What is the true purpose of life? Is life devoid of any meaning?

What is the true purpose of life? Is life devoid of any meaning? If life is devoid of meaning, what then do the words, meaning, purpose, and significance apply to the desire to know where we come from, why we are here, and where we go when we die, and if they do, what is the implication of the statement spoken by Jesus of Nazareth mean, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me?” What does Jesus mean by this statement, and who is the Father? 

Speaking honestly to philosophical atheists, I have to start where the questions actually live: Is there such a thing as true purpose? Is life objectively meaningful—or do we just assign meaning for psychological survival? And if life is ultimately purposeless, then the words meaning, purpose, and significance become nothing more than temporary labels we paste onto existence to help us cope with the silence of the universe. From a biblical worldview, I don’t believe life is devoid of meaning, but I also don’t believe we can manufacture meaning that endures. Meaning is not something we invent; it’s something we receive. It is anchored in the One who made us, the One in whom we exist, and the One to whom we will give account. That is why the Scriptures are willing to say, without embarrassment, that the question of purpose isn’t ultimately solved by human autonomy, but by God’s authority and God’s design.

 

Life Is Not Meaningless—Because We Are Not Accidental

 

The Bible insists that our existence is not random. Human beings are not cosmic leftovers. We were created intentionally, and that alone changes the entire philosophical landscape. We are made in God’s image (Genesis 1:26–28), and that means our lives have intrinsic dignity and moral significance that cannot be reduced to mere biology or social utility. And more personally, Scripture presses the point further: God’s involvement is not only cosmic; it’s intimate. “You formed my inward parts… Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed… the days fashioned for me” (Psalm 139:13–16). If that’s true, then life is not an accident, and neither are we. And if God is Creator, then purpose is not a human invention; it is something embedded into what we are. Scripture even says that God created people “for My glory” (Isaiah 43:7), and again, “This people I have formed for Myself; they shall declare My praise” (Isaiah 43:21). That is not merely religious poetry; it’s a claim about reality: we exist by God’s will and for God’s reasons. “You are worthy… for You created all things, and by Your will they exist and were created” (Revelation 4:11). And the implication is unavoidable: “Of Him and through Him and to Him are all things”(Romans 11:36). Purpose flows from origin. If our origin is God, our purpose cannot be merely self-referential.

 

The Existential Questions Are Real—And Scripture Admits It

 

Even in Ecclesiastes, the book that sounds like it could be written by a cynical modern philosopher, God acknowledges that human beings feel the weight of eternity pressing into our questions. Ecclesiastes repeatedly exposes the emptiness of a life lived “under the sun” as if this world is all there is. It is precisely because we are not made for a closed system that we ache for something more. That’s why Scripture can affirm ordinary joys without pretending they are ultimate. It says plainly that enjoying the fruits of our labor is a gift: “Every man should eat and drink and enjoy the good of all his labor—it is the gift of God” (Ecclesiastes 3:12–13). “Nothing is better… than that his soul should enjoy good in his labor… this also… was from the hand of God” (Ecclesiastes 2:24–25). And yet it also refuses to make pleasure the center, because pleasure cannot bear the weight of ultimate meaning. That’s why Ecclesiastes ends with a conclusion that feels like a final philosophical verdict: “Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is man’s all. For God will bring every work into judgment… whether good or evil”(Ecclesiastes 12:13–14). In other words: meaning is real, morality is real, accountability is real. That statement confronts atheism at the exact point where it often struggles: if the universe is ultimately indifferent, then moral obligation is either an illusion or a preference. But Ecclesiastes says, no, there is a Judge, and therefore life carries moral weight.

 

The Purpose Of Life, Biblically, Is Relational And Moral—Not Merely Functional

 

From the Christian worldview, true purpose is not “find what makes you happy” or “become your best self.” Purpose is a God-centered life shaped by love, obedience, and worship, lived in relationship with the Creator and expressed in how we treat people. Jesus summarized the entire moral aim of human life like this: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind… and… you shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:37–40; see also Mark 12:29–31 and Luke 10:27). That means purpose has two inseparable dimensions: 

 

• Vertical: love and devotion to God 
• Horizontal: love and responsibility toward others 

 

And that ethical vision is not vague. Micah puts it in concrete terms: “To do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). Deuteronomy echoes the same: “What does the Lord your God require of you, but to fear the Lord… to love Him… and to keep the commandments… for your good?” (Deuteronomy 10:12–13; see also Joshua 22:5). That is purpose as moral reality, not sentimental spirituality. And here’s the part atheists often find surprising: Scripture refuses to divide life into “sacred” and “secular.” It says purpose touches everything. “Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31). And, “Whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord… for you serve the Lord Christ” (Colossians 3:23–24). Purpose is not reserved for religious moments; it’s meant to saturate ordinary days.

