Everything Happens for a Reason – Or Does It?

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Quick Summary

Life’s most persistent myth meets reality’s messiest truths. We’ll explore whether there is a grand plan or if we’re just really good at connecting dots that don’t exist. Spoiler: both answers might be right, and that’s the point. Sometimes the most profound wisdom lies not in having certainty, but in dancing with ambiguity.

Introduction

Picture this: You’re running late for the most important job interview of your life when your car breaks down. As you frantically call for help, a stranger stops to offer assistance – and it turns out they work for the very company you’re hoping to join. Six months later, they become your mentor, your career takes off, and you look back thinking, “Everything happens for a reason.”

But what about the person whose car also broke down that day, who missed their child’s graduation and never quite forgave themselves? Did everything happen for a reason for them, too?

This age-old phrase – “everything happens for a reason” – sits at the intersection of hope and delusion, wisdom and wishful thinking. It’s the philosophical equivalent of comfort food: warm, satisfying, and not always good for us. Today, we’re going to dig into this seductive concept and ask the uncomfortable questions that might just change how you see your entire life story.

The Story of Louis Rawlings

The morning Louis Rawlings lost everything, the sky was the colour of old pewter, heavy with unshed rain that seemed to press down on the city like a guilty conscience. He stood in his corner office on the forty-third floor, the bitter taste of burnt coffee still coating his tongue, watching the ant-like people far below navigate their Monday morning routines. The leather chair behind his mahogany desk – the one he’d saved six months to afford when he first made partner – creaked with familiar comfort as he settled in to review the morning’s emails.

The scent of his wife’s perfume still lingered on his shirt collar from their goodbye kiss, a delicate mixture of jasmine and vanilla that always reminded him of their honeymoon in Provence. Sarah had been unusually quiet over breakfast, pushing her scrambled eggs around her plate while their eight-year-old daughter Emma chattered about the school play. He’d attributed Sarah’s silence to pre-presentation nerves – she had a big pitch that afternoon for her marketing firm.

The first email in his inbox made his blood turn to ice water.

Subject: Urgent – Accounting Discrepancies Require Immediate Review

Louis’s fingers trembled slightly as he scrolled through spreadsheet after spreadsheet of numbers that didn’t add up. His business partner of fifteen years, Marcus, had been slowly siphoning money from their architectural firm for the past three years. The embezzlement wasn’t just devastating – it was comprehensive. Client payments diverted, operating expenses inflated, taxes unpaid. The firm was bankrupt, and worse, Louis’s personal guarantees on their loans meant he was about to lose everything he’d spent twenty years building.

The sound of his phone buzzing cut through his shock like a blade. Sarah’s name flashed on the screen.

“Louis?” Her voice was thick with tears. “We need to talk. I… I can’t do this anymore. I’ve been seeing someone else. I’m taking Emma to my mother’s. The papers will be delivered this afternoon.”

The phone slipped from his numb fingers, clattering against the hardwood floor with a sound like breaking bones. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Louis watched a red-tailed hawk circle in the grey sky, riding the thermals with effortless grace, completely indifferent to the human drama unfolding below.

By noon, Louis Rawlings had lost his business, his marriage, and his reputation. The local news would run the story that evening: “Prominent Architect Firm Declares Bankruptcy Amid Fraud Investigation.” His name, carefully built over two decades, would be linked forever with scandal, even though he was the victim.

Standing in the parking garage that evening, the fluorescent lights humming overhead like dying insects, Louis found himself thinking about that damn phrase everyone would inevitably tell him in the coming weeks: “Everything happens for a reason.”

What possible reason could there be for this? What lesson required the destruction of everything he’d worked for? What grand plan needed his eight-year-old daughter to spend her weekends shuttling between broken parents?

But here’s where Louis Rawlings’s story takes an unexpected turn – not because a mysterious plan was suddenly revealed, but because Louis stopped looking for one.

Three months later, living in a studio apartment that smelled faintly of the previous tenant’s cigarettes, Louis discovered something remarkable. Without the crushing pressure of partnership meetings, without the constant anxiety about quarterly projections and employee salaries, without the performance of being the successful husband and father, he could breathe. For the first time in years, he could actually breathe.

He began sketching again – not buildings for wealthy clients, but tree houses for his daughter during their precious weekend visits. He designed playground equipment that celebrated wonder instead of efficiency. He created architectural drawings for a homeless shelter, working for free with a passion he’d forgotten he possessed.

On a crisp autumn morning exactly one year after his world collapsed, Louis sat in a small café, the smell of cinnamon rolls and fresh coffee creating an atmosphere of simple comfort. Across from him sat Maria Santos, the director of a nonprofit organisation dedicated to building sustainable housing for low-income families. She’d seen his shelter designs and wanted to offer him a position – not the salary he used to command, but work that fed his soul instead of just his bank account.

“I have to ask,” Maria said, stirring her coffee thoughtfully, “what made you shift from high-end commercial work to this?”

Louis considered telling her about karma, about divine intervention, about everything happening for a reason. Instead, he smiled and said, “I learned that sometimes the best thing that can happen to you is the worst thing that can happen to you. Not because it was meant to be, but because of what you choose to do with it.”

The late afternoon sun streamed through the café window, warming Louis’s face as he signed the contract for his new position. Outside, that same red-tailed hawk – or perhaps its cousin – soared past the window, still riding the invisible currents with perfect, purposeless grace.

Five Key Takeaways

1. Meaning is Created, Not Discovered We don’t find reasons in events – we create meaning from them. The difference is crucial: one makes us passive observers waiting for cosmic revelation, the other makes us active architects of our own understanding.

