I have a secret thought from some things I have observed, that

In the trembling voice of faith and vision, the missionary and mystic David Brainerd once wrote, “I have a secret thought from some things I have observed, that God may perhaps design you for some singular service in the world.” These words, tender yet powerful, rise like a whisper from eternity. They speak to that divine stirring which lives within all souls — the sense that one’s life is not an accident of time and birth, but a thread in the vast tapestry of purpose woven by unseen hands. Brainerd, whose short and suffering life was aflame with devotion, uttered these words not to glorify destiny, but to awaken the calling of the spirit — that deep, secret thought that perhaps one is meant for something more, something sacred.

To understand these words, one must know the man who spoke them. David Brainerd, a missionary in 18th-century America, gave his days and health to spreading light among the native peoples of the wilderness. Though consumed by illness, loneliness, and the hardship of his calling, he never lost his faith in the quiet designs of Providence. His journals, written with the raw intimacy of one who wrestled with both despair and divine love, reveal a man who saw meaning even in suffering. When he wrote this quote — likely to a young disciple or friend — he was passing down a truth learned through trial: that the signs of destiny are often small, hidden in what we call coincidence, revealed to the discerning heart as hints of divine design.

“A secret thought from some things I have observed” — these words speak to the mystery of discernment. For Brainerd, the signs of God’s will were not written in thunder or flame, but in the quiet events of daily life: the resilience of the soul in hardship, the compassion that will not die, the courage that rises unbidden in moments of doubt. Such are the footprints of purpose, invisible to the indifferent, but clear to those who walk with awareness. He understood that every human being carries within them the spark of singular service — a calling unique and irreplaceable — and that the Creator often reveals it not through ease, but through endurance.

Throughout history, many who have changed the world were guided by this same conviction. Consider Joan of Arc, a peasant girl who heard within her heart the call of God and rose to lead armies. To others, her destiny was madness; to her, it was obedience to a divine whisper. Or William Wilberforce, who, moved by faith, dedicated his life to ending the scourge of slavery. These were not lives of comfort, but of conviction. Like Brainerd, they too felt that their lives were designed — not by chance or ambition, but by the quiet, sovereign intention of a higher will. And their impact was proof that one life guided by divine purpose can alter the course of nations.

Brainerd’s phrase, “singular service in the world,” carries a profound humility. He does not speak of greatness or glory, but of service — the sacred work of giving oneself to the world in alignment with the divine will. To serve, in his understanding, is the highest expression of the soul. And to be called to singular service is not to be exalted above others, but to bear a responsibility that must be met with courage and grace. Each life, he suggests, is a vessel through which God’s love and wisdom may enter the world, if only the vessel is willing to be filled.

But what does it mean for us, in our own time, to hear these words? It means to listen for the quiet nudging of purpose that speaks within us. It may come as a passion for justice, a tenderness for the suffering, a hunger to create beauty, or a drive to teach, heal, and protect. It is that inward pull that tells us, “Your life is meant to matter.” To heed this call is to step into the current of the divine, to allow one’s life to become an instrument of the greater good. To ignore it is to live adrift — surrounded by possibility, yet untouched by meaning.

So, O soul that hungers for purpose, take this teaching as both comfort and challenge: your life is not random. There are signs — small, subtle, sacred — that point toward your singular service. Watch for them as Brainerd did. Listen for them as Joan did. And when they appear, do not doubt them. You may not be called to lead nations or build monuments; you may simply be called to love, to endure, to create, to lift another’s burden. But in the divine scale, no act of service is small. For the world is changed not only by the grand, but by the faithful.

Thus, let the secret thought become your living truth: you are designed for purpose. Not by chance, not by circumstance, but by the eternal hand that shapes all destinies. And when you walk in that knowledge — when your life becomes an offering of service — you fulfill the hope that Brainerd saw in his vision: that every human being, when awakened to the divine design within them, becomes a light unto the world, and a living testament to the will of God.