Story by Joe Pisani

It was Mark Twain, one of America’s greatest writers, who once said, “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.”

Not to quibble with a man of Twain’s stature, but I’d like to point out that Napoleon Bonaparte said the most important day of his life was when he received his First Holy Communion. Not his coronation as Emperor of France, or his military victories, or even his first marriage to Josephine, Viscountess of Beauharnais, not to mention his second marriage to Marie Louise, Duchess of Parma.

Napoleon famously proclaimed, “The most important day of my life was my First Holy Communion.” That’s a curious answer from a man of ambition and power, who almost ruled the world, who battled with the pope, and who ultimately left his faith.

In his biography of Napoleon, Hilaire Belloc wrote, His preparation for his First Communion he always remembered, and that day stood out for him all his life.”

But back to Mark Twain. The longtime resident of Hartford and later Redding was a vituperative critic of organized religion, who didn’t believe in heaven and hell, the Bible or even the divinity of Jesus.

However, he believed in God and went to church. I suspect that if he had been raised a Catholic instead of a strict Calvinist, things might have been different. He would have known “why he was born” because the religious sisters would have told him from the get-go, as they did for many of us, who had to memorize the Baltimore Catechism. The answer to Twain’s proposition comes right at the beginning of the catechism:

“Question 6: Why did God make you?

Answer: God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this world, and to be happy with Him forever in Heaven.”

That was simple. So simple most of us don’t grasp the enormousness of that eternal truth. And you don’t have to waste a lifetime trying to figure it out.

St. Teresa of Calcutta didn’t agonize over these questions. She knew the answer and often said: I am a little pencil in God’s hands. He does the thinking. He does the writing. He does everything, and sometimes it is really hard because it is a broken pencil and He has to sharpen it a little more.”

That suggests a life well-lived with true purpose, the only purpose actually. And it’s a life available to all of us. It’s living the life that God planned for us. Most of us shudder at that thought because we fear God will take away all the fun. Quite the contrary. He adds meaning to it and brings joy.

The older I get, the more I’m motivated by a simple realization: I have less time ahead of me than I have behind me. This revelation isn’t just for seniors by the way.

Young people would be wise to listen to their elders when they say it goes by fast, so fast you’ll eventually find yourself trying to catch your breath and wondering, “Where did it go?”

You’ll wake up one morning, and your hair will be gray. Don’t be upset. Gray hair is one of the best gifts God could give us because it’s a sort of memento mori: “remember you must die.” It’s a reminder that you’re mortal and you’re not going to last forever — at least down here — so you better get to work and start doing what you were created to do.

None of us wants to look back on life and wonder, “What did I do with it?” I’m not referring to the usual collection of regrets, such as “I never ran my own company” or “I never got the promotion” or “I never saw the Grand Canyon or Machu Picchu.” (They have books and YouTube videos for that sort of thing.)

At the top of our bucket list shouldn’t be visiting the Great Pyramids. It should be finding the purpose that God created us for … and start pursuing it every day.

If you’re looking for your purpose, or as Mark Twain said, wondering why you were born, examine the fine print of your life. Discern God’s will in the daily choices you have to make, in the people he puts in your path and by asking, “God, what do you want me to do?”

There’s no need for confusion. You’ll get an answer. All you have to do is ask. In fact, God is always waiting for us to ask.