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From Vocation to “Purpose”: How We Ended Up Expecting Work to Give Our Lives Meaning
Updated: Oct 24
I've been watching The Great , which, if you're unfamiliar, is a satirical dramedy loosely based on the rise to power of Catherine the Great in eighteenth-century Russia. Somewhere between the palace intrigue and the rather liberal interpretation of historical events, I found myself wondering how ideas from the Enlightenment still echo in our modern search for purpose.
Because somewhere along the way, we've managed to turn something we do into something that's supposed to explain who we are, what we're worth and why we're here.
Which seems like rather a lot to ask of a job.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
From what we do to who we are: When work became a calling
Work has undergone a significant transformation throughout history. It has shifted from being a mere necessity to a profound quest for meaning. This evolution raises important questions: What does work mean to us today? How do we navigate the expectations we place on our careers?
For much of human history, work was not expected to carry the emotional weight it does today. The question was not “What is your purpose?” but rather “What does it mean to live well?” In classical philosophy, thinkers like Aristotle introduced the concept of telos - the natural fulfilment of a life. For them, flourishing meant cultivating virtue and engaging deeply with society through friendships, civic life, intellectual exploration, and ethical character.
Work existed, but it was not the centre of identity. It was only one part of a broader picture of what it meant to live well.
Fast forward to the Protestant Reformation. Reformers like Martin Luther transformed work into a moral calling. Suddenly, everyday occupations became a way to serve God through discipline and responsibility. Sociologist Max Weber later argued this mindset laid the psychological groundwork for modern capitalism. Your job became a reflection of your moral character.
This shift gave work a new kind of meaning. But it also started to blur the lines between personal identity and professional role.
During the Enlightenment, another shift occurred, and the focus moved from serving God to serving society. Thinkers like Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Adam Smith emphasised the role of citizens in advancing the collective prosperity of society. Education and professional skill were framed as ways to contribute to the common good.
The ideal of the “useful citizen” took hold. This was someone who cultivated their abilities and applied them for society’s benefit. Work became a civic duty, a way to participate in the progress of the community.
Industrialisation further strengthened the idea that our occupation is central to our identity. Education systems trained people for specialised professions. Organisations created career ladders and long-term employment paths.
Over time, a new narrative emerged: discover your strengths, pursue a career, and find purpose through your work.
The Trouble with Work as Purpose
Somewhere along the way, finding work we enjoy became finding work we love. And finding work we love became finding our purpose. Which, when you think about it, is rather a lot of pressure to put on a job.
Work has now become the primary place where we seek meaning, achievement, and recognition. When our sense of identity becomes closely tied to our professional lives, changes at work can begin to feel like changes to who we are.
A missed promotion, a failed business or even the realisation that we no longer want what we once worked so hard for can leave us questioning more than our career choices. We may know, intellectually, that our worth isn't determined by our achievements, yet still feel inadequate when we're not achieving.
And perhaps that's what makes this relationship with work so complicated. It's not simply about what we do, but the stories we've come to tell ourselves about what doing those things says about us. If success becomes proof that we're worthy, what happens when we fail, change direction or simply decide we want something different?
The era of commoditised purpose
We're encouraged to follow our passions, find our calling and build careers that reflect who we really are. The implication is that somewhere out there is a particular kind of work that will make everything click into place. Something that combines our talents, interests, values, dreams, in short, our multitudes into one wonderfully fulfilling occupation.
And if we haven't found it yet? Well, perhaps we just haven't looked hard enough.
I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting meaningful work. Quite the opposite. Given how much of our lives we spend working, it makes sense to want that time to feel worthwhile. But there's a difference between wanting satisfaction from our work and believing that our work should provide the answer to who we are and why we're here.
There's also the question of choice. For many people, employment is first and foremost about financial security, supporting a family or simply getting by. The ability to change careers, take a pay cut, retrain or spend time discovering one's passion often depends on having resources and opportunities that others don't. And yet, often the language used around work and purpose can quietly turn economic circumstances into personal shortcomings.
Meanwhile purpose itself has become something we can package, market and sell. Brands promise to help us live more meaningful lives. Entire industries have emerged around helping individuals discover their calling and turn their passions into profitable businesses.