 

But Jesus’ Claim Changes Everything: Meaning And Destiny Are Inseparable

 

Now we come to the statement, the one that either sounds like arrogant exclusivism or like clarity that finally ends the confusion: “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me” (John 14:6). Jesus is not merely offering a philosophy of meaning. He is making a claim about ultimate reality and ultimate access. He is saying: The road to God is not an ideology. The road to God is Me. That forces the question: Who is the Father? In John’s Gospel, the Father is the living God, the Creator, known truly, not by speculation, but by revelation. Jesus defines eternal life in explicitly relational terms: “This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent” (John 17:3). Eternal life is not only duration; it is relationship, knowledge of God through Christ. And if atheists ask, “Why should we trust Jesus’ claim?” Christianity answers by pointing to what Jesus did, not merely what He said. The gospel isn’t “try harder” or “be better.” It is that God acted in history to redeem. Jesus came to give life—real life: “I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly” (John 10:10). He is not presenting a self-help ethic; He is offering reconciliation with God.

 

Purpose Is Not Self-Authored—Because Our Hearts Are Not Reliable Gods

 

This is where Christianity critiques the modern project of self-definition. It’s not that Christians hate happiness or personal fulfillment. It’s that Scripture insists the human heart is not a trustworthy ultimate authority. That is why the Bible warns us against living as if our desires are self-validating, and not to allow our conscience to be our guide. It’s also why the Christian claim about meaning doesn’t begin with “look within,” but “look to God.” That’s why Scripture repeatedly says God’s counsel stands above human plans: “There are many plans in a man’s heart, nevertheless the Lord’s counsel, that will stand” (Proverbs 19:21). And Jesus’ call reorients the center: “Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness” (Matthew 6:33). If we reverse that, we don’t just lose moral clarity, we lose ourselves. And yet, the Bible does not teach a bleak view of life. In fact, it promises fullness of joy in God’s presence: “In Your presence is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore” (Psalm 16:11). It also says God is not merely the destination; He becomes the strength that holds us when we fail: “My flesh and my heart fail; but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:25–26).

 

Meaning Is Also Accountability: Life Is Headed Somewhere

 

Philosophical atheism often treats death as the boundary that erases ultimate significance: we live, we die, and the universe forgets. Scripture disagrees. It says our lives are morally evaluated and ultimately answered. Ecclesiastes ends with judgment (Ecclesiastes 12:13–14). That doesn’t exist to terrorize us; it exists to tell the truth: our choices matter eternally. This is also why Jesus’ words are not just inspirational but urgent. A life aimed at “gaining the whole world” can still be a catastrophic loss: “What profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul?” (Matthew 16:24–26). That question slices through every attempt to ground meaning in achievement alone.

 

The Christian Claim: Purpose Is God’s Glory, Expressed Through Love, And Fulfilled In Christ

 

So if I were responding to atheists, I would say it this way, with as much clarity as I can:

1. We exist because God willed us into being (Revelation 4:11; Romans 11:36).
2. We were created in God’s image and for God’s glory (Genesis 1:26–28; Isaiah 43:7).
3. The moral center of life is to love God and love people (Matthew 22:37–40; Mark 12:29–31; Micah 6:8).
4. The daily shape of purpose is worshipful stewardship of ordinary life (1 Corinthians 10:31; Colossians 3:23–24; Romans 12:1–2).
5. The ultimate fulfillment of purpose is knowing God through Jesus Christ (John 17:3), because Jesus is the way to the Father (John 14:6).
6. Life is not meaningless because it is accountable—God will bring our works into judgment (Ecclesiastes 12:13–14).

 

And that’s why Christianity doesn’t treat meaning as a mood, a social construct, or a personal narrative we tell ourselves. Meaning is grounded in the reality of God and culminates in a relationship with Him. The ultimate “direction” isn’t merely ethical instruction, though ethics matter. The “direction” is Christ Himself, because purpose is not only about how to live but about who we belong to. 

I’ll end this where Scripture ends its own philosophy of life: if we want the conclusion of the matter, here it is: “Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is man’s all” (Ecclesiastes 12:13). And if we want the heart of those commandments, Jesus tells us: love God fully and love our neighbor truly (Matthew 22:37–40). And if we want the doorway into eternal life, Jesus defines it: to know the Father, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom He has sent (John 17:3). 

Which Religion Has The Directions To Heaven?

