Posted: November 7th, 2007 at 2:36am By: Rev. Rebecca Schlatter
The search for our calling is lifelong, as we continually ask ourselves and God how and where to use the time, energy, skills, experience and love we've been given. In that search we are surrounded by potential clues — things that call out for our attention, things that advertise one thing and another, things that tell us what we "should" do.

The search carries great risk. For example, we might simply fail to find anything truly worthwhile and sustainable. A bigger risk is that we will find someone else's calling instead, and live unhappily ever after with people and in places where we don't belong. Many times, the "shoulds" take us there.

Because calling is so personal, finding your calling is a lot like finding a place in which you are most you. The greatest goal is becoming yourself, not someone else, as in the oft-quoted Jewish story about Rabbi Zusya. He said, "When I die, God will not ask me, 'Why were you not Moses?' He will ask me, 'Why were you not Zusya?' "

Indeed, why not? Why is it so hard to be ourselves sometimes? Why is it so tempting to follow someone else's calling? I remember back to my teenage years, when helpful people would say to me, "Just be yourself." It was meant as supportive and loving, of course, but it frustrated me. I thought, "Well, who on earth is that?" How can I be myself when I don't know yet who "myself" is?

If you're not sure who Zusya is (and especially if you're not sure if Zusya will be successful or popular), then aiming for Moses can seem like a safer bet.

The search for your calling is like a treasure hunt, in which it is difficult to find clues with your name on them when you're not always sure what your name is. (Zusya who?) But there's no alternative to that discernment, because following someone else's clues can never lead to your calling.

I learned this from Christmas treasure hunts when I was a kid. It all started when I was 3, and my parents had bought me a big doll that couldn't be wrapped easily. They decided to hide it, and through a series of pictorial clues which led, say, from the TV cabinet to the kitchen table to the bedroom closet, I finally found the doll hidden behind the shower curtain.

The search was so much fun, I asked for a treasure hunt every year, and several years later, my little sister got into the game. Then things really got interesting. My dad would put out two sets of clues, for our two simultaneous treasure hunts. Our house wasn't that big, so sometimes we found each other's clues instead of our own.

My dad learned quickly that he had to mark the clues clearly with our names. Otherwise, for example, I might get confused and think that the clue that sent me to look under the bed was sending me to look under the kitchen table. And then under the kitchen table I'd find one of my sister's clues. And then if I started following her clues, I'd end up with her present — which was not a good thing, since we were four years apart. I could end up with her 4-year-old painting easel instead of my 8-year-old bicycle. Only my clues would lead me to my present. And even though her clues might be easier to solve or more interesting, there was no way I could make her clues lead to my present.

In the search for our calling, there are lots of things that are really good to do, but not all of them are ours to do. The risk of being misled is especially great when a possibility involves something valuable — a well-paid job, for example, or a socially valued role, such as one that helps people. Thinking we "should" seek security and approval can masquerade convincingly as a calling. But that calling may not be our own.

Certainly, there is room in one's calling for a sense of duty; that can be an important clue, and it just might have our name on it. But in a family or a workplace or a church, it doesn't work well in the long run to have people living jobs and relationships only out of "shoulds" — especially jobs and relationships that would be better suited to someone else.

God calls us to far more freedom and joy than that. That's the good news: If you're called to be Zusya, you don't have to be Moses. Even better: As Zusya, you get to spend a lifetime figuring out how to "just be yourself."

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Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Rebecca Schlatter.

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