Christ and Our Callings, Part 4

Life makes life complicated.  As my wife once said, "Don't you hate it when life gets in the way of, you know, life?"  In case I'm being opaque, life's demands and responsibilities and limitations always seem to get in the way of the joys we want to pursue.  But what if instead of hindering us, these help us find freedom?

Back in November, Olivia gave birth to our second child, our daughter Margaret.  That means more bills, more childcare, more family needs--and of course more love and joy in our home too.  But nonetheless it has made us grapple with our priorities about time, money, and calling.

For years I've felt a growing unrest and dissatisfaction with being a public high school science teacher.  Along the way, a nagging Sehnsucht plagues me on and off.  Most recently, my desire to pursue graduate studies and a career in forest and wetland ecology has reached its zenith.  I started looking at graduate programs, such as this amazing one at Virginia Tech.  But the reality is that grad school would put us in debt and likely force us to relocate--all for a government job that would probably earn less money and give less vacation time than my current job.  As I considered my dreams of spending days outdoors, I realized that it was impractical, if not inaccessible.  I felt stuck--and glum.

Some days I still do.

But around new year's I had a revelation.  What if, instead of thinking about what job would be most enjoyable and satisfying, I rather looked at what my real priorities were in life, and chose a job that best supported those priorities?  My foremost calling is as a disciple of Christ and a member of his body, the church.  After that, I've made a lifelong pledge to become one flesh with my wife.  Third, I'm a father to my children.  Only after that am I a worker.  So what job would best enable me to fulfill the higher callings?  It makes little sense to have a fulfilling job at the expense of things that really matter more.  While teaching doesn't pay a whole lot here in Virginia, it does afford me nine weeks off in the summer--plenty of time with my family, if I'm not teaching summer school or picking up other work in the summer.  And I wouldn't need to go to grad school or relocate or place those other demands on my family.

It was suddenly freeing to think that way--like that gray raincloud over me was starting to lift. Instead of feeling stuck in a dead-end job, I began to feel more hopeful.  That this was where God really wanted me for now.  (Olivia would be quick to tell me that dead ends are only for people who are considering their lives without Christ in view.)   I still don't super love teaching.  That hasn't changed overnight.  But it gives me a little more hope that God will equip me to do a good job in it and to find days of happiness too.

Then I began also to consider my life under God's providence, his guiding hand.  Of all the people in the world who have no choice over their occupation and who've had no chance at an education, I was able not only to go to a university, but also to choose my own career path and land not one, but four jobs in my chosen profession.  That's a remarkable privilege that few in history have had.  If through all the choices I've had and doors God has opened, I have this job, then it certainly can't be a bad thing.  Maybe it's the best thing for me right now.

On top of that, having the job of your dreams certainly can't be essential to being fully alive, worshiping God and living out his image in the world.  After all, most people have to simply take whatever job they can find or learn whatever trade their family has been in for generations.  If it's not something attainable to all mankind, then it's not essential to life the way God wants us to live it.

(Sorry, no great conclusion here today!  But check out my earlier posts in this series: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.)

Christ and Our Callings, Part 3

As I think about my calling in life, I have to grapple with two things.  First, who's doing the calling?  Who is the one calling me?  It's not myself.  Callings cannot come from within.  (But how often we live as though they did!  We hark to Socrates's cry: "Know thyself!")  It is God who is calling me to belong to him and to live under his reign--the reign of his Son Jesus--in every breath.

But I also wrestle with the order or priority of my callings, of the roles and responsibilities I've been given.  Even if not chronologically derived, my foremost commitment is to my wife as her husband.  I've entered into a covenant with her to hold fast to her until death parts us.  Beyond that, I'm now a father.  Those are my primary callings.  Only after that am I a science teacher/coach/whatever.  I suppose a good glue holding all those other callings together is the call to be part of Christ's body (Romans 1:6-7).  Which just gets me back to the first calling in the first place.  (See "Christ and Our Callings, Part 1.")

In Philippians 3:12-16, Paul sets up a paradox that surrounds the Christian life.

