Callings & Convictions

Are we following God's calling or are we following our own convictions?

Throughout the past several years, I have heard numerous religious people make bold claims about what they believe God has “called” them to do. Throughout human history there have been countless individuals from various faith traditions who were utterly convinced that they heard a direct word from the Creator of the Universe that commanded them to perform a particular action. All of this sounds inspiring until it hits close to home and you start hearing conflicting reports between two well intentioned people who both claim that God has spoken to them.

I have grown skeptical of such claims. I now realize that humans can’t help but be somewhat subjective when it comes to interpreting an objective fact. Just because a person claims that they heard from God doesn’t mean that what they are claiming is true. This is why it is so difficult to trust people who make bold claims of divine sanction and absolute authority.

Sometimes, I think people use the phrases “God told me” and/or “God called me” as the ultimate trump cards to simultaneously silence their critics and stamp divine authority onto their viewpoints. In fact, it makes my skin crawl when I hear phrases like this. I have said similar things before and I regret having done so, but because this irritates me so, I have stopped making such claims. There are many psychological factors that influence our perception of things.

Oftentimes, I think our perceptions are determined when we see what we were already looking for, instead of seeing what is really there. Here, I recall serving on a jury last Fall when the prosecutor challenged us with a test of our observation skills. He asked us to take one minute to look around the courtroom and to memorize as many red-colored objects as we could. A minute later he asked us to close our eyes and keep them closed as we told him about all the red-colored objects we saw. We mentioned dozens of objects including the ear-rings of one juror, the slender second-hand on the courtroom clock, and the fire alarm in the back of the room. We felt secure that we were keen observers. Our eyes were still shut when he asked us if we could recall any objects that were blue. We sat in silence with our closed eyes racking our memories for images of blue objects. After an extended period of awkward silence, the prosecutor asked us to open our eyes. We were shocked at how many blue objects we failed to notice even though many of them were right in front of our faces. That exercise reinforced my belief that we often see what we want to see. We are all guilty of this.

I have been in conversations where a group of people are trying to make a controversial decision. Many of us want to make wise decisions and so we trust the counsel of those we respect. These might be our friends, our families, our elders, our favorite authors, our heroes or those who agree with us.

I have found that in some cases, people won’t trust you unless you can make a claim that God gave you the stamp of approval. Such claims of authority give power to words that would otherwise have fallen on deaf ears. You probably won’t gain much of a hearing if say, “Hello, I have some ideas and opinions I wanted to share with you based on what I’ve read and experienced.” People who use phrases like that just don’t command attention and authority like the special person who can say, “Behold, God came to me in a vision and told me to tell you this!” and end it with a “…Thus saith the Lord!”

A classmate of mine recently told me about a young lady who attended our seminary who also grew skeptical of all the “God told me” talk. During the years she was working on her Master’s of Divinity she had brief courtships with four different gentlemen who each told her that God told them to marry her. Needless to say, she didn’t marry any of them. Put off by their comments and the implications of what their comments said about the nature of God, truth, and revelation…she grew skeptical and eventually stopped believing in this kind of God altogether.

This kind of “God told me” talk, while meaningful for many, has begun to sound like madness to me. We can’t be careless with our words and I hope that I am not being careless with mine.

I have come to believe that while many of us act off of claims of having a divine calling, I believe our actions are driven by the fact we have a human conviction. We may have a conviction about what our experience has led us to believe is right or pleasing to God, but this does not mean that God called us to do anything.

I wonder if it is less of an issue of God “calling” us to do something and more of an issue that we want to do something that we believe is important. Is it really just a matter of making a commitment in response to what we perceive as the needs of the world? Some want to feed the starving masses. Others want to save souls. Others will seek to defend the oppressed. Others will seek to liberate others through education.

Is it a coincidence that those who have seen the suffering of starving children often go into a life of humanitarian aid while those who think the world is dark and fallen and in need of a savior consider “soul-saving” to be the highest priority?

I have several friends who have accepted their “call” into the pastoral ministry. They tell me that they went into the ministry because they had a heart for "lost souls." I believe that they are passionate about what they believe. These are some of the most loving guys I’ve ever met. But I can't help but wonder if they are responding to a divine calling or if they are operating out of their own convictions as to what they should commit their lives to.

Ultimately, while I still remain skeptical of the “God told me” talk, I think that people who truly believe that God communicated a particular message directly to them should instead say “I believe God told me” something. I’ve heard it said recently, “Be careful about telling people what God said, because someone might believe you.”

I look at myself and realize that, for better or for worse, I am driven mostly by my personal convictions. One of my convictions is the idea that oftentimes the callings that we really need to respond to are as simple as the voiced needs of our neighbors.

"Must I write?" (A question to ask myself)

This afternoon I stopped by a local coffee house on my lunch break and ran into Casey, a local artist I regularly see around my city. He is also an entreprenuer. He talked to me about how he decided to go into business for himself in ways that could support his family (wife and two children) and fulfill what he feels is his "calling." I told him how much I admired such commitment. We talked for awhile and he told me about the times when things get tough and how one has to just push through them with faith, creativity, and determination. The conversation left me with hope and the knowledge that I had some "soul-searching" to do and some commitments to make.

Call it confirmation, but later this afternoon, I paid a visit to the website of another local artist I admire. On his website he wrote a journal entry about his recent decision to live intentionally and focus exclusively on producing music which means that he would also be forced to let go of a majority of other commitments he had picked up in recent years. In his journal entry he cited a passage from the writings of Ranier Maria Rilke that had a profound impact on his thinking during this transitional phase of his life. Rilke's words also resonated with me as I go through my own risky period of transition and growth.

Yes, quiet time is needed to figure these things out.
Yes, risks are involved in such decisions.
Yes, we must listen to that voice deep within us.
Yes, we must find an answer and build our lives around it.

Ranier Maria Rilke writes,

"This above all-ask yourself
in the stillest hour of the night: must I write?
Delve yourself for a deep answer.
And if this should be affirmative,
if you may meet this earnest question
with a strong and simple "I must,"
then build your life according to this necessity;
your life even into its most indifferent and slightest hour
must be a sign of this urge, and a testimony to it.
Then draw near to Nature.
Then try, like some first human being,
to say what you see and experience and love and lose."