The other day, I was reading a biography of Fr. Isaac Hecker, founder of the Paulists, and it was describing the American challenge into which he was born: unlimited freedom of choice leading to a groundlessness — children weren’t expected to follow their parent’s career choices; people didn’t spend their whole lives in the same community and learn to live with and love their neighbors for better or worse; the authority of people and institutions was not recognized automatically. But what the American of 1850 saw as groundlessness would today seem stodgy and limited. Comparatively, we live in a world of almost complete lawlessness. This makes the desire for a sense of purpose — a sense that what you do fits into some grander scheme — all the more important, and all the more elusive.

I wrote here about discerning your calling almost two year ago, saying it was especially relevant in a period of economic transition and upheaval. Many of us are looking for purpose, and most wish they had more. The Purpose Driven Life is the longest-running bestseller of all time. In spiritual counseling and in talking with friends, again and again I hear people struggle with questions of direction and purpose.

Two of Christine Whelan’s recent columns have tackled the issue of how singleness is not recognized as a vocation. It got me thinking about why people get so upset about this? I think some bristle at being “denied” vocation status because they feel this denies their life of a purpose.

What would you do if nothing else (obligations, money, etc.) mattered? Many exercises take only minutes and may reveal profound things about your life’s path. (See the tips in this column and this one for some ... Continue reading What Works: Discerning Your Calling]]>

The other day, I was reading a biography of Fr. Isaac Hecker, founder of the Paulists, and it was describing the American challenge into which he was born: unlimited freedom of choice leading to a groundlessness — children weren’t expected to follow their parent’s career choices; people didn’t spend their whole lives in the same community and learn to live with and love their neighbors for better or worse; the authority of people and institutions was not recognized automatically. But what the American of 1850 saw as groundlessness would today seem stodgy and limited. Comparatively, we live in a world of almost complete lawlessness. This makes the desire for a sense of purpose — a sense that what you do fits into some grander scheme — all the more important, and all the more elusive.

I wrote here about discerning your calling almost two year ago, saying it was especially relevant in a period of economic transition and upheaval. Many of us are looking for purpose, and most wish they had more. The Purpose Driven Life is the longest-running bestseller of all time. In spiritual counseling and in talking with friends, again and again I hear people struggle with questions of direction and purpose.

Two of Christine Whelan’s recent columns have tackled the issue of how singleness is not recognized as a vocation. It got me thinking about why people get so upset about this? I think some bristle at being “denied” vocation status because they feel this denies their life of a purpose.

1. What would you do if nothing else (obligations, money, etc.) mattered? Many exercises take only minutes and may reveal profound things about your life’s path. (See the tips in this column and this one for some ideas.)

2. Spend less time trying to figure things out, more time sitting with what you know. Resist the temptation to plan your future to the letter — to figure this thing out — or to decide your calling must be what you’re good at doing. The focus here is on how you feel about choices, not factual details. This is critical.

3. Seek spiritual direction. My own discernment process about calling and work has been supported and deepened by my ongoing dialogue with a spiritual director. While God’s calling already existed in my heart, and while I had already done some solid discernment work built on a base of prayer and meditation, it was Fr. Gerry’s counsel that helped me break past fear and surrender to what I already knew was right.

4. Pray for God’s guidance, not rescue. I’m not saying you shouldn’t pray for relief, but focus on praying for the willingness and strength to accept what comes and make the best of it. Perhaps no prayer is more perfectly suited for this than the Serenity Prayer, attributed to Reinhold Niebuhr: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”

Calling all cars

A little about terminology before I go any further: Vocation is just from the Latin for calling, though the secular term in uses such as “vocational school” has lost almost all its original meaning. (Avocation comes from the Latin for “call away” — in other words, it is a side-interest or distraction from your calling.) The word “career,” on the other hand, has a very different meaning. “Career” comes from the same root as “car” and literally means not the path to which you are called but rather the one you choose to take, or more accurately and even more meaningfully, the vehicle in which you follow that path — in other words, the way you follow the path.