¹² Not that I have already obtained this [becoming like Christ, vv. 10-11] or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. ¹³ Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, ¹⁴ I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. ¹⁵ Let those of us who are mature think this way, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you.¹⁶ Only let us hold true to what we have attained.

Paul somehow rests content in all that Christ is for him and all who is in Christ's hands.  "Christ Jesus has made me his own."  Because his righteousness is that of Jesus and comes through faith, not his perfection in good deeds or service (v. 9), he knows his life and identity are secure.  But at the same time, he knows Christ has grasped him for the sake of "the upward call of God."  As a result he presses upward, never resting on his laurels or living out of his past, but always pushing to enjoy and love and serve Jesus more and more.  

Still, Paul closes with an urge to "hold true to what we have attained."  That is, while we should strive to grow in our knowledge and service and ever press on in the Christian life, we should also make sure we're living faithfully within the callings and circumstances and knowledge we have at the present.

Christ and Our Callings, Part 2

Atop psychologist Abraham Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs sits "self-actualization."  This is said to be the greatest need of all humans.  Understood rightly, Maslow said self-actualization is really a person who gains increasing awareness of himself, the world, and his place in it; lives honestly and transparently; and has a sense of mission, duty, and responsibility to other humans.  Through this, a person lives beyond himself and finds a place of transcendence in the world.

I would argue that in our souls, deep within, all people know we have fallen from something great.  We suffer as much from original glory as we do from original sin.*  Not that our original, God-given glory was bad.  But sin has caused us to shrink away from God, others, nature--even our true selves--into the hollow recesses of our own deceitful self-honor and self-wisdom.  We climbed upon a tiny throne but away from everything else weighty and good.

The problem is, we often try to discover who we are or fix our resulting sense of loneliness and angst by taking on roles in life that we think will restore to us a sense of fulfillment and transcendence.  How easily I can do this with a job!  If only I got some recognition for my awesome "21st century skills"-based lessons.  If only someone thanked me for my high SOL pass rates.  If only Libbey would let me teach my new stoichiometry methods at the district inservice.  If only I could teach AP Biology and get some cred.  If only I could do more ecology field trips and get kids involved in nature's web hands-on.  If only the cross country team would win the district title.  Of course, this works the same way in "sanctified" callings within the church.  If only I could use my gifts to teach theology full-time.  If only I could read that John Stott book and learn more about the cross of Christ.  If only I could grow more competent in counseling others.  If only I could teach the church in [enter largely Muslim nation here].

But it's not a job or any supposed "calling" that is meant to fulfill our souls and give us real life; Jesus said we can find that only in knowing him.  "I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly" (John 10:10).  "And this is eternal life, that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent" (John 17:3).  What John calls "eternal life"--life without limits, in satisfying wholeness--is nothing other than coming to God through Jesus and being satisfied in him.

That's why Paul labored and strove at great cost to himself, not to discover through his jobs and callings more about himself or to "find himself," but to find and discover Jesus his Lord.

Christ and Our Callings, Part 1

I've invested ten of the past twelve years of my life into being a high school science teacher (five years of schooling plus five years of service).  In many ways, it's been wonderful.  Let's face it: how many people get to choose a career path, study for it, and then actually find continual employment in that exact role?  I have a stable job at a top-notch, innovative public high school, my students earn pretty good scores on the state benchmark tests, and I get to coach cross country as well.  On top of that, the pay is decent enough, the benefits are great, and I have a continuing contract.  Still, I often find myself looking out the window with a restless spirit, wondering what lies beyond being a science teacher.

For years now I've had a vision of serving the church in a country where sound theological education is needed, either where the church is small, dead, or has strayed from orthodoxy (e.g., Germany, France, Czech Republic), or in a nation where the evangelical church is young and persecuted (e.g., Turkey, North Africa).  I've never thought of this as a necessarily "higher" calling, but being able to devote myself to teaching God's Word just seems awesome.  After all, I already love studying the Bible and getting chances in the local church to lead studies and teaching.

But when I look at my passions and gifts and wonder about my "calling" in life, I find myself face-to-face with the question, "Who am I?"  It's really a question that shapes all our pursuits in life.

