Bonus Post 3.5: Why are You Here?
I had a different post planned for this week. But a conversation with
—engineer, writer, thinker—led me down a different road. So, today’s post is a pause. A reflection. A reminder. The planned post will still arrive tomorrow (more soup for you!). But this one felt important. Because sometimes, the most formative moments come not from the script, but from the spark.Josh is a LeTourneau graduate, an engineering professor at Harvey Mudd, and the author of
, a thoughtful Substack exploring technology, vocation, and the redemptive arc of learning. We’ve gotten to know each other over the past few years, and I find him to be one of the most interesting “thought people” I’ve ever encountered.We met up recently and talked about this Substack—
— and he was deeply encouraging. Our conversation ranged from his work on redemptive quests (check out He's Got a Bigger Shovel for a glimpse), to the future of meaningful engineering education, to the spiritual and cultural moment we find ourselves in. As I usually do after talking with Josh, I left inspired.
I wasn’t sure whether to post about our meeting, but then I stumbled across one of his summer articles in my inbox: Make College Contemplative Again. It explores the purpose and value of college, the risks of burnout, and the importance of not overscheduling. He diagnoses so many of the same things I talk about with students that it was almost eerie.
So today I decided to share a short excerpt from late in my book—one that speaks directly to this theme. It’s an exercise I do with every incoming engineering class early in their first semester. I do it again during their final year, just before they graduate. It begins with a simple question:
Why are you here?
Why study engineering?
Why at this university?
At first, the answers are surface-level:
“To earn a degree.”
“To learn engineering.”
“To get a job.”
I push a little harder, sometimes asking, ‘But why?’. And the answers deepen:
“To grow in confidence and creativity.”
“To be mentored.”
“To develop leadership and work ethic.”
“To learn how to learn.”
Then I get quiet. I wait. And eventually—sometimes hesitantly, sometimes boldly—someone says it:
“To discover my purpose.”
“To serve.”
“To help build His kingdom.”
Yes. These are the real answers.
And if you look closely, you’ll notice something: these answers are t-shaped.
The first set? Technical depth.
The second? Relational breadth.
The third? Our meaning and purpose for God’s Kingdom.
This is why we do what we do. This is why formation matters. This is why choosing the right school isn’t just about rankings or facilities—it’s about calling.
Next time I do this exercise with students—“Why are you here?”—I think I’ll add one more note. Something Josh reminded me of: the importance of margin. Of leaving space for contemplation. In a world that rewards hustle and optimization, we need quiet. We need time to think, to pray, to reflect. Because formation doesn’t happen in the rush—it happens in the pause.
So maybe the real question isn’t just “Why are you here?”
Maybe it’s also: “Are you giving yourself enough space to find out?”
Contemplation Questions
Why are you reading this Substack? Is it resonating with one of the parts of the “t” for you?
(Inspired by Josh) Consider writing a document that answers the big questions of why you are in college (or at your job, pursuing your hobby, a member at your church, etc.) and what you want out of it.
(Inspired by Josh) Have you tracked your time lately? The digital ecosystem can creep in and eat up our days without us even noticing. Maybe it’s time to take stock?
