Opening Scripture
“So Paul stood in the midst of the Areopagus and said, ‘Men of Athens, I observe that you are very religious in all respects. For while I was passing through and examining the objects of your worship, I also found an altar with this inscription, “TO AN UNKNOWN GOD.” Therefore what you worship in ignorance, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and all things in it, since He is Lord of heaven and earth, does not dwell in temples made with hands; nor is He served by human hands, as though He needed anything, since He Himself gives to all people life and breath and all things; and He made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined their appointed times and the boundaries of their habitation, that they would seek God, if perhaps they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him we live and move and exist, as even some of your own poets have said, ‘For we also are His children.’ Being then the children of God, we ought not to think that the Divine Nature is like gold or silver or stone, an image formed by the art and thought of man. Therefore having overlooked the times of ignorance, God is now declaring to men that all people everywhere should repent, because He has fixed a day in which He will judge the world in righteousness through a Man whom He has appointed, having furnished proof to all men by raising Him from the dead.’”
Acts 17:22–31, NASB95
A Reflection Of Purpose
H.G. Wells reached the age of sixty-one and said, “I have no peace. All life is at the end of the tether.” Byron wrote that the flowers and fruits of his life were gone, leaving only the worm, the canker, and the grief. Thoreau observed that most men live lives of quiet desperation. And Ralph Barton, one of the most celebrated cartoonists in the country, left a note pinned to his pillow before taking his own life: he had friends, success, wealth, and travel—and still he was fed up with inventing devices to fill twenty-four hours of the day.
These were not foolish men. They were brilliant, accomplished, and admired. Yet each one describes the same void—a hollowness that fame, friendship, and achievement could not fill. It is one of the great tragedies of human life when a person reaches the end of it still asking, “Why am I here?” Not because the question is wrong to ask, but because somewhere along the way, the answer was never taught—or it was pushed aside.
From childhood through retirement, we are all chasing answers. How much will the repair cost? How long until the baby walks? How can I know God is real? When no one can tell us, we search for ourselves. Beneath all our smaller questions sit two larger ones humanity has wrestled with for centuries: Where did I come from? Science attempts to answer that one. Why am I here? Philosophy wrestles with that one—and comes up empty.
Scripture answers both—and a third question neither science nor philosophy has ever dared to address: Where am I going? In Acts 17, Paul stood before the philosophers of Athens at an altar inscribed “TO AN UNKNOWN GOD” and declared the God they had never named. He told them plainly: God made all things, God made all men, and God controls all things. This was not a God they had built a home for—He had built a home for them.
Genesis 1:26 settles the first matter: “Let Us make man in Our image.” You were not an accident. God designed you, formed you from the dust, breathed life into you, and called what He made very good. Isaiah adds that you were created “for My glory” (43:7) and formed for God Himself, to declare His praise (43:21). Before you ever asked why you exist, God had already answered.
And the answer Paul gives in Athens is the same answer Scripture gives everywhere else: “that they would seek God” (Acts 17:27). Not seek position. Not seek possessions. Not seek pleasure. Seek Him. Deuteronomy 4:29, Matthew 7:7–8, and Hebrews 11:6 all echo the same invitation—search for God with your whole heart, and you will find Him, because He has never been far from you.
Here is what makes this more than a philosophical puzzle: God sought you first. Like a father scanning the horizon for a son still far off, He has already been looking for you. When a person finally seeks Him, life changes—not because the questions stop, but because they finally have an answer that holds. Understanding God means understanding who you are, what you are, and where you are going.
Jesus put it simply: “seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” (Matthew 6:33). That is the whole answer to “Why am I here?” Not to invent devices to fill twenty-four hours. Not to chase what fame and success couldn’t fill for men like Wells, Byron, Thoreau, and Barton. You are here to seek the God who made you on purpose—and who has been waiting for you to come home.
Is God still unknown to you? With Him, there is no void—only purpose. Seek Him with all you are: heart, soul, mind, and spirit.
