Lectio Divina — Wednesday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time
Day 2 of the Season of Creation
purpose
1. Lectio — Reading
> “…because for this purpose I have been sent.”
— Luke 4:43
Jesus refuses to remain where people want to keep him. After healing the sick and casting out demons in Capernaum, the crowds seek him and try to prevent him from leaving. Remaining there would certainly have been useful. There was more good work to be done.
Yet Jesus knows the difference between being useful and having a purpose.
“I must proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of God to the other towns also,” he says, “because for this purpose I have been sent.”
That distinction challenges me. I can fill my days with activity and still lose sight of why I am doing any of it. Technology makes this particularly easy. There is always another message to read, another post to make, another problem to research, another device to monitor, another statistic to measure. I can become increasingly efficient at doing things without asking whether those things serve the purpose for which God has placed me here.
Jesus knows where he is going because he knows why he has been sent.
Do I?
Perhaps today’s question is:
Am I allowing what I can do, what others expect me to do, or what technology enables me to do determine my life—or am I still listening for the purpose for which God has sent me?
[Luke 4:38–44 — USCCB](https://bible.usccb.org/bible/luke/4?38=&utm_source=chatgpt.com)
2. Meditatio — Meditation
Almost five years ago, I obtained my first livestock guardian dog and named him Perezvon.
The name came from The Brothers Karamazov, which I was reading at the time. Perezvon is the dog belonging to the boy Kolya Krasotkin. But my Perezvon was given a very practical purpose: guard my chickens from foxes and owls.
And he did.
Then something interesting happened. I obtained sheep partly because Perezvon seemed to need a greater purpose. The flock grew. I found him a mate. Puppies arrived. Eventually those younger dogs took over much of the livestock guarding.
Perezvon was still here—but his purpose had become less obvious.
And he began wandering.
Now circumstances have changed again. Most of those younger dogs have been rehomed, leaving only two livestock guardian dogs at The Glenn. Suddenly Perezvon is needed again.
The old dog has a purpose.
But fulfilling it requires something new from him. He is learning, quite literally, an old dog’s new trick: wearing a virtual-fence collar and learning boundaries that keep him with the sheep he is supposed to guard.
As I watch him, I recognize myself.
At 68, perhaps one of the spiritual dangers I face is not that God has stopped giving my life purpose, but that I have confused a changing role with a disappearing purpose.
The two are not the same.
Perezvon’s circumstances changed. Chickens became sheep. One dog became several dogs. Puppies became working adults. Those dogs moved elsewhere. Technology entered the picture in the form of a virtual fence.
Yet underneath all those changes remains something remarkably simple:
Guard what has been entrusted to you.
Perhaps my own purpose is not so different.
The Glenn has been entrusted to me. Creation has been entrusted to me. My family has been entrusted to me. My faith has been entrusted to me. The particular people and creatures whose lives intersect mine have, in different ways, been entrusted to my care.
During this Season of Creation, I need to ask whether technology helps me fulfill that purpose or quietly replaces it.
A virtual fence may help Perezvon remain with the sheep. But the collar is not his purpose.
Guarding is.
Likewise, my phone, artificial intelligence, solar technology, social media, virtual fencing and all the other tools available to me may help me accomplish worthwhile things.
But none of them can tell me why I am here.
Perhaps God’s discipline sometimes feels rather like Perezvon’s collar: a boundary, correction or uncomfortable reminder that I have wandered away from what I was supposed to be guarding.
At 68, I am not finished simply because some former roles are finished.
Maybe I am simply an old dog being called back to the flock.
3. Oratio — Prayer
Lord Jesus, you knew the purpose for which you were sent. Help me rediscover the purpose for which you have placed me here.
When I wander, correct me. When I become distracted, call me back. Teach me to guard faithfully whatever you have entrusted to me.
Amen.
4. Contemplatio — Contemplation
Purpose.
Saint Paul VI’s warning gives me a way to understand what Perezvon is teaching me: extraordinary scientific progress and technical achievement do not necessarily mean human progress.
The question is always: Toward what end?
Perezvon’s virtual-fence collar is valuable precisely because it serves something beyond itself. Its success is not measured by how technologically sophisticated it is but by whether it helps an old livestock guardian dog stay with the livestock he is supposed to protect.
That same test can be applied to technology in my own life.
Artificial intelligence can give me more information—but does it help me become more discerning?
Technology can give me more control over The Glenn—but does it make me a better steward?
Digital communication can give me more connections—but does it deepen communion?
Technology can make me more productive—but does it help me become more fully human?
That is the difference Magnifica humanitas identifies between “having more” and “being more.”
Without purpose, I can accumulate means while forgetting the end.
And perhaps that is why Perezvon’s story touches me so deeply. He did not need another gadget to give him a purpose. He already had one. The technology merely helps redirect him toward it.
Maybe God’s discipline is doing something similar with me.
My age does not erase my purpose. Changing circumstances do not erase it. New technologies do not create it. Even my wandering does not necessarily destroy it.
They may simply force me to rediscover it.
Jesus says:
“…for this purpose I have been sent.”
Today I want to be able to say something similar—not because I have completely figured out what the remaining years of my life will look like, but because I know what direction I should face.
Toward God.
Toward others.
Toward creation.
Toward whatever has been entrusted to my care.
And when I wander beyond those boundaries, perhaps I should be grateful that God loves me enough to call me back.
The technology may change.
The circumstances may change.
My age certainly changes.
But the deepest purpose remains:
stay with the flock, and faithfully guard what God has entrusted to me.
Day 2 of The Season of Creation on Wednesday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time
