“We are not primarily called to do something or go somewhere; we are called to Someone.” – Os Guinness, Rising to the Call
The question of calling haunts me. It seems to follow me wherever I go. It’s a part of every thought about my future, a factor in many of my decisions in the present, and is in nearly every conversation with friends and family. I know I am not alone in this. I often hear friends talk about where they feel called, what they feel called to do, and how they are going to go about following that call from God. It can be exciting, overwhelming and anxiety-producing all at once.
In many ways, the centrality of calling in Christian circles makes sense. The fundamental structure of God’s story involves call and response. God called creation into existence, it responds by reflecting His beauty, creativity, and even His very image. God calls Abram out of Ur and he responds in obedience (Gen 12). God calls out to Moses from the burning bush and Moses responds by saying “Here I am” (Exodus 3). Jesus calls fishermen to follow him, they respond by dropping their nets (Matt 4). And so on. This rhythm we see in the story of God is even the reason why we structure our worship around call and response; it is the ebb and flow of the Christian story.
It is no wonder then that many in the Church, including myself, have a kind of obsession with figuring out the what, where, and how of God’s call on our lives.
But there are serious dangers here.
I have observed that in my own life and the lives of those around me, when we talk about “calling” we are usually referring to specific things like occupation, location, people groups, and so on. Again, to a certain degree, this makes sense. God does call us to specific places, tasks, and people groups. He called Jonah to Ninevah (Jonah 1), He called Moses to free the Israelites from slavery (Exodus 3), and He even called Philip to one particular person, the Ethiopian Eunuch (Acts 8). We shouldn’t disregard the specifics of God’s call, but in our attention to them, we should be wary of making them into idols.
If there is one clear theme in scripture, it is that God is pursuing our hearts. Our hearts are the seat of our affections—they contain the throne room of our loves and are the core of our very being. So, if our hearts are preoccupied with things that are less than God Himself, then there will inevitably be misalignment in who we are. This misalignment is what scripture calls “idolatry.”
Many of us, including myself, have flirted with (and maybe have even fallen into) this trap of idolatry when pursuing God’s call on our life. When we think about, talk through, and pray over our call, we find ourselves obsessing over titles, romanticizing places, and maybe even yearning for recognition. We often mask our misaligned desires in language of “calling” in order to baptize our ambition while all the time God was calling us not to a title or to a place, but to Himself.
But how can we avoid this idolatry when trying to embrace God’s call? These secondary aspects, the “lower tier” goods of location, position, people groups, etc. are so interwoven into this question of calling that it seems impossible to filter and order them in a healthy way. How can we grasp a theology of calling that helps us develop rightly ordered loves?
I believe the story of Abraham and Isaac in Genesis 22 offers us understanding and hope. But first, some context.
You see, when Abraham was seventy-five years old, he was called out of Ur and told to settle in the land of Canaan. God promised him that he would be the father, the patriarch of a “great nation” and that this nation would “be a blessing” to the rest of the world (Gen. 12:1-3 ESV). Abraham obeyed “as the Lord had told him” and traveled as a nomad for decades, moving in and out of the land that he had been promised, waiting for God’s word to be fulfilled (Gen. 12:4 ESV).
This was no easy task. During this period of over twenty-five years of wandering, waiting, and yearning for the “call” on his life to be realized, Abraham did the following things:
- Abraham lied to Pharaoh and told him that Sarah was not his wife but his sister because he was afraid that the Egyptians would kill him in order to have Sarah (Gen 12:10-20)
- Abraham was impatient with God and questioned the Lord on when he would give him an heir (Gen 15:2-3)
- Abraham struggled with how he was to possess the promised land of Canaan (Gen 15:8)
- Abraham, fearing that Sarah would never be able to bear him a child, decided to take matters into his own hand and had a child with Hagar, Sarah’s maidservant (Gen 16:1-4)
- Abraham “fell on his face and laughed” at God when He specifically promised that Abraham would have a son through Sarah because she was ninety years old (Gen 17:17)
- Abraham lies again about Sarah’s identity to King Abimelech because he feared for his own life and his own future (Gen 20:11)
If you read the entire story of Abraham carefully, you quickly realize that Abraham struggled to understand and embrace God’s call on his life. He pleaded with God for clarity, he questioned God on how he was going to fulfill His task, and there were even times when he tried to control his own fate.
But despite all of these missteps along the way we also see in Abraham someone who, by God’s grace, repeatedly returned to God in prayer, who renewed His promises with the Promiser, and ultimately never stopped believing and trusting that God was faithful to his word. Abraham’s belief in the Lord was “counted to him as righteousness” not because it was perfect, but because despite all his fears and doubts he never let it slip away (Gen 15:6).
All of this fumbling, wrestling, questioning, promising and re-promising leads up to Genesis 22.
In this chapter we have the story of God “testing” Abraham and commanding him to sacrifice his only son who represents the culmination and the fulfillment of God’s call and promises to Abraham. (Gen 22:1-2). Abraham responds by saying “Here I am” and by doing what God commands (Gen. 22:1).
At this point in the story, most of us are asking: “Why would Abraham agree to such a cruel request?” and more importantly “Why would a perfectly good God command anyone to do such a thing in the first place?” These are understandable questions, but when we locate this story within the entire trajectory of Abraham’s pursuit of God’s call, things come into focus.
You see, in order to understand this story you have to understand what God was after. He was in pursuit of Abraham’s heart, the axis of his affection and desires. There was the reality, however, that Isaac represented to Abraham the “lower tier” aspects of God’s call such as the title of patriarch, the legacy of a great nation, and the power that comes from being a leader. If Abraham is more concerned with these secondary aspects of God’s call, they could usurp God’s rightful place on the throne of his heart.
But Abraham trusted God.
Just as he was lifting the knife in order to go through with giving Isaac back to the One who promised him, an angel of the Lord called to Abraham. Abraham responded “Here I am.” The angel then told Abraham “Do not lay your hand on the boy…for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me” (Gen 22:12). Nearby was a ram caught in a bush so Abraham sacrificed the ram to God and named the place “The LORD will provide” (Gen. 22:14).
Abraham, over the span of nearly three decades, was wrestling with and seeking out the Lord. This continual, faithful struggle cultivated in Abraham a heart that was ready to say “Here I am” when he was asked to give everything. He spoke these words not out of cold indifference, but out of a deep and unshakeable trust that the “Lord will provide.”
Abraham’s story is, in many ways, our story. We feel a call on our life, but we lack clarity. In this murkiness we begin to question, doubt, and to make our calling our own. We dream of places and positions and peoples and are tempted to make these things ultimate. However, if, like Abraham, we receive God’s daily grace to give us the strength to cling to His promises, the Caller will mold and shape our hearts so that we, too, may say “Here I am” when God asks us to give it all back.
Mike Terry, New City Stories Contributor