Sixteen years ago, almost to the day, I casually strolled down Massachusetts Ave at the heart of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology campus. I was on a mission to discover the one question students there would ask God, assuming He existed. The aim was to find the most common questions mentioned and build a lecture series around them, inviting students who were seeking. I didn’t really have a hypothesis; I sincerely wanted to know, hoping to explore biblical answers with them.
By far, the most fascinating question that emerged was the question of meaning. Though phrased differently by each academic mind and major, the core question was the same: “What is the meaning of life?”
This moved me. These bright minds, soon-to-be inventors of new coding languages, pioneers of technological advancement, theorists of reality, and co-founders of tech startups, grappled with the idea of meaning.
Three concepts of meaning
While the question seems simple enough to ask, its simplicity belies its depth and critical nuance. Most students who posed the question didn’t truly understand what they were asking or how they would know if an answer was sound and satisfying to their intellectual curiosity. Thus, when I finally held the lecture on the topic, it seemed paramount to define terms clearly and ensure that my answer could be understood and appreciated for its adequacy.
The central term to be defined was not “life” but “meaning.” So, what do we mean by meaning? Allow me to walk us briefly through three key definitions.
The first is when we refer to the definition of words, like in a dictionary. For example, the words “rouge,” “red,” and “marpo” all mean the same thing in French, English, and Tibetan.
The second is when we refer to the indicative. If I said,” Those clouds mean rain,” I am suggesting that the clouds indicate that rain is soon to come. Or perhaps I might say the fact that my daughter locks her eyes upon you while you tell a story means she’s interested.
Finally, we use the term when we refer to the significance of an object, event, or location. For example, a wedding ring signifies a lifelong commitment. The city of Mecca holds significance for Muslims because it is believed that the Prophet Muhammad was born there, and it holds the Kaaba, which was believed to have been built by Abraham and Ishmael.
Beyond itself
Distilling these three ideas, we can clearly see that significance is the core concept – the idea of something pointing beyond itself. The word “rouge” is not the color red but points to the color. The clouds are not the rain but point to the coming of rain. Mecca is not about a city, but a spiritual sacredness of space because of the holy figure who was born there or built a place of worship there.
Thus, when we ask, “What is the meaning of life?” we are asking, “What is the significance of life? What is life an indication of? What is it beyond life that gives it significance?” This teaches us that the answer cannot be found within life itself, as only something beyond it can give it significance.
And this begs the question, what could possibly be beyond life? Aliens? A quantum realm?
Signs of transcendence/divinity
King Solomon, in all his wisdom, declared that life “under the sun” was meaningless, a “chasing after the wind.” But why did he feel this way? After all, he had experienced the heights of earthly success: power, wealth, and even, it is said, a harem of 700 wives and 300 concubines. Yet, in the end, he found it all empty, fleeting.
Could it be that Solomon’s melancholy was not a sign of despair but rather a profound recognition of a deeper truth? A truth that whispers to us in the quiet moments, in the beauty of a sunset, in the pangs of conscience, and in selfless love?
This truth is that we are not merely creatures of the material world, confined to the “under the sun” existence that Solomon described. We are beings with an innate longing for something more, something transcendent, something divine. Far from a flaw, this longing stands as a signpost pointing us toward our true home, a place where meaning and significance are not fleeting shadows but eternal realities.
As C.S. Lewis eloquently put it, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.” This “other world” is not some distant galaxy or ethereal realm but a reality that intersects with our own, a reality that we can glimpse in the whispers of the Bible and the echoes of eternity that resonate within our souls.
When Jesus takes you to the desert, He packs a picnic
The sun beat down mercilessly on the hillside, casting long shadows across the faces of the multitude. Thousands upon thousands had gathered, their eyes fixed on Jesus, their hearts hungry for his words, their stomachs growling with a more earthly hunger. As the disciples frantically searched for a solution, a palpable anxiety hung in the air. “How can we feed so many with so little?” they thought, their voices filled with doubt.
