On Vocation

I'm working on another already-too-long blog post and I realized that it needs some context on how the Lutheran understanding of vocation differs from what seems to be the prevailing view.  So rather than try and fit it into the other post, I've decided to do it separately.

Let's start by looking at the way I think most people think about vocation.  The word for vocation comes from the Latin word vocare, which means 'to call,' so it's fair to associate vocation with calling.  The way I had always been taught to think of vocation was as something akin to my life's grand purpose, the one thing that all else in my life should help me accomplish.  This could be something like owning a business, making a better life for my children, becoming involved in missions work, etc.  In a Christian context, it is the one big thing to which God is calling you, and only you.  A very large part of the talk about vocation while I was at Whitworth was focused on discerning our vocation; trying to figure out "where our greatest joy meets the world's greatest need."

While I don't think there is anything strictly wrong about this way of thinking about vocation, I do think it is incomplete.  Here's how Lutherans talk about vocation:

Lutherans tend to talk more about our many vocations than about one big overriding calling, and this can be confusing to someone who is used to thinking about vocation in the way described above.  In Lutheranism, our vocations are understood to be our roles in life.  So, to use myself as an example, some of my vocations are: husband, son, brother, friend, neighbor, blog writer, student, therapist, etc.  Because of my belief in the sovereignty of God, the very fact that I find myself in these roles tells me that God has called me to them.  This doesn't mean that vocation can't be understood to mean the "big" roles that we aspire to, but it isn't limited to that.  I, for example, have been following a call to pastoral ministry for nearly ten years now, and I certainly consider that to be my vocation, but it is only one of many, even if it is a very important one.

There's a couple advantages that I see to the Lutheran understanding of vocation over the prevailing view, and they both have to do with inclusivity.  First, this understanding of vocation includes all of our roles in life, which allows us to recognize God's call over the whole of our life, rather than in just one aspect.  Instead of being so consumed with preparing myself for some future grand purpose, I am called back into the present to do the work set out for me right now.

Second, this understanding of vocation includes everyone in a way that the prevailing view doesn't.  While speaking about the big thing you're going to do in the world may be entirely appropriate when speaking to a group of college students, many don't think of their lives this way.  Many people aren't going to have one overriding calling in their life that will be publicly acknowledged as such.  If we talk about vocation only as the one big thing we need to do, as the grand impact we're going to have on the world, then many will succumb to the myth that a life without a publicly recognizable achievement was a life not worth living.  If we only talk about some big capital "V" Vocation, then we imply that the mailman or the janitor are failing human beings or are somehow worth less than the CEO or the pastor or the politician.  Not only does talking this way devalue people in their professions, but within the church it puts pressure on people to "be better Christians" or some such nonsense by working for the church or going overseas instead of letting them focus on the place they are at, the place where God has put them.

Now I'm sure that my professors at Whitworth had the best intentions in talking about vocation in the way they did and, as I said earlier, it may have even been appropriate given the audience, but I think that a move to the understanding of vocation I have put forward would be beneficial for a lot of people.

What do you think?  Does this seem to cheapen the idea of vocation as you've understood it?  Enrich it?  Let me know in the comments.

A Pint And Theology?

The other day i was having a pint with one of my brothers at one of the local bars in town. He is well known there, and whenever he takes one of his brothers with him he tends to introduce us to all his regular friends (or acquaintances, to use his terms-he doesn't like to admit that he actually has friends). I have attended a few times and it seems to be that whenever i go i am drawn into conversation in some way about theology. Not out of my own doing, mind you. But someone will inquire about what i graduated in and once they learn i studied theology, off we go on an hour long tangent. From cracks against redheads, union worker griefs, and motorcycle intrigue to God, Jesus and the Bible (or whatever suits the regular's fancy). In some way it seems to seek me out, theology that is, and i don't mind it. It keeps my mind rolling which, many of my friends know, accumulates quite the momentum at times. It is interesting to observe the diversity of people's reactions to me once they realize i majored in theology. I have come across excitement, avoidance, interest, apathy, and hatred-from the well meaning to those out to smother anyone who mentions the dreaded term 'religion'. It's kind of fun to be around such a mixed group of people, even if it takes a good dose of patience to understand what people are trying to articulate.