2. Suffering Doesn’t Require Justification Sometimes terrible things happen for no reason at all, and that’s not a failure of the universe – it’s just Tuesday. Our pain doesn’t need to serve a higher purpose to be valid or to be transformed into something meaningful.

3. The Stories We Tell Shape Our Reality Whether you believe everything happens for a reason or that life is random chaos, you’re probably right. Our narratives become our lived experience, so choose the story that serves your growth, not your comfort.

4. Comfort and Growth Rarely Coexist The “everything happens for a reason” mindset can be a prison disguised as peace. Sometimes the most liberating thing you can do is admit that maybe, just maybe, there’s no grand plan – and that’s perfectly fine.

5. Purpose is a Practice, Not a Discovery Instead of waiting to discover your purpose, practice creating it. Purpose isn’t something you find under a rock or receive in a cosmic download – it’s something you forge through conscious choice and consistent action.

Transformative Exercise

Here’s a powerful exercise to help you explore your relationship with reason and meaning:

Step 1: Choose Your Stories Write down three significant events from your life – one positive, one negative, and one neutral. For each event, write two different narratives:

Version A: “This happened for a reason because…”
Version B: “This happened randomly, and I chose to…”

Step 2: Feel the Difference Notice how each version makes you feel. Which narrative empowers you? Which one makes you feel like a victim or passive recipient? Which one opens up possibilities?

Step 3: The Flip Test Take a current challenge you’re facing. Write the “everything happens for a reason” explanation. Then flip it: write how you might create meaning and purpose from this situation regardless of whether there’s a cosmic reason.

Step 4: Choose Your Operating System Decide consciously: which narrative framework serves your growth, relationships, and wellbeing? You’re allowed to use different frameworks for different situations.

Remember: this isn’t about finding the “true” answer – it’s about discovering which stories help you become the person you want to be.

“I can’t control the wind, but I can adjust my sails.” – Anonymous

This quote perfectly captures the essence of our exploration because it acknowledges two crucial truths simultaneously: we don’t control everything that happens to us (the wind), but we have profound power over how we respond (adjusting our sails). It sidesteps the entire debate about whether the wind has a purpose and focuses on what actually matters – our agency in creating meaning and direction from whatever circumstances we face.

The quote is beautifully practical, avoiding both the trap of assuming everything is predetermined and the paralysis of believing nothing matters. It’s a middle way that honours both the mystery of existence and our responsibility within it.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q: If nothing happens for a reason, doesn’t that make life meaningless? A: Not at all – it makes life more meaningful, not less. When meaning isn’t handed to you by fate, you become responsible for creating it. That’s not a burden; it’s the ultimate creative act. You become the author of your own significance.

Q: How do I comfort someone going through tragedy if I can’t say “everything happens for a reason”? A: Try “I don’t know why this happened, but I’m here with you” or “This doesn’t make sense, and that’s okay – we’ll figure out what comes next together.” Presence and solidarity are infinitely more valuable than philosophical platitudes.

Q: Aren’t some coincidences too meaningful to be random? A: Maybe! But here’s the thing – whether a coincidence is cosmically orchestrated or statistically inevitable doesn’t change how you respond to it. Focus on what you do with these moments rather than where they come from.

Q: How do I stop feeling guilty when bad things happen to others but not to me? A: Survivor guilt assumes there’s a moral logic to suffering – that good things happen to good people and vice versa. Once you accept that distribution of fortune isn’t based on merit, you can focus on using your advantages to help others rather than feeling guilty about having them.

Q: What’s the difference between accepting randomness and becoming cynical? A: Accepting randomness can actually increase compassion and decrease judgment. When you realise everyone’s dealing with circumstances largely beyond their control, it becomes easier to extend grace. Cynicism assumes people are fundamentally bad; accepting randomness assumes they’re fundamentally human.

Conclusion

So, does everything happen for a reason? The answer is both simpler and more complex than we’d like: it depends entirely on what you mean by “reason” and who’s doing the asking.

Perhaps the deepest truth lies not in choosing between divine sovereignty and human agency, but in embracing the mystery of their partnership. Maybe there’s a loving presence that works through our choices rather than despite them – not as a cosmic puppetmaster pulling strings, but as a patient gardener who knows that even the most broken soil can yield unexpected fruit.

The real question isn’t whether everything happens for a reason, but whether we’re willing to trust that our responses to life’s uncertainties can become part of something larger than ourselves. Whether we’re ready to see our struggles not as punishments to decode, but as invitations to participate in the ongoing work of healing a broken world.

When we stop demanding that every tragedy serve an obvious purpose, we create space for grace to work in ways that surpass our understanding. When we release our need to justify every loss, we discover that love doesn’t require explanation – it simply asks us to keep showing up, keep serving, keep believing that light can emerge from the deepest darkness.

Perhaps the most radical act isn’t insisting on perfect understanding, but trusting that our small acts of courage and compassion ripple outward in ways we may never fully comprehend. Not because we can prove it was meant to be, but because we choose to live as if love wins in the end.

The hawks are still circling overhead, riding those invisible currents with purposeful grace. And we’re not so different – carried by forces we can’t fully see, yet somehow knowing exactly where we need to go.

Ready to explore these questions in one of the most beautiful settings on earth? Join our stress-relief walking retreats along the Camino de Santiago in southwest France. Sometimes the best insights come not from thinking harder, but from walking slower. In the gentle rhythm of ancient paths, surrounded by rolling vineyards and medieval villages, you’ll discover what happens when you stop rushing toward answers and start walking toward wisdom. Because sometimes the journey really is the destination – not because it was meant to be, but because you chose to make it so.

Learn more about my stress relief walking retreats. Your next chapter is waiting.