God's answer to the question of my calling is the same answer he gives to my identity: I am "called to belong to Jesus Christ" and I am among those "in Rome loved by God and called to be saints" (Romans 1:6, 7).  Now of course I'm not in Rome proper, but I have a city, a concrete location and context in which to live my life as a saint, that is, a justified sinner possessed by Jesus Christ.  It is this identity as one belonging to Jesus that shapes and defines the "calling" of all Christians.

Gospel Hope for Work (and Home)

On Tuesday Glen Allen High School opened its doors to students. A new academic year had begun. While on one hand I was pretty excited to see all the new faces and ponder what the next ten months will be like, as usual I also had a lot of anxieties about the upcoming year, especially in such a high-expectations environment as a brand new, tech-savvy, innovative school.

But by God's grace I realized that each day's success is not based on whether I garner my administrators' approval, or if my students have high grades and do well in the Virginia Academy of Science, or if I'm integrating enough technology and "21st-century skills," or if my lessons are really interesting and engaging to wide variety of students, or if the cross country team does well. In God's eyes success comes from whether or not I worshiped him in all I did (1 Cor. 10:31). Did I perform my job to the best of my effort and know-how (Col. 3:23)? Did I use my time, abilities, and opportunities to serve and strengthen others (1 Pet. 4:9-11)? Did I treat students with gentleness, patience, and understanding when I could've otherwise been strict, harsh, and demanding (Phil. 4:5; James 3:17)? Did I turn to the Lord in prayer during frustrating, perplexing moments (Phil. 4:6-7)? Did I look for reasons to rejoice in my students and circumstances instead of dwelling on negatives (Phil. 4:8-13)? Did I die to my desires and rights so that I could help others (Phil. 2:3-11)? Did I trust God's presence and his promises that he is, and that he is in control (Isa. 26:3; John 16:33)? Did I step out in faith at the Spirit's leading and share a spiritual lesson or speak about God's holiness, justice, and grace in Christ (Eph. 6:19-20; Col. 4:2-6). Did I live for God's approval rather than my colleagues' (Gal. 1:10; 1 Sam. 16:7)?

To the extent that I do these things, every day is a success, because God's purpose for me is to form Christ in me (Rom. 8:28-30). I know that the list above in many ways this sounds like an unrealistic burden. And we could look at it simply as that--a burden of God's desires and demands under the law. But the good news for me and for all of us, I believe, is that in Christ we are forgiven of all our sins and failures. And through him God has also given us his Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Christ himself alive and active within our hearts and minds to "will and to work for [God's] good pleasure" (Phil. 2:13). The watching world of my students, bosses, parents, and colleagues may not see it--all this is foolishness in a world of performance-based righteousness and earned love--but the Lord does not see as man sees; he looks at our hearts, which he possesses and is working to renew (1 Sam. 16:7).

Q: What is the chief end of man?
A: Man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever.
(Westminster Shorter Catechism, Q & A 1)

If I love, worship, and glorify God, I've met my telos, my goal. And even when circumstances are tough and comforts flee, I have this sure and solid comfort in life and in death: "That I am not my own, but belong--body and soul, in life and in death--to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ. . . . Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him" (Heidelberg Catechism, Q & A 1).

Dissatisfied with the Sabbath

Just imagine Mick Jagger belting out, "I ain't got no (dah-dah-dah) satisfaction!"

Today at church (WEPC again) the pastor taught about Hebrews 6:13-20 and the absolute confidence we can have in God's promises. The absolutely sovereign King of the universe, whose will shall never be thwarted, has not only given us his word of promise that was first pledged to Abraham, but he has backed it up by a self-maledictory oath, "two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie" (see Genesis 15). But what it is that he has promised, and what we personally hope for, may be two different things.

As the weeks of school progress--my fifth week commences tomorrow--I've found myself each week seemingly further inundated with take-home planning and grading that eats into my weekend. It was my original desire to get as much done on Saturdays as I could, so that Sundays could truly be a Sabbath rest, a day off given solely to worship corporate and private, reading, and the recreational pursuits I enjoy, such as nature walking, running, and photography. But now I find myself with about three more hours of work yet today. Blech. This is something I really need to work on; Saturdays offer so much to enjoy, namely, cookouts and MSU football.

