Happiness is not the meaning of life. I am convinced beyond every conviction. If it was, then doing the right thing wouldn’t come at such high costs.
If happiness was the goal, how many broken happinesses would trail behind us in our pursuit of our own happiness? If happiness was the reason for all things, then why does the human heart find it to be such a fleeting commodity? Why is something so temporary so precious to us, when things that sustain demand so little of our time or notice?
I’m so over being happy. Over striving for it. I want something deeper. More meaningful and sustaining than that. I want conviction and discernment. I want a steady hand and heart. I want a peaceful grace to a broken spirit. I don’t want a “fast-track” life. I want the beauty of a struggle.