It's that creepy-crawly feeling of being foolishly stagnant in the midst of blessings. It's forgetting to be thankful. It's failing to live life close to the ground, while the soothing balms of the silver-lined crinkling pages of your NIV black-leather Bible is just a prop on the nightstand.Another item to carry with you in the stage production.
You can't leave it behind while you wait in the wings, but you don't necessarily have to read it either.
It's almost like writer's block.
Sometimes in writer's block, creative block, whatever "block" you're facing, it's best to let your projects rest. And sometimes it's well to let your mind catch up with where your heart has gone for a while.
So, what you do is you put your manuscript in a drawer. You put your colored pencils down, or clean out the dripping veils of colors from your paintbrushes. And of course for the athletic-types, I'm sure it could look something like lacking motivation to run your ten-mile spurt in preparation for the upcoming marathon.
I wouldn't really know what that would be like to actually want to run more than thirty minutes on a treadmill. But, I've heard that some people like those sorts of things. (You go, girls).
But, I do know what it's like to wake up and have to convince yourself to keep going, keep going, keep going. And sometimes it's hard to wake up and do these little life-chore marathons.
Because what if we do it badly?
What if people are talking about us behind our backs?
What if we make ourselves bleed on the page and no one pays attention?
It's a scary, gambly sort of way to live.
But, purpose block is so much worse. If we're being honest, it seems like something bigger than what one can simply keep her chin up through. The storm seems too big to weather.
It happens to us when our daily routine becomes a merry-go-round of prediction. Grinding awake at 6 a.m., creaking open the dishwasher door and pulling out your chipped Wizard of Oz mug, drumming your fingers on the kitchen counter, impatient for your coffee to finish brewing. When you stir in those two tiny packets of Splenda, while you hang your head and close your eyes over your steaming cup.
Praying, asking for strength to get through the day.
Asking in the middle of the whirlwind of hard work, of school, of volunteering, of praying and planning and preparing.
What is the point of all of this again?
And each day you're granted enough. Just enough. The minimum wage–strength to live on paycheck-to-paycheck. There is no surplus or fund for a rainy-strength day.
Before you know it, you can get purpose block. Living life in a haze of duties, responsibilities. Forgetting that you were born with a mighty plan that you were created specifically for.
I don't think this problem solely belongs in the realm of first world problems. I think it's a this world problem.
I think that our purpose has the keen ability to be kept hidden from us. I think it's like the parable of the pearl in the field. And once we find it, we should absolutely buy the field.
We should invest in communities that allow us to break our purpose block. We should buy into relationships that encourage us to keep going, keep going, keep going on the trek to discover purpose.
To run, lace up your shoes and head out the door. Even when every part of you wishes to be in bed. To write, sit in a chair and clack on the keys. Even when the words seem slapped together.
To find purpose? Pray, hope and heal a little bit.
Remember what powerful Father made you. And remind yourself of your special gifts and quirks in the midst of your busy and your messy.
Buy the pearl of your purpose in the field.