What a mysterious thing. I have grappling with my calling as of late. Asking deep questions about what it means to be "called" to something or somewhere. When I left Mexico, I was almost certain that I was headed into a specific time of victory in my life. I had this feeling like, "This is my chance. I have learned more than I ever could have imagined. This is my chance to be the overcomer I have always wanted to be." I thought that was my calling.
But today sings a different tune. And I find myself compelled to find the reality hidden in its melodies. What do I really know about myself? What do I really know about my calling?
One thing I know. That I have been called to desperately hunger for God. To long, to seek, to desire Him beyond the possible, and trust in Him for impossible measures of His presence. I have been called to burn for Him. Before my petitions for His gifts, before my plans for His ministry, before my own ideas of the person He should mold me to be. And I am so very hungry. I have been set on fire, I feel it in my bones. I know it to be my unique calling.
But it doesn't speak to me in specifics. It doesn't tell me whether or not I should sign up for ten months in the pink house or move back to Mexico. It doesn't tell me whether or not I should pursue graphic design or go to seminary. And to be honest, these last four months in spiritual terms could best be described as a series of wrong turns and last minute cries for grace, not the triumphal parade that played out in my expectations. What is God trying to say?
I was so convinced that Fresno was it. That I could make a difference here. Because I love my family, I love my church, and I love the people of this city. I thought that was enough. That somehow an opportunity would emerge for me to serve, to grow, to contribute something more. Something out of what I had gained during those five months. But so far, it has been business as usual.
At first I was convinced it was because God was trying to teach me something about that first calling. About my first love. But can that be a life? Just loving God all day long, praying all day long, worshiping all day long, with absolutely no sense for where you are headed except for closer to Him? So many would say no. Just the idea of such an existence contradicts every American sensibility I have.
But all I want to do is be with Him.
So I come back to the question. What does it mean to be called? Tonight, it brings me peace to know that I don't have to have the answer to that question.
All I have to do is trust. And there is so much joy to be found in that understanding that I can so easily get lost in it and forget I was ever wondering about calling at all. I have been swept away by His love, who knows where I'm going?