Even our leisure interests can become potential side hustles, personal brands or opportunities for self-improvement. Something we once did simply because we enjoyed it suddenly comes with the question: Could I monetise this?
And I wonder whether, in our enthusiasm to make everything productive, we've made it harder to appreciate things that don't need to lead anywhere at all.
What If Work Were Just One Part of a Meaningful Life?
I want to be clear about something. I believe deeply in the importance of meaningful work.
There is value to be found in growing vegetables, cleaning our streets, teaching children, building businesses and helping people understand themselves a little better. There is dignity in contributing something useful to the world, however that contribution happens to be valued or rewarded.
And given how much of our lives we spend working, I think it's entirely reasonable to want our work to reflect our values, engage our interests and give us a sense that what we're doing matters.
But I wonder whether we've started confusing finding value in our work with finding our value through work. They're not quite the same thing. The first recognises that work can be one of the many ways we contribute to the world and experience meaning.
The second risks making our professional lives responsible for defining who we are, what we're worth and whether we've lived successfully. And I think we're so much more than that.
There is meaning in the things we do for our families, friends and communities without expecting anything in return. In caring for someone who's unwell. In showing up when a friend needs us. In sharing what we know, making someone feel welcome or giving our time to something we believe in.
And there is meaning in things that serve no obvious purpose beyond the joy of experiencing them. Singing loudly to a song you love. Dancing simply because the music moves you. Growing something just to see it flourish. Giggling uncontrollably with your closest friends about your latest spectacular failure.
These moments might not advance our careers, improve our productivity or contribute to some carefully articulated life mission. But surely they're part of what makes a life meaningful?
Whatever happened to play?
I find it interesting that, when it comes to children, we seem to understand the value of exploration rather better.
We encourage them to take dance classes, learn musical instruments, join sports clubs, paint, sing, act and try their hand at all sorts of things. Of course, some of those children might go on to become professional dancers, musicians or athletes. But for most, that isn't really the point.
We recognise that these experiences have value even when they lead to absolutely nothing in professional terms. So why does that understanding seem to diminish as we grow older?
At what point does dancing become something we should only pursue if we're good at it? When does singing become something we ought to be able to perform? When does an interest become a skill to develop, a qualification to earn or, better still, a side hustle?
Somewhere along the way, play starts to look suspiciously like wasted time. And yet, why should the freedom to experiment, discover and enjoy ourselves belong primarily to childhood?
Surely we're still capable of learning new things, surprising ourselves and discovering parts of who we are that we haven't yet had the opportunity to explore.
Not because we're trying to become exceptional at something. Not because it will make us more employable, interesting or successful. But because curiosity, pleasure and discovery are worthwhile in their own right.
Making room for a fuller life
I wonder whether the problem isn't that we're searching for purpose, but that we've developed such a narrow idea of where we're allowed to find it.
We tend to celebrate the visible, measurable expressions of a successful life. The career progression. The business built. The recognition earned. The impressive answer to that familiar question: So, what do you do? And there's nothing inherently wrong with any of those things.
But what about the parts of our lives that don't come with a title, a salary or a measurable outcome? Perhaps purpose doesn't have to be one grand calling that we discover and spend the rest of our lives fulfilling.
Perhaps it can be something we experience in different ways, through different relationships, activities and stages of life. Perhaps it changes as we change.
And perhaps a successful, purposeful life has less to do with finding the one thing we're meant to do, and more to do with creating space for the many things that make being human worthwhile.
I don't think this means abandoning ambition or becoming less invested in our work. I love making things, solving problems, learning and contributing to something beyond myself. I want my work to matter, and I hope it does.
But I don't want it to be the only thing that matters.
Because a career can be fulfilling without being our entire identity. We can contribute meaningfully without being paid. We can experience joy without needing to justify it as productive. And we can change our minds about what matters without feeling that we've somehow failed to fulfil our potential.
Maybe the question isn't Have I found my purpose? Maybe it's Am I making room for the things that give my life meaning?
And perhaps, rather than searching endlessly for the one thing that will define us, we could begin by exploring the many things that tickle our fancy.
We are, after all, so much more than what we do for a living.
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