How do we hear His call?

By the weekend the 5:45 workshop options had multiplied. I chose “God at work in us: how do we hear His call?” and found myself in a large room filled almost entirely with twenty-somethings. Was the question of vocation simply more relevant to the young, or was it that older people had stopped asking questions they didn’t want the answer to— or maybe felt they already had. The idea of calling was profoundly important to me. I had read Parker Palmer’s book Let your Life Speak many times— even led a retreat based on the material— and was now eager to hear what a brother from Taize would add to my growing understanding.

He was late. And when he did finally arrive, he seemed unprepared. He had the jittery, showy energy of a street mime, making fun of the title of the workshop, I suppose as a way of endearing himself to the young people. I tried to remind myself that the brothers were there, first and foremost, to live our their vows to Christ and the community, and second, to reach the young. Whether or not I liked him was of absolutely no consequence. Still, there were two things I remember well from that hour:

First, the Brother referred us to Matthew 19:17, the story of the wealthy man who feels he’s done everything right, has kept all the commandments, and now wants Jesus’s assurance that he will have eternal life. “If you want to be perfect,” Jesus says to him, “go, sell your belongings and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” (Matthew 19:21) Part of the Brother’s point in recounting this story was to show how the man, who had approached Jesus with the term “good teacher,” was not being sincere. He was trying to use earthly ways, such as flattery, to sway him. The second point was that the wealthy man claimed with confidence that he had kept all the commandments, an unlikely claim, and one that would not be for him to judge— again, arrogance where there should have been humility.

But I think the most essential point was the question of whether or not the man really felt he was being “called’ to the next level of commitment, or if he were simply looking for a blanket “no, you’re good, you’re great” that would cover him for the rest of his days. What opened up to me as the Brother spoke was this: If the desire to know the answer was sincere and had been planted in the wealthy man’s heart by God, then the man would not have had any trouble accepting Jesus’s invitation. Even though he had great wealth, that would pale in value to the opportunity to live out his personal calling.

“Most of us,” he said, “Think our Call is supposed to be big and flashy and long-suffering, but that is not the case.”

He went onto tell a story of how he had been doing service work at an orphanage in India and there had been a young Westerner there volunteering. It was clear that he was miserable. He didn’t like the Indian people, or the food or the flies; he didn’t seem to have any gift for working with children, or for tolerating discomfort of any kind. Most of his summer was spent griping to whomever would listen. When the Brother suggested to him that he really shouldn’t be there, the young man said, “But isn’t this what we’re supposed to do? Help the poor?”

It was a valid question, and it reflects a mistake a lot of us make. I frequently feel that if I were really, really committed, I would been in that orphanage with him, doing the hard, messy, selfless, service work. But I would likely be as unhappy as he was, because there is nothing in me that points in that direction. None of my gifts, none of my life experience, none of the things that give me joy. Trying to live out someone else’s vocation— no matter how cool or impressive it sounds— doesn’t honor God, or the individual.

Here’s what the Brother suggested: If you want to practice serving the poor, start small. Help your poor mother with the dishes. Help your poor father with the yardwork. Help your poor neighbor with the kids when they seem overwhelmed. Start there and see what grows. This is how your ears will become better attuned to God.