Purpose Precedes Performance

The exchange recorded in John 1:22–23 is brief, yet profoundly revealing. When questioned about his identity, John the Baptist does not hesitate, embellish, or attempt to elevate himself. He answers with clarity and restraint, anchoring his identity in assignment rather than status. He knows who he is. He knows why he is here. He knows what he is not called to be. His words echo the prophecy spoken centuries earlier in Book of Isaiah, and he aligns himself fully with that divine intention.

What is striking is not only the accuracy of his response, but the confidence with which it is delivered. John does not define himself by the expectations of the crowd, the authority of religious leaders, or the curiosity of those who sent the delegation. His self-understanding is already settled. He is a voice. His purpose is preparation. His assignment is to make the path clear for the Lord.

This moment invites reflection on a deeper truth: purpose precedes performance. John’s effectiveness flowed from identity, not ambition. He did not discover his purpose midstream after years of trial and error. His life suggests intentional formation from the outset, shaped by divine calling and disciplined obedience. Such clarity does not emerge by accident. It is cultivated.

I have long held the conviction that every person arrives on earth with a specific purpose. Life is not random, and destiny is not generic. Each individual is entrusted with a unique assignment that contributes to God’s larger redemptive plan. The tragedy is not that people lack purpose, but that many live unaware of it, untrained for it, or distracted from it. When identity is unclear, time and resources are misdirected. When purpose is undefined, potential is diluted.

John’s life challenges modern assumptions that identity is something we invent over time. Scripture presents a different framework: identity is revealed, nurtured, and stewarded. It must be recognised early, spoken intentionally, and trained diligently. Formation matters. Environment matters. Mentorship matters. John’s wilderness was not an accident. It was a training ground. His separation was preparation, not isolation.

This has profound implications for how we view children, students, and those under our influence. From the beginning, they are not blank slates waiting to choose a purpose later in life. They are carriers of divine intent. Our responsibility is not to impose our ambitions upon them, but to help them discern who they are becoming, to cultivate their gifts, and to train them in alignment with God’s design. Purpose awareness should not be delayed until adulthood. It should be nurtured from the outset.

John the Baptist never tried to be the Messiah. He was content to be the voice. In a culture that celebrates visibility, prominence, and applause, his example reminds us that fulfilment is found in faithfulness to assignment, not in comparison or competition. Knowing who you are also means knowing who you are not.

To live with purpose is to live anchored. It provides direction in confusion, restraint in temptation, and courage in opposition. When a person knows why they are here, they are less easily swayed by external pressures. Their yes is deliberate. Their no is confident. Their life becomes coherent.

The question posed to John still echoes today: “What do you say about yourself?” The answer matters. When identity is rooted in God’s call, life gains clarity. When purpose is recognised early and trained intentionally, individuals are equipped to walk their path with conviction and grace. Like John, may we come to know who we are, and may we help others discover and walk faithfully in the purpose for which they were sent.