The Lie About Purpose

Most men waste their lives searching for “purpose.”
As if it’s buried treasure. As if it’ll be handed to them.

It won’t.

Purpose is not found.
It’s built. Brick by brick—through daily, sacred work.

Not in your thoughts. Not in your journal.
In sweat. In service. In sacrifice.

A man who waits until he “feels inspired” to start the gym never builds a strong body.
An artist who waits for a lightning bolt of purpose never publishes.
A husband who waits until he “figures himself out” to love fully never shows up. The one who leans into discomfort builds a family.

Psychology confirms this: meaning isn’t discovered, it’s created.
Viktor Frankl wrote that purpose is born in responsibility, choosing what you’re willing to suffer for.
And behavioral science shows motivation follows action, not the other way around.

Pain doesn’t give you purpose. It clears the delusion.
What’s left is what you actually care about.

You don’t need a perfect calling. You don’t need clarity.
You need commitment.

Choose something that scares you.
Choose something that stretches you.
And give it everything.

Most men die with their sword still in the sheath.
Don’t.

Pick your fight. Swing.

That’s purpose.

If you’re here reading this, I’ll leave you with one question:
What are you willing to bleed for this week?