What's the Point?

 

Have you ever found yourself asking that question? Maybe you used to wake up knowing what you were working toward. You had a role, a responsibility, a dream, a calling, or a place where you felt needed.

And then something changed. Sometimes the transition is something you chose. Sometimes it was chosen for you. And somewhere along the way, you realize: “I don't know what I'm doing anymore.”

You may feel confused. Numb. Disconnected. Sad. Grieving. Apathetic. Things that once brought fulfillment don't seem to matter in the same way.

You may even wonder: “What is my purpose now?”

Purpose is often connected to the roles we hold and the things we do. These roles can give our lives structure and meaning.

So when a role changes or disappears, we can experience more than the loss of an activity. We may experience a loss of identity, belonging, contribution, direction, and meaning.

We might wonder: Who am I if I'm not doing what I used to do?

And sometimes the deeper question underneath it is: Do I still matter?

But sometimes what feels like a loss of purpose is actually a loss of clarity about how our purpose will be lived out in this new season.

I think about Peter in John 21. Peter had followed Jesus. He had left his nets. He had witnessed Jesus' ministry. He had been one of His closest disciples. And yet, Peter had denied Jesus three times.

Imagine what that must have felt like. The person he had promised he would never deny was the very person he denied.

What happened next? In John 21, we find Peter back on a boat, fishing. There is something significant about that picture. Peter had spent years as a fisherman before Jesus called him. After everything that had happened, perhaps returning to what he knew felt familiar.

But I wonder if there was more going on beneath the surface.

Was Peter confused?

Was he grieving?

Was he disappointed in himself?

Was he wondering what his life meant now?

Had he begun to question whether he still had a place in Jesus' story?

We aren't told everything Peter was thinking, so we shouldn't assume his internal experience. But we do know that he had experienced profound failure and that Jesus met him right there.

Jesus didn't discard Peter. Jesus didn't say, “You failed, so your purpose is over.” Instead, Jesus restored their relationship and entrusted Peter with responsibility again.

“Feed my lambs.”

“Take care of my sheep.”

“Feed my sheep.”

Peter's failure had not erased his purpose. His path forward would look different because of what had happened, but he was still being invited to follow Jesus.

There are times in transition when we believe our purpose has disappeared because something about our life has changed.

Sometimes that change comes through circumstances.

Sometimes it comes through our own choices.

Sometimes it comes through failure.

And now you wonder:

“Can I still be used?”

“Do I still have something meaningful to contribute?”

“Does my life still matter?”

Peter's story reminds us that our failures don't have the final word about our purpose. Jesus met Peter on the shore. Not after Peter had proven himself again. Not after Peter had earned his way back. Jesus met him in the middle of his questions, disappointment, and failure. And Jesus invited him forward.

There is another important distinction here. Purpose doesn't always mean doing the exact same thing forever. The expression of our purpose can change from season to season.

Peter's life after the resurrection wasn't simply a return to the way things were before Jesus called him.

His role developed.

His responsibilities changed.

His understanding deepened.

But the invitation remained: Follow me.

This is important when we're navigating life transitions.

The expression of your purpose may need to change. But that doesn't mean your life has become purposeless.

Sometimes the loss of purpose doesn't feel dramatic. It feels like numbness.

You go through the motions.

You do what needs to be done.

But there isn't much joy.

There isn't much anticipation.

There isn't much sense of fulfillment.

You might think:

“I don't really care anymore.”

“Why bother?”

“What's the point?”

This can be especially difficult when you remember how passionate you once were.

But rather than immediately trying to fix the feeling, perhaps you can become curious about it.

What have you lost?

What are you grieving?

What has changed?

What part of your identity was connected to what you used to do?

What expectations did you have for this season that haven't happened?

And underneath all of those questions: What still matters to you?

Peter didn't have to become perfect before Jesus restored him. And neither do we.

There is a difference between purpose and worth.

Your purpose is not what makes you valuable.

Your productivity is not what makes you valuable.

Your position is not what makes you valuable.

Your ability to accomplish things is not what makes you valuable.

You have worth simply because you are a person created and loved by God. That truth becomes especially important when our roles change. Because when the role disappears, we can mistakenly believe that our value disappeared with it.

It didn't. You are still you. And perhaps the transition is giving you an opportunity to discover that your identity is deeper than the role you once occupied.

When we're feeling lost, we often want a big answer.

What am I supposed to do with my life?

But perhaps a better place to begin is with a smaller question:

“What is God inviting me to be faithful to today?”

Peter didn't receive every detail of his future on that beach. He received an invitation to follow. Sometimes that's enough for today.

But perhaps you can ask:

What is mine to do today?

Who can I love today?

What needs my attention today?

Where can I be faithful today?

Purpose doesn't always arrive as a five-year plan. Sometimes it looks like the next faithful step.

Maybe you're standing in your own version of that shoreline. Something has happened, and you're not sure what comes next. Maybe you feel like Peter—confused, disappointed, grieving, or wondering whether there is still a place for you.

Remember this:

Failure did not erase Peter's purpose.

And a transition doesn't automatically mean that your purpose is gone. Sometimes what has changed is not your purpose but the way your purpose will be expressed.

Perhaps, like Peter, you can simply listen for the invitation to follow.

One step.

One day.

One season at a time.

Maybe you don't need to discover your entire purpose today.

Maybe you need to remember that your purpose hasn't necessarily disappeared just because your circumstances have changed.

Peter's story reminds us that failure didn't disqualify him. The shoreline wasn't the end of his story. It became a place of restoration and a new expression of what he was called to do.

And perhaps your transition can become that kind of place too—not because everything suddenly makes sense, but because you begin to discover that your story is not over.

There is still an invitation to follow.

There is still room to grow.

There is still something meaningful ahead.

And your worth was never dependent on your ability to get it all right.