I have been able to do a lot of enjoyable things with my weekends this fall, don't get me wrong. But there's something that just feels lacking about the whole notion of a weekend and a Sabbath. Each week I eagerly await the two days when I get to relax a bit and not have to deal with failing teenagers who, no matter how much structure and coaching I provide, DO NOT EVER DO THEIR HOMEWORK! Every Sunday evening, the shadow looms of another week of poor student progress, of the difficulties of planning good lessons that include fore-thoughtful classroom management and diverse instructional strategies, and of the sixty-odd hours of work I bang out each week. I never feel wholly rested, never fully eager to tackle what challenges the next day will bring.

But maybe that's how it's supposed to be. Maybe we're not supposed to be satisfied even with the beautiful rest of the Sabbath and the joys of corporate worship of the risen Lord in church. The writer of the epistle to the Hebrews urged his audience (Jewish converts in Rome?) to remember that the present Sabbath-rest was not the fulfillment, was not the Best that God had to offer. It wasn't about entering the Promised Land of Canaan. It wasn't about their freedom from creative labor one day out of seven. There was rather a greater "Sabbath rest" for the people of God to look ahead to (Hebrews 4:1-13). And this rest is still ours for the taking, offered by grace, received by faith alone, and secured by the sure and steadfast Anchor, Jesus Christ our forerunner (6:19-20).

The fulfillment of our final rest is still in the future. God does not promise to us complete joy, satisfaction, and rest in these present days of our lives. Perhaps that longing for more fun, more refreshing sleep (perhaps I should get a real bed and stop sleeping on an air mattress), and more satisfaction with my life and labor is not a deficiency, but rather the echo God has put in our hearts of the true Hope to come in the fullness of God's kingdom. And this Hope that will come for all who are not satisfied with what this life offers but instead "desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one" (11:14).

Both near and far

Two blog posts in one day: that's what happens when I have a Sunday free and lots on my mind.

Yesterday was the first unofficial day of fall here in the Commonwealth. When I left to go running in the morning, the air had a new kind of coolness that I hadn't felt in a long time. (In fact, all I felt was stifling heat and humidity for weeks on end.) Underneath gray skies, as water droplets left from the overnight rain dripped onto me, I was actually a bit chilly for a few minutes. There's hope for this state yet.

You see, I love the fall season. It's hands-down the best. Sure, summer has baseball, long days, and green fields rich in corn and sugar beets--at least in Michigan. But fall has the cool, crisp air that invigorates my spirit. Pumpkins. Wheat fields gold for the harvest. The brilliant radiance of leaves losing their chlorophyll. The World Series. College football. Fall's got it all--and it's right on time.

But though I may be near to the best time of the year, I feel farther than ever from Istanbul, and I miss it a lot. In the words of my friend Leanne, "I miss Turkey so much my soul hurts!" Over the past week or two I have been constantly flipping through my photos from that now-distant land, listening to Turkish music, translating recipes and the Gospel of Mark into English, and adding Turkish touches to my meals (chickpeas, yogurt, olives).

Galata Tower and the Golden Horn at dusk

My crushing longing to be back there might simply be because, in two years' time there, life became familiar, doable. Sure, every day brought new excitements and challenges. But trying to stay afloat in this new world of high school teaching is wearisome. I feel right now like all I want to do is get back over there and find a job, any kind of job, and share the truth of Jesus with the multitudes who don't know him. I looked at my world-map shower curtain last night and thought to myself--or actually I probably said aloud to myself--"Just find a way to get me back, and I'll go! Now!"

But there's a lot of water that needs to pass under my proverbial bridge before that happens. I've only taught two weeks. Even a full school year is hardly enough time to evaluate my enjoyment of and confidence in performing such a job. I need a few years. Plus, my job will allow me to save up a little for any future calling in life, whether that be seminary and some sort of pastoral/teaching ministry or a graduate degree in environmental biology.

Rumeli Hisar and the Bosphorus

It's time to be patient and trust God for what's comes my way today, knowing that he will provide for me and direct my steps (Proverbs 3:5-6).