"'[In 1809] men were following with bated breath the march of Napoleon and waiting with feverish impatience for news of the wars. And all the while in their homes babies were being born. But who could think about babies? Everybody was thinking about battles.
"'In one year between Trafalgar and Waterloo there stole into the world a host of heroes: Gladstone was born in Liverpool; Tennyson at the Somersby Rectory; and Oliver Wendell Holmes in Massachusetts. Abraham Lincoln was born in Kentucky, and music was enriched by the advent of Felix Mendelssohn in Hamburg....
"'But nobody thought of babies, everybody was thinking of battles. Yet which of the battles of 1809 mattered more than the babies of 1809? We fancy God can manage His world only with great battalions, when all the time he is doing it with beautiful babies.
"'When a wrong wants righting, or a truth wants preaching, or a continent wants discovering, God sends a baby into the world to do it!' (in Faith Precedes the Miracle , 323)."
Babies like you. Like me. Like those heroes and prophets, diplomats and soldiers, neighbors, nurses, mortal saviors and angels of history, the present, and the future. Acclaimed or unsung, to assist multitudes or minister to individuals, we were each born for a deliberate and specific purpose.
Some have found their purpose. Some have fulfilled it. Others are still looking for it. Some don't believe in it at all.
But the purposes are there.
The Purposer is there.
And because of that, eventually, I'll find my purpose. And, somehow, fulfill it. Find utter fulfillment in it. And, too, help prepare the way for the next generation to fulfill its own.
So will you.