Called?

These past two years, I have felt very strongly that God has called me to study and to write, and I have done my best to answer that call. But along the way I’ve had to face tough questions. What, exactly, does it mean to be called to do something? How do I know I’m responding to God’s will?

It is difficult to put words to what I’ve learned in the past two years. The one thing I can clearly draw out of my experiences is that being called to something doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy. But how do you know it’s a real call? I can only point to my experiences and say “For me, this was how I knew.”

A year ago, I wrote about the experience of feeling called to go to seminary, and the fears that I had about answering that call. What if I failed? What if God asked more of me than I felt able to give? I chose to take the step into the unknown of beginning graduate study. Now, a year later, I can look back and see that the experience of feeling called to do something – in this case, to study – is more complex than I expected.

When I started my classes last year, I thought that discernment of my choice had been the hard part, and now the path, albeit leading into the unknown, would at least be straighter.

Hah!

What I thought would be success – wasn’t. And the things that looked like failure – weren’t.

What did I think success would look like? How about a 4.0 GPA? I got that. But along the way, I realized that my attitude toward academic success was more me-focused than God-focused. Those good grades were worthless, because I was working to impress others, not to learn what God wanted me to learn.

I also thought “success” meant being able to do everything. That spring, I took a full load of classes (with ten hours of commuting a week) in addition to working a demanding full-time job and fencing competitively. My friends, to their credit, told me this was madness. I blithely ignored them, because I Could Do It. Well, I hit the wall. I was exhausted all the time. I had no time for a cup of coffee with a friend; no energy to enjoy my fencing; no patience for fellowship at church. I began to question what my priorities were – and what they should be.

I struggled with disappointment in my classes. Some of the material was interesting; much of it wasn’t. What I wanted to study wasn’t on the syllabus. At the same time, I began to question my choice of program. I was in a PhD track – but I already have a Ph.D. Why did I think I needed another one? Slowly, I realized that this goal didn’t feel right.

What did feel right, though, was my work in the classroom. As I wrestled with questions of vocation, God was giving me a profound affirmation that my teaching is truly service to Him. I realized that my idea of getting another PhD came from my own pride. Right where I was, God had given me work to do that was peculiarly well suited to the gifts He had given me. There are plenty of Christian theologians, but not a lot of Christian English professors.

So if I wasn’t training to become a theologian, what, exactly, was I doing in seminary? I took the fall semester off to figure out what was going on.

One thing I concluded was that the program I was in was a bad fit. I didn’t want to pursue a PhD any more; I wasn’t going to become a pastor; and my maturing doctrinal views were increasingly at odds with the theological liberalism I was finding in the program. I chose to withdraw.

What did that mean about my call to further study? Had I been mistaken – was it not a real call?

Two years ago, I had asked a priest how I could tell if I were being called to do something. He told me to consider three questions: Is the call exciting? Does it make full use of your gifts? And does it not go away, even when you try to set it aside? Only a real call would get a “yes” on all three. It was a guideline, not a guarantee, but it had helped me recognize that writing was a real call for me.

This past year, I added one new question to the list. I asked my pastor how to distinguish between a genuine call and my own, perhaps wrong, inclination. He told me to ask: Does following this call conform to God’s will as revealed in Holy Scripture? As I thought about it more, I realized what a difference that makes. How does one sharpen a vague sense of calling? Not by testing against what our secular culture expects or encourages, but by testing it against that sharp-edged sword that is the Word.

Now I was considering whether I was really called to further study. Did my not-so-wonderful graduate school experience meant that I was on the wrong track entirely?

I went back to those questions. Further study was exciting – in fact, I was continuing to study on my own. I knew that God had given me a fine mind and the will to use it, and that I could excel in academic work; I also saw that my further study could dovetail with my writing and my teaching, allowing me to write and speak effectively and confidently in defense of the truth. And lastly… the call hadn’t gone away. Through a frustrating year and a lot of questioning, I felt drawn more strongly than ever to study.

But how did that frustrating spring and summer fit into the experience of being called? Had it just been a waste of time? No. I realized that God had used that year to teach me – just not what I expected to learn.

For one thing, my sense of this call became more focused. Partly by contrast with the other subjects I was studying, I realized that my real interest was in apologetics. I also got a powerful affirmation that God was going to use my writing in His work: in the fall, as I was working on discerning the next step, I signed a contract for my first book.

As I reviewed my options for graduate study, a program jumped out at me: a highly regarded Christian Apologetics program, available in an online form that would allow me to keep a healthy balance with my relationships, ministry, work, and recreation. The previous year, I had briefly considered it, but somehow felt that it wasn’t the right avenue. This time I realized it was a perfect fit, and my pastors concurred.

When I wrote the application essays, I realized how necessary the previous year had been. As I had struggled with some of the ideas and views presented in my classes, I brought my questions to my pastors. The resulting discussions, and my further reading, helped give me a firmer foundation in conservative, orthodox Christian thought. In retrospect, I wouldn’t have had a chance at being accepted into the new program without that additional year of study.

Admission was by no means a sure thing. My knowledge of evangelical doctrine was thin in a few areas, so in parts of my application I wrote that I didn’t have a view one way or the other on some doctrinal points. Not good enough! The admissions counselor went out of his way to work with me, letting me know where I needed to clarify my position; I embarked on focused study of those areas, writing up additions to my admissions statements. I sent all my materials in – and waited.

When the phone call came in with their response, it was: No.

Something rose up in me to not let go. What was the reason, I asked? I learned that in just one area they felt I was too weak to be admitted. But I’d been continuing my reading and studying over the Christmas break – I was more advanced in my study than I’d been even a month before. I asked if I could write one more statement, articulating what I had learned. The counselor said to give it a try – though he couldn’t promise that they’d even re-open my file.

If this was not the right place for me to be, God would close the door – but it wasn’t quite closed yet. I sensed that this was a challenge for me – to swallow my pride and ask to be re-considered, rather than pridefully saying “Fine! Have it your way!” Even in the face of rejection, I still felt that this program was the right place for me… and one of God’s gifts to me is the quality of perseverance. So I wrote up my last statement, and sent it in, and put the results in God’s hands.

The very next day, I got my answer.

I was admitted to the program – at the eleventh hour, so to speak: registration for classes had already begun when I got the call, and I had to fax in my acceptance letter because there was no time for me to mail it in. Now, as I write this, I am in the middle of classes and having a wonderful experience.

So: I could sum up the last two years by saying “God has called me to study apologetics, and here I am!”

And yet – I resist letting it sound simple. I don’t want to imply that I got a memo from on high and it was all smooth sailing from there. I didn’t, and it wasn’t. Yet on the other hand, He did show me – the pressure that didn’t go away, the hunger to do more, the will to persevere – from where did these things come, if not from Him?

Maybe if I had a deeper relationship with Jesus – that relationship that I want so much, and yet I know I have only begun to enter into – then it would have been as simple as asking for direction and getting it. Or maybe not. My pastor has said that God keeps him on a need-to-know basis, and I suspect that He does the same with me. If sometimes I feel like I am muddling along, it forces me to rely more on God; if I don’t know where I’m going, it forces me to get on my knees and ask for guidance, day by day.

It has been an interesting year.

What has it been like to be called to further study? I am like a stubborn vine that keeps growing in the wrong direction and has to get pruned back into the right shape – and that by that pruning, God ensures that I will bear more fruit for Him. What might have seemed like a dead end – a disappointing program, an exhausting year – ended up being incredibly fruitful in terms of my own understanding of my vocation, and of the ways that God calls me to use my different gifts in balance.

What does it mean to be called? I don’t know for sure… but this is what is has meant for me – so far.

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