"Set yourself earnestly to see what you are made to do, and then set yourself earnestly to do it"
About this Quote
Brooks writes like a man trying to rescue “purpose” from becoming a parlor game. The line is built on a deliberate, almost austere repetition: “set yourself earnestly” twice, as if to insist that discernment and action are the same moral muscle. He’s not offering a dreamy invitation to self-expression; he’s issuing a Protestant-flavored directive. The self is not a brand to curate but an instrument to be tuned, then used.
The intent is practical spiritual discipline. “See what you are made to do” sounds gentle, but it carries a hard claim: you are “made” - by God, by conscience, by a vocation that exists prior to your whims. That verb quietly limits modern fantasies of infinite reinvention. You don’t invent your calling; you uncover it, then submit to it. The subtext is also a warning against two common evasions: endless self-analysis that never risks commitment, and busywork that avoids the question of what actually matters. Brooks refuses to let either count as “earnest.”
Context matters here. As a 19th-century American clergyman, Brooks preached to a rising middle class in an age of industrial churn, moral reform movements, and a growing ideology of self-help. His line borrows self-help’s briskness while rejecting its self-sovereignty. It’s vocation talk aimed at a world where “success” is getting louder and “duty” is getting softer.
What makes it work is its economy: no mystical fog, no heroic language. Just a two-step liturgy of attention and follow-through, with “earnestly” as the price of admission.
The intent is practical spiritual discipline. “See what you are made to do” sounds gentle, but it carries a hard claim: you are “made” - by God, by conscience, by a vocation that exists prior to your whims. That verb quietly limits modern fantasies of infinite reinvention. You don’t invent your calling; you uncover it, then submit to it. The subtext is also a warning against two common evasions: endless self-analysis that never risks commitment, and busywork that avoids the question of what actually matters. Brooks refuses to let either count as “earnest.”
Context matters here. As a 19th-century American clergyman, Brooks preached to a rising middle class in an age of industrial churn, moral reform movements, and a growing ideology of self-help. His line borrows self-help’s briskness while rejecting its self-sovereignty. It’s vocation talk aimed at a world where “success” is getting louder and “duty” is getting softer.
What makes it work is its economy: no mystical fog, no heroic language. Just a two-step liturgy of attention and follow-through, with “earnestly” as the price of admission.
Quote Details
| Topic | Goal Setting |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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