Some things are hard to put into words. And yet they are often the things that matter most.
The moment a conversation shifted something in you and you couldn't explain why. The walk where something quietly settled. The decision you made that didn't make logical sense but turned out to be exactly right. That feeling - fleeting but real - of being held by something larger than your own effort.
Most of us have had moments like these. And most of us have learned to mention them carefully, if at all.
But I think these moments are some of the most important data we have about who we are and what we are here for.
There's More Going On Than We Can Measure
We live in a world that values what can be proven, optimized, and explained. And there's real good in that. But it also means we've become a little suspicious of the things that can only be felt. Like the quiet nudge, the unexpected synchronicity, or the sense of rightness that arrives before the reasons do.
Spirituality, in its broadest sense, is simply the practice of paying attention to that dimension of life that is (at least at first) beyond any scientific proof. It doesn't require a particular tradition or a tidy set of beliefs. It just requires a willingness to stay open to the possibility that meaning runs deeper than what's visible on the surface.
And when it comes to purpose - that is exactly where some of the most important information lives.
Silence Knows Things
We don't talk enough about silence. Not the uncomfortable silence of an awkward room, but the kind you have to choose - the early morning before everything starts, a walk without your phone, a few minutes of stillness before the day pulls you under.
Silence has a way of returning you to yourself. The noise of daily life - the demands, the notifications, the performing and producing - creates a kind of static that drowns out the quieter signals. Purpose among them.
I've noticed that the things I know most deeply, I rarely think my way into. They surface. In stillness. In the shower. On a walk. In that strange half-awake space before sleep. The mind gets quiet enough that something truer can come through.
This isn't mystical for the sake of it. It's just honest about how inner knowing actually works - for most people, most of the time.
Interconnectedness as a Clue
I am trying to be open about where I actually struggle with this one - and it might not be where you'd expect.
The spiritual dimension of life has never been hard for me. It's been present and natural for as long as I can remember - a kind of inner knowing, a felt sense of connection, a trust in something larger that I didn't have to argue my way into. It just... is. It has been my whole life.
What I wrestle with is how to talk about it in a world that wants the proof.
Which is a little awkward, given that I am a pastor. You would think I would have the language sorted out by now. But the reality is - even in church, even among people who believe in prayer and will tell you with complete sincerity that prayer changes things - there is still a quiet caution about really putting all your eggs in that basket. We believe it. We just also want a backup plan that's a little more... quantifiable.
And I get it. I'm not throwing stones. In a science-based, consumer-driven world that values data and measurable outcomes, saying "I just know" or "something in me felt called" can sound either naive or evasive - even to people of faith.
And yet. The inner knowing is real. The felt sense of connection is real. The moments of synchronicity that defy tidy explanation are real.
So I've made a kind of peace with this: I can't always give you the proof. But I can invite you to notice your own experience. Because most people, if they're honest, have had moments they can't fully explain - where something clicked, or opened, or arrived just when it needed to. Where they felt, however briefly, held by something larger than themselves.
That's not nothing. That's data too. Just a different kind.
And the dependence part - really depending on other people, letting them be part of how my life unfolds - that's the work. It is more than a concept. This is the actual practice. And even when you've lived it, even when you know it in your bones from experience, you find yourself having to re-orient. Again. And again. Finding ways (and people) on which you can depend.
Turns out it's not a lesson you learn once and file away. It's a direction you keep choosing. A practice you have to keep tending to - like brushing your teeth. Unglamorous, a little repetitive, and absolutely necessary.
What Feels Sacred to You?
This is a question worth taking seriously, even if the word "sacred" feels unfamiliar or loaded.
Sacred doesn't have to mean religious. It just means: the things you treat with a kind of reverence. The experiences that feel set apart from the ordinary. The moments where time slows down and something in you goes quiet and pays attention.
For some people it's nature. For others it's music, or deep conversation, or the act of creating something. For others it's service - the particular aliveness that comes from giving something of yourself to someone who needs it. For others still, it's prayer, or contemplation, or simply being present to what is.
What feels sacred to you is a window into your deepest values. And your deepest values are where purpose tends to live.
Three Questions to Sit With
These are slower questions. They don't want to be answered quickly.
What gives my life meaning? Not what I think should give it meaning. What actually does - the things that make the hard days bearable and the good days feel genuinely full?
When do I feel connected to something larger than myself? Where does that sense of belonging to something beyond just my own story show up? What are the conditions that allow it?
What feels sacred to me? What do I treat with reverence, even quietly, even privately? What experiences make me go still?
Two Practices for This Week
Ten Minutes of Silence. Just ten minutes, once this week, without a podcast or a scroll or a task. Sit, or walk slowly, or just be. You don't have to do anything with it. Notice what surfaces when the noise steps back.
A Meaning Inventory. At the end of the week, ask yourself: what moments this week felt genuinely meaningful - not productive, not impressive, but meaningful? Where did you feel most like yourself? Where did you feel connected? Just notice. You're building a picture of what your particular kind of meaning actually looks like.
(I am doing these too!)
You Don't Have to Have It All Worked Out
Spiritual purpose isn't a destination you arrive at. It's more like a direction you keep orienting toward - sometimes clearly, sometimes by feel, often through the very experiences you didn't choose.
What gives your life meaning is already present in your life. In what moves you. In where you feel most connected. In what you quietly hold as sacred.
You don't have to name it perfectly. You just have to stay curious about it.
And keep paying attention.
Next week: the final post in the series. We'll bring it all together - and talk about what it looks like to actually live from purpose, not just think about it.
EMBody Wisdom offers life coaching, grief coaching, spiritual direction, Healing Touch, workshops, and group experiences for people ready to come home to themselves. Learn more at www.embodywisdomca.com
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