I have been doing some reading in psychology lately and I was reminded of the pragmatic truth (and perhaps philosophical as well) that there is no reality, only perception.
Put another way, we write our own stories as we can tell the stories of our lives by overlaying these details with the deep meaning of our profound experiences.
I found myself telling a priest recently that my job-hunting process was yielding such fruitful results, even as I have not yet come across the right fit yet. I realize that the factual incidents that brought me here could be seen as data - or they could be seen, and are best seen, as part of a story.
My story, like your story, is still being written. If you are like me, your story is one in which you have unintentionally made wrong turns, done embarrassing things out of ignorance, and remained blind to the very plain truth always in front of you.
I talked a bit with a close friend the other day about these times where I have been very human and made many mistakes. I used the analogy of feeling like I had missed the train - made mistakes and otherwise screwed up opportunities - all the while being aware of the ticking clock of life that says that one does not have forever to wait around for the next one.
My friend offered that if you miss the train, there is a bus following behind that will take you on a different route, but you'll end up in about the same place. He also reminded me that God's watchfulness and guidance hovers over us like a cloud, even if we mistakenly (or intentionally, for that matter) run out from underneath it through our own ignorance.
And should we do this again and again, this loving cloud always quickly reroutes itself to cover us again.
This type of concrete guidance makes the difficult struggle of job hunting and discernment not easy, but worth it.
Perhaps the best part of the process has been my meetings with many clergy of a variety of denominations, listening to their stories and the stories of their churches here in the Puget Sound area. I have been energized by many of them and what they are doing. More than this, I have been captivated by their own stories of their call to ministry and how these came about - how they made these choices to serve the Church in a full-time, professional way, and how they took this call seriously.
In this search, I also happened by a helpful website from the vocations office of the Catholic Archdiocese of Seattle, that outlined a few "signs of a call". (Obviously to an exclusively male, celibate, Catholic priesthood, but still very much useful.) One question I found very piercing was this: "If those who are called don’t respond, how will our faithful people receive the Eucharist in the future?"
One could substitute Eucharist with just about any type of ministry to which one can be called.
I am reminded in this question of Romans Chapter 10 . . . How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching? And how are they to preach unless they are sent?
I am reminded in this question of Romans Chapter 10 . . . How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching? And how are they to preach unless they are sent?
Every now and then, one has the opportunity to meet an individual who not only has answered God's call, but who is deeply gifted with a surprising ability to see and tell forth. I had the rare good fortune to encounter this type of pastor today. I've only met a handful of these, but it seems like when I do, they have very important truths to share.
He told his story, and, with different language but familiar ideas, spoke of the sense of not just internal call, but the external call that culminates in ordination, bringing conclusion to the discernment process.
And then this pastor listened a bit more to my story, and then held up the mirror.
A friend of mine tells me that priests are those who hold up the mirror and gently ask you to look deeply into it to see yourself as you truly are . . . and, I would think, to also see the potentials of who you might be in Christ.
As I tell my story, and others listen to my story, I feel as though I am beginning to hear what that story is saying more and more clearly each time I share it.
And as the mirror is held up to me, I pray for courage.