Who knows?

I believed life had a meaning, or put it in another way, that life had a purpose. If it was not wealth, then could it be fame?

In fact, fame to me was a better choice to be my purpose of life compared to money. I felt the desire to be looked up to, be praised, be admired. However, it was just clear to me that fame, like money, could not be the purpose of life. People changed easily. Today they could admire you, tomorrow they could think otherwise. Furthermore, why did I care about how others think about me? Was my own opinion to myself not as valuable as the others’ opinion on me? Chasing praises from people did not seem to be worthy of my whole life.

I thought the most noble purpose of life was this: We lived for the others. We devoted our lives to make other human lives better. I applause people whose purpose of life was to serve other people. Yet, I could not apply it to myself. The reason was this: What was the purpose of life of the people whom I serve? Was I to serve the people whose life serve no purpose? As noble as it was, it just seemed to be pointless after all.

What was the purpose of life? It did not seem to be an easy question to me. Who could tell me my purpose of life?

I knew, just a possibility, that if there was a Creator, the Creator must be the one I should ask. The sculptor knew what the sculpture was for. If I was created by Him, then He must be the one who knew exactly what my purpose of life was.