I used to stand in front of my middle school students after they finished an essay or story and ask one simple question:
“So what?”
They would stare at me, unsure what I meant. I wasn’t trying to be mean or sassy. I was trying to get them to find meaning behind their story. So I’d continue:
Why are you telling me this?
Why does it matter?
What’s your point?
I used to drill into my students that every good story needs a “so what,” a reason, a takeaway…a point.
But I’ve realized that question only works for essays, not for real life, especially in seasons of suffering. I’ve had health issues, and I still do. And when you go through a season like that, you don’t ask “so what?” You ask why. Not a “why me?” but more like, why now?
And there isn’t always an answer.
“What’s the point?” doesn’t feel like the right question when you’re just trying to make it through the day. It doesn’t feel meaningful in the moment.
And if I’m honest, for a long time my story felt like one big unanswered question:
So what is all of this for?
But today at church, something hit me.
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ… who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction…” (2 Corinthians 1:3–4)
The pastor focused on those two words:
So that.
Wow, he comforts me (which He always does), but comfort for me to give another.
What if my life was never meant to be a “so what”…
What if it’s always been a “so that”?
So that I would slow down and pay attention.
So that I would be humbled.
So that I would stop performing and moving so much.
So that I would actually feel what others are walking through.
So that I could sit across from someone in pain and not try to fix it, but to understand it.
So that someday, I could help someone else.
And so that I can give something I may have needed so deeply myself.
Everyone has a “so that.” It’s something bigger than you. A purpose. Maybe it’s the question we’ve been missing. Something may have been given to you, a struggle, a hardship, a challenge, a tragedy, and it can be devastating. Heartbreaking. It can change your life in ways you didn’t plan.
But perhaps it’s time to finish the sentence:
This has been happening to me so that….
For me, it hasn’t explained everything, but it has given it meaning and purpose.
And for that…
I can trust Him.