The last time i went i had a conversation with a man in his late 40's. When he learned of my studies he became quite excited (granted he had had quite a few by that time), and went on to describe quite a story. I'm sure i couldn't go through it all, but to keep it simple he told me about his life. How he had spent much of his younger years as a fisherman and, after a fiscal blow to the industry, found himself on the street selling cocaine to support his daughter. After a few years of this he then took the road back to being sober (that is, free from drugs) and into construction work. He told of his quite mystical experiences and finally explained how he came to Christ. Though it was quite a jumbled mass of information, the most interesting part is how he had realized the faithfulness and presence of God in his life through thick and thin. He had quite the testimony to God's patience and was quite grateful in spite of coming to grips with the fact that he is dying from cancer and has not the means for the proper medical procedures. The same night i found myself talking with a younger man who had attended a seminary in Portland and now finds himself in a most militant manner against the idea of God, Jesus, and the Bible especially. He couldn't get past the legitimacy of the flood, or other 'grandiose' ideas presented in the Bible and therefore had nothing but bitter criticism for the Church and its people. Quite the mixed bag, for sure.

Of late i have been reading Positive Preaching and the Modern Mind by P. T. Forsyth. It is quite the exploratory book, as it delves into preaching, modern thought, historical inquiry and theological musing, to name a few. Here is a passage from the book in the chapter 'The Preacher and the Age' that i found most intriguing.

'It is very singular that on the most grave concern of life a serious man so often makes up his mind in an offhand way. His religious views are of the most casual kind. He seldom really takes pains with the matter. He does not attend to it. His opinions are a sort of spontaneous deposit on the surface of his mind. If it were a business matter he would go into it. If it were a scientific question he would train his mind, and then examine. He takes business and science seriously. But his religion he does not. Scientific people who begin to desire some acquaintance with theology will betake themselves, not to the masters of that discipline as they would with any other science, but to popular sciolists who happen to have a vogue. It is not a matter worth study, as history, literature, philosophy, economy, or the markets are. I do not say a man's religion must be the result of professional or technical study, like these subjects. But it should receive no less earnest attention, and engage him no less seriously and personally, and not be taken at haphazard. That casualness is the source of most of the confusion of the time. Every important topic of human discussion seems a pathless thicket to the person who gives it no attention. It is only after you have taken it seriously for a year or two that it opens into clearness and order. Religion is confused and pathless chiefly to those who treat the greatest concerns with most levity. And it is clear and great not from without the Church, but from within. To look at a building like Albert Hall, or even St. Paul's from the outside, you would have no such impression of its vastness or grandeur as you receive from its interior. And so with Christian truth. It is really and mightily true only from within.'

It is interesting to me that on one hand, during my time at the bar the other night, there is a man who has had no learned education and yet finds 'God' a most appealing topic, and on the other, a man who has spent time in study, possibly years, and finds no more room for 'God' in his life. I'm not trying to infer that by these two gentlemen Forsyth is wrong in any way. In fact, possibly just the opposite. The older gentleman mentioned to me a that there was a reason for the younger man to be so callous. He told me, 'it's because he hasn't had to see someone die yet'. I don't know if that is true, but i heard him out just the same. It's interesting to me because although the younger man had spent time in 'professional' study, he had not the life experience that the older man had. Not to say that age is the only factor here. And maybe its because the younger man has '[made] up his mind in an offhand way' or maybe its because he hasn't given Christianity the opportunity to really engage him seriously and personally. Obviously i cannot be for certain, but again it sets my mind wheeling.

I have been thinking for a time that i may go to seminary. In light of this i have been given quite a large amount of advice concerning this thought. One idea came up when i was talking to a married couple, friends of mine, who are enrolled at Fuller Seminary in California. They told me that the reason why so many fellow students are having a hard time in seminary is because 'they spend there whole time talking about God and they never actually talk to God' (they may be quoting someone, maybe one of my professors, but it escapes my mind for now). I think this may shine a little bit of light on what Forsyth is saying when he says, 'it is clear and great not from without the Church, but from within'. It is easy for one to delve into the arguments about the historical validity of the Bible and whether or not things actually happened the way they are told. Or get hung up on one iota and completely miss the point. It is easy to talk around a subject and never actually engage with it. It is a technique of arguing that happens quite a bit in conversation as i have discovered. And it is so with Christ. As one begins to study theology it can be a slippery slope, and one can lose track of the purpose. As Paul wrote it, 'knowledge puffs up'. Theology is not free from the same danger. But if i can quote a great professor of mine, Adam Neder, (i believe, in summary of another theologian) 'the study of theology is unique in that you do not master the subject, the subject masters you'.