Career and calling can be the same if you discern and choose to follow the path you’re called to. But you can also find yourself on other paths, by happenstance or by a choice — conscious or not. While sometimes people avoid their calling, a lot of the time they just haven’t discerned it.

Sometimes people walk right onto their calling’s path without a second thought. I’ve always envied those people who knew in high school what they wanted to do and made choices to prepare themselves, never looking back. (At least that’s how I imagine it. Most likely, they struggled more than that.)

Other times, a calling seems to be shouting its message even while a person is unaware. Take my own example. My father assumed I would follow his footsteps as an intellectual and mathematician, and from an early age I was told this was true about me and guided towards this goal. And I am good at math and reason, which confused the issue. But the greatest delight I achieved in elementary school class work, and one of my few distinct memories from that period, was getting an A for an original short story. At age 15, despite a heavy load at a specialized math and science high school and an equally heavy extracurricular load of hanging out and partying with friends, I joined a poetry writing group and devoted much of my spare time to writing and studying the work of others. My first and second “real” jobs involved technology and statistical analysis, but with my third, I moved into writing about technology. Since then, though I haven’t always worked as a writer and editor, I have always thought of that as my career.

For some, the calling is not as obvious as mine. And callings aren’t always about what you do to earn a living. We usually think of artists, doctors, priests, teachers. But craftspeople of all sorts can be called to their work. And being a parent clearly can be a calling. Still others don’t have a stark calling but can find plenty of purpose in being useful in many little ways.

Nevertheless, in helping people find their calling, I struggle with a paradox. So I’ll just lay it out for you. One the one hand, it is extremely valuable and useful to do what you can to discern your calling. Doing something as a career that feels right and rewards you spiritually is wonderful. But on the other hand and at the same time, if you need certain things in your external life to be true in order to feel happy and content internally, you will suffer. Because those external things won’t always work out how you want them to. This is one of the basic spiritual truths.

So my challenge to you is not to find your calling now, not to find a single calling that will last your lifetime, but if you are not working at your calling, I hope you feel a little restless because of that. And I hope that restlessness gives you the push to do some serious discernment work, alone and with a spiritual director or other advisor. Remember that you can be happy now, before you pursue your calling or even if you never do, but don’t be afraid of the “what-ifs” and the “in-onlys,” as Margaret Silf calls them. Ask yourself the hard questions and look for signs that a calling has been trying to emerge. Be willing to face the truth. In the sidebar are a few tips for this process, borrowed from that column two years ago. And share your struggles and successes below in comments. My prayers are with you.

I've been taken aback these last few weeks by all the retrospectives and their universal declaration that the "aughts" were an awful decade. Objectively, it's hard to argue as they trot out disaster after disaster, setback after setback. And when pressed, I recall that as the decade began I had a six-figure salary at a high-flying dot-com, millions to come with the genuinely likely public offering, and a beautiful girlfriend. I had none of those things within a few years. But I need to be reminded of the losses and setbacks and derailed career, because my perception of the story line of the decade is entirely different. For me the aughts weren't awful; they were awesome.

You see, for me the key events of the decade are: reclaiming my sobriety, my conversion and baptism, and feeling and answering the call to return to writing, with a new focus on spiritual work. The past decade has in many ways been the most joyous of my life. It has been a period of spiritual growth, of expanding community, and of a radically increased sense of usefulness and purpose.

There's an obvious connection here. As I said in my column, "Losing your footing and finding the ground", losing the material things that define our lives can shake us into adjusting our focus, our priorities.

But mine is not a neat and tidy conversion story of: "My life was pointless and painful, then I found God, and now everything is rosy." For me, the life stripped away by the dot-com bubble burst and 9/11 did matter and, in many ways, was good. I looked forward to going to work every morning and figuring out how to bring more music into people's lives. My work was both creative and challenging. I lost a good thing. And the same was certainly true of my relationship.