“Which religion has the directions to Heaven?” Allow me to answer you the way I would in a conversation, honestly, plainly, and hopefully with a heart of compassion. From my born-again Christian perspective, the “directions” to Heaven are not ultimately found in a religion as a system. They’re found in a Person. Jesus didn’t say, “I will showyou a way,” or “I will teach you a path.” He said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me” (John 14:6). So when we talk about Heaven, about being reconciled to God, we’re not mainly talking about adopting the right set of rituals or joining the right institution. We’re talking about coming to the Father through Jesus Christ Himself. 

That exclusivity can sound harsh at first, but it’s actually meant to be clarifying. Scripture repeats it without embarrassment: “Nor is there salvation in any other, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). And it tells us why we need saving in the first place: “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23), and “the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 6:23). That’s the starting point for all of us, me included. We don’t begin as “good people trying harder.” We begin as sinners who need mercy. 

So what are the “directions,” practically? The New Testament puts it in relational terms: receiving Christ, trusting Christ, calling on Christ. “But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name” (John 1:12). “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life” (John 3:16). And the response God asks of us is not self-salvation through effort, but faith that turns into confession: “If you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved” (Romans 10:9–10). The jailer in Acts asked the same anxious question many of us ask when we finally realize what’s at stake, “What must I do to be saved?” and the answer was simple and direct: “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved” (Acts 16:30–31). That same simplicity shows up again: “Whoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved” (Romans 10:13). 

This is where born-again Christians often draw a line between religion and relationship. Not because we’re anti-church or anti-doctrine, but because we’ve learned sometimes the hard way that we can do “religious” things and still be far from God in our hearts. 

Religion, in the negative sense, is what happens when we treat God like a ladder: rules, rituals, moral performance, and spiritual hustle trying to climb our way into acceptance. It’s a system where I’m always wondering, Have I done enough? Am I clean enough? Did I perform well enough to be loved? But Scripture shuts that door firmly: “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast” (Ephesians 2:8–9). And again, “knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the law but by faith in Jesus Christ” (Galatians 2:16). “Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to His mercy He saved us, through the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit” (Titus 3:5). If salvation could be earned, the cross would be unnecessary. But “Christ also suffered once for sins, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God” (1 Peter 3:18). He did what we could not do. 

Relationship, in the born-again sense, is what happens when we stop negotiating with God and start surrendering to Christ. It’s not “I’ll try harder so God will accept me,” but “Jesus, I need You, save me, forgive me, make me new.” Jesus told Nicodemus that we don’t enter the kingdom through mere religious refinement: “Unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God” (John 3:3), and “unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God” (John 3:5). That new birth is not external polish; it’s internal transformation. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new” (2 Corinthians 5:17). And this relationship is real enough that Scripture describes it as knowing God, not just knowing about Him: “And this is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent” (John 17:3). 

To me, that’s one of the most loving parts of the gospel: God doesn’t just offer a destination; He offers Himself. Jesus says, “I am the door. If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved” (John 10:9). He also says, “Most assuredly, I say to you, he who hears My word and believes in Him who sent Me has everlasting life… and has passed from death into life” (John 5:24). This isn’t guesswork or vague spirituality. It’s trust in Christ. “He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life” (1 John 5:11–12). “He who believes in the Son has everlasting life; and he who does not believe the Son shall not see life” (John 3:36). That’s why the New Testament keeps bringing us back to Jesus, because “there is one God and one Mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus” (1 Timothy 2:5), and “He is also able to save (from the guttermost) to the uttermost those who come to God through Him” (Hebrews 7:25). 

So if we boil it down: in the born-again Christian view, the “directions to Heaven” are not primarily a map of religious achievement. They are an invitation to come to Christ by faith, to be reconciled to God through Him, forgiven by grace, and made new by the Spirit. And if you want a one-sentence “direction” straight from Scripture, it’s this: believe on the Lord Jesus Christ (Acts 16:31), because Jesus Himself is the Way (John 14:6). 

What Kind Of Support Systems Or Resources Actually Help Parents Who Feel Overwhelmed By The Demands Of Parenting?

When parenting feels overwhelming, one of the most important things to know is this, without shame or pretending we’re fine: God never designed parenting to be carried alone. If we try to do it all ourselves, we don’t just get tired; we get worn down in our souls, in our hearts and minds, and we lose our peace. That’s exactly what Moses’ father-in-law saw. He looked at Moses trying to carry everyone’s burdens by himself and said, “The thing that you do is not good… you will surely wear yourselves out… this thing is too much for you; you are not able to perform it by yourself” (Exodus 18:17–18). Then he gave him wise counsel, based on his years of experience, that still applies to overwhelmed parents today: bring the heavy matters to God, and also share the load with capable, trustworthy people so “they will bear the burden with you” (Exodus 18:19–23). In other words, delegation isn’t laziness, it’s wisdom. It’s humility. It’s admitting that I am finite and that I need help.

