I've never had anyone define purity. You probably can't define

In the voice of one who has sought truth across the vast landscape of human thought, Josh McDowell, the Christian apologist and teacher, once spoke these profound words: “I’ve never had anyone define purity. You probably can’t define purity. Purity is to live according to original design.” These words, though simple in phrasing, carry the weight of eternity. They do not speak only of moral restraint or outward virtue, but of alignment—of returning the soul to its intended purpose, to the harmony between creation and Creator, between what we are and what we were made to be. In them lies the ancient wisdom that purity is not a fragile ideal to be guarded from the world, but a living truth to be embodied in it.

To understand the origin of this quote, one must first understand McDowell’s life and calling. Born in 1939, he was once a skeptic who rejected the faith he would later defend. Through a long journey of questioning, study, and personal awakening, he came to believe deeply in divine truth. His ministry focused on guiding young minds toward integrity, faith, and understanding in an age clouded by confusion. When McDowell spoke of “original design,” he was invoking a vision of life that reaches back to the dawn of creation—to the idea that human beings were crafted with purpose, that our nature was once whole, unstained by deceit or self-centeredness. In his eyes, to be pure is not to live without flaw, but to live as one was meant to live—authentic, loving, and true.

This notion, though rooted in faith, echoes the oldest teachings of the world. The philosophers of Greece spoke of arete, the excellence of living according to one’s nature—the fulfillment of design. The Taoists of China called it the Way, the unbroken flow of life when one’s heart moves in rhythm with the universe. And the Scriptures themselves speak of a garden, where man and woman once walked unashamed, their hearts unclouded, their purpose unbroken. When McDowell says purity cannot be defined, he means that no list of rules can capture it. Purity is not the absence of sin—it is the presence of harmony, the condition of a heart aligned with its Maker’s intention.

The story of King David from the ancient Hebrew texts offers a perfect mirror to this truth. David, though called “a man after God’s own heart,” stumbled grievously—he coveted, deceived, and murdered. Yet when he repented, his cry was not for perfection but for restoration: “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” In that prayer, he sought to return to his original design, to the state of purity not by denying his humanity, but by reuniting it with divine intention. David’s story teaches that purity is not the pride of being spotless, but the humility of returning to the source—the willingness to let light cleanse what darkness has touched.

McDowell’s insight, then, is both philosophical and practical. He reminds us that purity is not an external condition but an internal alignment. In a world that confuses purity with repression, or morality with image, his words call us back to essence. The seed of purity lies in every person, for all were born with purpose. Yet life, with its temptations and wounds, can distort that purpose. To be pure is to remember—to listen once more to the quiet voice of truth within, to walk the path for which one was designed. This is not a demand for perfection, but an invitation to authenticity.

There is an ancient tale told by the Sufis of a clear stream that flowed from the mountains, pure and full of life. As it descended, it passed through cities, deserts, and dark valleys, and became murky and heavy with dust. At last, weary and burdened, it stopped at the edge of the desert and said, “I can go no further.” But the wind whispered, “Trust me. Let me lift you, and I will carry you across.” And so the stream surrendered and was carried over the sands, becoming pure again as it rose into the sky. This, too, is McDowell’s message: purity comes not from clinging, but from returning—from surrendering to the truth that lifts us back to our original design.

So let this be the lesson, O seeker of clarity: purity is not what you avoid, but what you become when you live in harmony with your true purpose. Do not measure your worth by the absence of error, but by the presence of intention. Seek alignment with the design written deep within your heart—the design for love, for truth, for compassion. When your actions, words, and desires reflect that inner order, you will know purity, though it cannot be defined. For as Josh McDowell reminds us, purity is not a rule to follow but a path to return—the quiet pilgrimage of the soul back to the meaning for which it was made.