanding, and compassion. It was a gift far greater than anything I expected. As I bask in the fullness of it all I find myself resolute in my intent of living out the God I know and love. The truth is the why.
