Holy Invitations

I grew up in a time when it was generally accepted that a person could follow whatever pursuits he or she desired.  My generation believed that we could go to college, graduate, and then we could get jobs doing whatever we were trained to do.  We were taught to dream big and to follow those dreams no matter what.

I began college with the idea that I would earn my Ph.D. in clinical psychology and eventually set up my own practice.  I finished college sensing that God had altered my path through a profound call to ministry.  So I entered seminary with the idea that I would earn an M.Div. and eventually become a pastor within a local congregation.  It made sense to transfer my dream big philosophy from one paradigm to another.

I can say with great confidence that God's call upon my life to ministry was absolutely genuine and legitimate.  What I have learned the hard way, however, is that the dream big philosophy had more to do with a cultural expectation than it did with God's invitation to a set apart life.

The curious thing about dreaming big is that it isn't always an authentic representation of one's truest self.  Usually it is a hybrid of something that interests us, combined with a culturally praised expression of greatness, and finally dressed up in the most successful version we can imagine.  Rarely does the real-life version of what we are pursuing actually end up looking like we thought it would.  We do not factor in the costs, limitations, or downsides of such pursuits.  And the world will always try to push us toward what is convenient and easy and readily available.  The world entices us with promises of blissful fulfillment yet serves up a soul-killing reality that measures worth by impossible standards.  Pursuing goals is noble, but sometimes we get crushed in the process.  If there isn't something holy within it, it can become an empty existence we didn't bargain for.

While one's vocation can be considered a profession, a trade, or occupation,  it is also a calling, the will to work towards something.  The word "vocation" comes from the Latin "vocare" which means "to call." In my life, vocation is a power word.  Embedded within its syllables are hidden dialogues between the soul and God.   It is a Holy conversation:  One is issuing a call, an invitation to invest in a direction of meaning; one is hearing and answering, turning every intention and action toward that direction.  The whole world is waiting for us answer these Divine questions.  Furthermore, vocation is not just  limited to the ministry journey.  It is that bold adventure of living into the unique direction of meaning God invites the individual soul to.  Even as there are many people reflecting the image of God in their own one-of-a-kind ways, there are many varied callings.  We all are designed for meaning making.

God's invitations have surprised me, to say the least.  Today I am a pastor, but the congregation I serve is far different from what I ever imagined it would be.  I work in a preschool as a teacher.  I lead chapel services for preschoolers.  I lead worship, I preach, I teach, and every single person I serve comes up to my waist.  I have every credential and training that my ministry peers enjoy, and yet God's direction has brought me to a very different destination.

If vocation isn't about having the right paycheck, the right job description, the right job title, what exactly is its importance?  If I missed the boat for my chosen career, or my life took some unexpected turns, does that mean that my vocation dies with my dreams?

I am learning that vocation has less to do with a destination and every thing to do with a way of doing life.  God has shaped my heart and my experiences and my gifts and graces in a particular direction.  I live as a pastor, whether I do it at home, in the classroom, or surrounded by the exuberance of worshiping toddlers.  My heart is shaped like a shepherd; shepherding is what I do regardless of where I'm at or who I'm with.  I don't have to be in a church to do it.  It is the stuff of who I am, who I have become as I have answered the Divine question.  And if my life were to change unexpectedly once again, I would take this seasoned self and live out my vocation in another place.  The container can change, the heart of this life-work remains the same.

Most days I sit back in wonder as I consider God's wisdom in placing me where I am, doing what I am doing.  Our small, religious, part-time preschool setting is such a beautiful outlet for the creative parts of me, and such a safe haven for the exquisitely sensitive parts of me.  It is a good fit for the compassionate parts of me, and a great match for the silly parts of me.  When I consider the destinations I would have chosen for my vocation, none of them would  have been the outlet, the haven, the fit, or the match that this place is.  I landed well.  Perhaps not according to the dream big philosophy.  But in holy and whole ways, I landed where I most needed to be.

I couldn't have done this or become this without help.  At the time God directed me to this place it felt more like a mistake, so far out of my ideas of what fit.  But this perfection of vocation stirs me every morning as I greet the day, new mercies washing over my silly expectations.  This weekend I was asked to bring the message for a congregation's celebration of their United Methodist Women.  As I spoke about God's calling for our lives I shared what I have learned:  When God issues the invitation of vocation God calculates into this equation the power and presence of His resurrected Son.  It is only through the grace of Jesus that I have been able to let big dreams die so that better ones could come forth.  It is only through His vision that I could see my life anew, as something worthy and beautiful.  It is only through His gentle love that I could love the life I found and offer others the Love that has found me.

A friend of mine and I were speaking of this one day, comparing notes on dreams that didn't pan out.  This is what we discovered:  We didn't end up where we thought we would, but we did end up where we belong.