But Jesus, ever the calm in the storm, saw not a problem but an opportunity. With a compassion that transcended human understanding, He took the meager offering of five loaves and two fish, blessed it, and began to break it. And as He broke it, the bread multiplied, the fish overflowed, and the crowd was fed physically and spiritually.
This miracle, recorded in John 6, is not merely a story of Jesus’ power over nature; it is a profound metaphor for His ability to satisfy the deepest longings of our hearts. He is the Bread of Life, the source of all sustenance and satisfaction. Even when we find ourselves in a spiritual desert, surrounded by lifeless hymn singing and despair, we can trust that Jesus has prepared a feast for us. He will nourish us with His Word, strengthen us with His Spirit, and fill us with a joy that the world cannot give or take away.
Seeing is believing, but believing is seeing
Imagine a world shrouded in perpetual darkness, a world where the sun is but a distant rumor, the faces of loved ones mere echoes in the mind. Such was the life of the man born blind, his existence confined to the blackness of an ending night.
Then came Jesus, a light shining in the darkness. With a touch, He opened the man’s eyes not only to the physical world but also to the spiritual reality that had always surrounded him. The Pharisees, blinded by their own pride and prejudice, refused to see the miracle. Their eyes functioned perfectly, but their hearts remained closed to the truth. They represented a simple but profound truth that the eyes will never see what the heart cannot accept.
This story, found in John 9, teaches us that true sight is not just about physical vision but spiritual perception. It’s about recognizing the hand of God at work in our lives, even when it challenges our preconceptions and societal norms. In the truest sense, believing is seeing. It’s about opening our hearts to the possibility of Jesus being more than what we have perceived Him to be, even when it seems to shatter the image of how we think He should be.
The blind man’s story powerfully reminds us that we are all, in a sense, born blind. We enter this world with a limited understanding of God and His purposes. But through faith, we can gain a new vision, a vision that allows us to see the world as God sees it—a world fallen but filled with beauty, grace, and endless possibilities.
Unwrapping the grave clothes of the past
The air hung heavy with grief in Bethany as Martha and Mary mourned the loss of their beloved brother, Lazarus. Their tears flowed freely; their hearts ached with an emptiness that seemed impossible to fill. Even Jesus, their dear friend and confidante, seemed to have arrived too late.
But Jesus, the source of life, was not bound by the limitations of death. With a voice that foreshadowed the gleams of the golden morning, He called Lazarus forth from the tomb. And Lazarus, still wrapped in his burial clothes, emerged, blinking in the sunlight, a living testament to the power of Christ over death.
This story, recorded in John 11, is not merely a clinical account of a miraculous resurrection; it is a profound metaphor for the Christian journey. We are all, in a sense, like Lazarus, a dead man walking, bound by the grave clothes of our past: our sins, our regrets, our fears. But Jesus calls us forth from the tomb, offering us a new life free from the shackles of the past.
The grave clothes, however, do not simply fall away. They must be unwrapped, one by one, as we surrender our old ways and embrace the new life that Christ offers. According to Jesus, they must be unwrapped by the spiritual community around us, to whom He says, “Loose him and let him go.” This is a process, a journey of transformation that requires faith, humility, and collaboration. But as we continue to follow Jesus, He, through the community of faith, gently unwraps the grave clothes, setting us free to live the abundant life He has planned for us.
Conclusion
So, what is the meaning of life? It’s not about achievements, possessions, or even happiness in the temporal sense. The meaning of life tucks itself away in the One who transcends life itself. It’s about an eternal approach to God through Christ, experiencing His love, and yielding to His purposes for our lives.
As we journey through life, we may face challenges, doubts, and moments of darkness. But we can always trust that Jesus is with us, providing for our needs, opening our eyes to His truth, and calling us to new life.
He is the answer to the question that resonates in the hearts of MIT students and seekers everywhere: “What is the meaning of life?”