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“What do you
want to be when you grow up?”
At five, I wanted to be a
famous astronaut or artist. I had ideas, but no single
response. Now, at 25, it’s still the simplest, yet
hardest, question to answer. What do I want to be? Who do
I want to be?
What is my vocation, my calling?
I first heard
the term “vocation” in confirmation class when I was
about 13 years old. The definition that
sunk straight into my soul the first time I heard it was
this:
“Your calling is the place where your great joy meets
the world’s great need.”
My closest
friends and I have spent the last few years in
pay-the-rent jobs and have finally accumulated enough
experience and earned enough credibility to follow our
hearts.
We used to
think our vocations, or callings, were to do things
like lobbying for infrastructure in rural Chilean towns.
We wanted to see our names in lights and in print for
doing great things in the world. Can we reclaim our
dreams, or do we just keep the soul-sucking but decent
jobs that let us lead the social and spiritual lives we
want outside the office?
My friends,
college-educated women in their mid-20s who were raised
in communities of faith, in this year alone will be
getting promoted, getting married, having children,
buying houses, and going back to school.
Recently at a
party, I asked them, “Are you able to serve God and your
faith in your job?” Their answers both surprised and
reassured me, and generated even more questions.
Cheryl, who
works at a wealth management firm, mentioned the
difference between “living to work” and “working to
live,” she’s noticed between
Americans and Europeans. “In America, your job defines
you. That’s the first thing we ask someone. In Europe,
they ask where you vacation.” She hates the way her job
defines her and is considering graphic design or — her
passion and college major — theatre.
Marie, who
works in corporate real estate, is working on her MBA.
She is learning about service. “Corporate culture
corrupts or makes its employees excel. I want to be a manager
that inspires people.”
Lindsey, who
works as a registered nurse, said, “My whole life at
work is about giving of myself, but that doesn’t make
other jobs any less important.” To her, honest work at
any level is important and contributes to the common
good. “I don’t think people of faith have to work in a
service job to still be people of faith.”
When I was 21,
on the verge of my senior year at college and
dying to try my skills in the real world, I interned
with Women of the ELCA to help develop the first issue
of Café. During that summer I felt inspired. I was
combining my passion and education to create something
good. I decided that summer to always find ways to use
my education, interests, and skills to serve my faith
and the global community.
Then I
graduated. I waitressed, interned at a magazine, and
made cocktails and coffee. Over the course of two years, I mailed
approximately 200 resumes to non-profits, big-profits,
and everything in between, trying to get a “real job.”
Today, I work
as a technical writer. I write reports and user guides
that translate “software engineer-speak” for our
customers and clients. It’s not my life’s work, but I
like it. It’s a good job.
Have I failed
my mission to serve God every day in my work? Shouldn’t
I spend the long hours I spend working serving my
passions and my community?
Paul Menzel,
professor at Pacific Lutheran University who founded the
Wild Hope vocation-in-higher-education project, says,
“Vocation is meaning and purpose in an individual’s
life, … more than the American translation of a
successful job.” He explained that, according to Martin Luther,
no matter where you are, there are sacred elements in life
that make
where you work a vocation. Menzel said, “There has to be a
balance between calling and choice, religiously and
psychologically.”
Menzel
suggests five ways to find your vocation:
1. Get
educated. Study other cultures and history.
Get outside the narrow slice of your life in
21st-century America.
2. Travel. Go
to other societies, across the world, across the
country, or across town.
3. Be open.
Explore. Decide to have different experiences.
4. Have the
courage to fail. Too many people worry about failure
before 30. Take a year, and try something that might
fail.
5. Be patient.
Meaning and purpose will find you, but not overnight.
That’s true if you’re talking about God’s plan or
creating your own.
Kristen Glass,
director for young adult ministry, ELCA, is the one who
told me not to ask, “What do I want to be?” but “Who am
I right now?” and “How do I interact with the world
around me?” Glass defined what vocation is — and isn’t: “Vocation isn’t about balance, but it is about
being centered on the right things.” She reminded me
that Luther called us to serve God in our churches,
jobs, schools, and families.
As Glass said,
“Vocation is not a job. Vocation is our unique skills,
gifts, talents, and passions meeting the needs of our
communities. It’s who we are right now.”
Now I had even more questions: Is it really
possible to “work” for God in a desk job? Can you make
any job a vocation? How do you find balance, or a
centered life?
Some say it’s
the search that matters, it's the asking that validates
the question — any question — regardless of the answer.
At least I
understand now that vocation is more than a job. But I
still see my job as my place in my community — my
potential to do good.
And although the craving for
meaning and purpose is universal, I’m still very aware
of the luxury of having the energy, time, and tools
to consciously question my purpose and search for work
that fulfills my passions. Not everyone has that luxury.
Glass said,
“Finding your answer will never be one big ‘aha!’
moment. It’s a series of those moments.”
So maybe these
questions, this point in my life, are one of those many
moments. In the world I believe I am called to serve,
maybe this is my vocation: to be me, Emilie, who writes
and sings, whose not-so-secret desires are to be a
little famous and very useful, and who is passionate
about serving God in my daily work … whatever that work
turns out to be.
Emilie Rommel works as a technical writer by day and an
actress (whenever she can fit it in) in Tacoma, Wash.
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