42 and the Meaning of Life…

There are certain things in this world that God has for you to do; and you’re just the right person to do them.

For years, I said those words to my children every night as I tucked them into bed.

There are certain things in this world that God has for you to do; and you’re just the right person to do them.

I still remind them of this from time to time.

Recently one of those children of mine introduced me to a quote from George Bernard Shaw that carries the same kind of thought, but expresses it with much greater eloquence:

This is the true joy of life, the being used up for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.

I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the community, and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live.

Life is no “brief candle” to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for a moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.

As much as I love that Scotsman, Douglas Adams, I must say that 42 is not the meaning of life. This Irishman, Shaw, got it right. Whatever flaws he may have had, he expresses great truth here when he tells us that laying aside petty grievances and pouring our lives out for a cause that has meaning beyond our years is reason for living.

Of course, that cause must be worthwhile. Jesus said his cause was the redemption of humankind. I have come to seek and to save that which was lost. Nice. That cause beats the tar out of any other I can imagine.

Now — more than ever — we need to resist the pull toward self-centered living and live for a meaningful purpose: the purpose of pouring out our lives for the sake of the gospel.

The Vulnerable God

The child born in the night among the beasts. The sweet breath and steaming dung of the beasts. And nothing is ever the same again.

Those who believe in God can never in a way be sure of him again. Once they have seen him in a stable, they can never be sure where he will appear or to what lengths he will go or to what ludicrous depths of self-humiliation he will descend in his wild pursuit of man. . . .

For those who believe in God, it means, this birth, that God himself is never safe from us, and maybe that is the dark side of Christmas, the terror of the silence. He comes in such a way that we can always turn him down, as we could crack the baby’s skull like an eggshell or nail him up when he gets too big for that.

~Frederick Buechner, The Hungering Dark, pp. 13-14.