So one of the most practical support systems is shared responsibility. For us, that can mean trusted family members, grandparents, a close friend, a babysitting swap with another parent, carpool help, meal trains, or someone who can step in for an afternoon so we can breathe. Even in the early church, believers lived with a mindset of shared needs and shared care: “all who believed were together… and divided them among all, as anyone had need” (Acts 2:44–45), and again, “they distributed to each as anyone had need” (Acts 4:34–35). The point isn’t communism; it’s community. It’s people saying, Your burden matters to me.

And that leads to the second support system: real community, not just being around people. Scripture is honest: isolation multiplies strain. “Two are better than one… for if they fall, one will lift up his companion… a threefold cord is not quickly broken” (Ecclesiastes 4:9–12). Parenting can make us feel like we’re failing in private, but we’re not. We’re not the only ones who cry in the bathroom, in the car, in the grocery store, lose patience, or feel like we’re doing a poor job. We need people who can be close enough to notice and kind enough to help.

That’s why the New Testament keeps calling us into mutual strengthening: “Therefore comfort each other and edify one another” (1 Thessalonians 5:11), and “let us consider one another in order to stir up love and good works, not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together… but exhorting one another” (Hebrews 10:24–25). When I have counseled parents, I often say, “We don’t just need a break, we need belonging.” We need “iron” around us, because “as iron sharpens iron, so a man sharpens the countenance of his friend” (Proverbs 27:17). A healthy church family, a home group, or a circle of parents who pray together can be a lifeline. And this does not end as our children grow and leave the nest. If anything, we adults need to continue that fellowship with our community as we age because we need to continue life together, not just with our spouse, but with our friends in our community.

The third support system is wise counsel and mentoring, because parenting decisions can feel like a minefield. God’s Word is blunt: “Where there is no counsel, the people fall; but in the multitude of counselors there is safety” (Proverbs 11:14). “Without counsel, plans go awry, but in the multitude of counselors they are established” (Proverbs 15:22). Who among us cannot say as I have, that I’ve had to learn that my first instinct isn’t always the best instinct, “he who heeds counsel is wise” (Proverbs 12:15). Scripture even tells us plainly, “Listen to counsel and receive instruction, that you may be wise in your latter days” (Proverbs 19:20), and “Plans are established by counsel” (Proverbs 20:18).

Sometimes that counsel is pastoral. Sometimes it’s an older couple who has walked through the very season we’re in. Sometimes it’s a therapist, a pediatrician, or a Christian counselor who can help us sort what’s normal stress from what’s becoming burnout, anxiety, depression, or trauma. Titus describes a beautiful pattern of older women teaching and strengthening younger women, helping them learn how to love their families well (Titus 2:3–5). That kind of mentoring is not control; it’s care. And let me add something that parents often overlook: prayerful support paired with honest confession. Not performative, not fake, honest. “Confess your trespasses to one another, and pray for one another, that you may be healed” (James 5:16). Some of us don’t need another parenting podcast; we need a safe person who can hear us say, I’m not okay, and then pray with us without judging us.

A fourth support system is practical help and “rest”, because our bodies and minds were not built to run nonstop. Even Jesus told His disciples, “Come aside by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while” (Mark 6:31–32). And when Martha was overwhelmed and distracted, Jesus didn’t shame her; He lovingly redirected her: “Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things. But one thing is needed” (Luke 10:41–42). Sometimes we don’t need to try harder; we need to simplify, prioritize, and rest in what actually matters.

And finally, the most sustaining support system is the Church functioning like the body it truly is. We are not meant to be independent units. “If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it” (1 Corinthians 12:26), because we belong to one another. God gives different gifts to build up and support the whole (Romans 12:4–8), and He gives shepherds and teachers “for the equipping of the saints for the work of ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ” (Ephesians 4:11–16). When the church is healthy, overwhelmed parents are not invisible; they are embraced.

So, what actually helps parents who feel overwhelmed?

• Shared load (delegation and practical help) because it’s “too much… to perform… by yourself” (Exodus 18:17–23).

• Community and belonging because “two are better than one” (Ecclesiastes 4:9–12) and we’re commanded to “bear one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6:2).

• Wise counsel and mentoring because “in the multitude of counselors there is safety” (Proverbs 11:14; 15:22).

• Prayer, confession, and encouragement because God heals and strengthens us through one another (James 5:16; 1 Thessalonians 5:11).

• Rest and spiritual recalibration because even faithful people need to “rest a while” (Mark 6:31–32).

If we’re overwhelmed right now, we need to remember this: needing help does not mean we’re failing. It means we’re human. And sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is let someone else hold up our arms for a season, as Aaron and Hur did for Moses when his hands grew heavy (Exodus 17:12). That kind of support is not weakness. It’s how God keeps us steady.