Not Yet

Let's talk vocation, shall we?

Not too long ago, I went to buy flowers as a hostess gift for some former NET staff who were having our team over to dinner. It took me a surprisingly long time to find any (for some reason, Clayton supermarkets appear to have done away with their floral departments!), and on the way, I ran a few other errands (like lugging around a 3kg box of laundry detergent while traveling several kilometres on foot) so by the time I finally landed upon a flower shop of decent quality and agreeable price range, I was not at my best. Headachy, footachy and lots-of-things-in-between-achy, I presented my selection to the florist, a middle-aged man with a thick Yiddish accent. I gave my best attempt at a smile, well aware that my internal grumpiness was unjustified and juvenile but nevertheless happy to revel in it.

"Ah, these are very beautiful! You have boyfriend?" 

Blushing, I jumped straight to- "No, I don't actually! I'm a full-time missionary."

"Christian missionary?"

"Yes, it's my second year volunteering with the Catholic church."

"Ah! So you believe that this-uh, this Jesus, is also the God?" my ever-more-evidently Jewish friend asked, his eyes suspicious.

I nodded, crossing my fingers that he would still sell me the flowers when confronted with my heretical belief system. 

"No," he said, "You see, no Trinity. Not three. Just the one God. Jesus, he a prophet. Not God." 

My head thumping, I tried to mentally flick back through the pages of apologetics books relating to Judeo-Christian relations. Thudding in protest, my brain veered off on another tangent, leaving me with little more to say other than "Mm-hmm?" 

Clearly seeing this as an invitation to further deconstruct my belief system, the Jewish florist began quizzing me on the prophets and on Trinitarian doctrine. I answered as best I could for the fact that I couldn't quite understand half of what he was saying through some cacophonous combination of his Fiddler-esque accent and the ever-louder gong clanging in my frontal lobe. I found common ground where I could ("yes, I believe there is only one God") and sought, I hope, to understand before being understood. 

Eventually, he smiled and began to wrap up my flowers, which I took to be a good sign. Seeming appeased by our conversation and none the worse for wear (in contrast to the 19-year-old missionary who now stood shaking in her shoes and questioning her entire belief system), he congratulated me on sticking true to what I believe in. "Whatever you gonna believe in, you should be strong in it," he said as he taped the floral paper. 

I thanked him sincerely for the flowers and the conversation, but before I could turn to leave, he clapped a hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye.

"Now, just listen for one more minute. You must not stay single forever. You get married, you be creative. It is not good for you to be alone. No matter what they tell you, don't go be nun or something like this. You are meant to be wife, okay?"

I agreed, picked up my flowers (and laundry powder) and began the long walk home with a full mind. 

I wanted to cry. The tears welling up were probably somewhat answerable to the faith interrogation I had just received (and felt exceptionally ill-equipped to withstand); but even more flowing out of my Jewish friend's closing remarks about vocation.

You must not stay single forever. It is not good for you to be alone. You are meant to be wife, okay?

The trouble was, I didn't even know if that was what I wanted any more.Where once I had felt completely sorted and sussed as to what my calling in life was, now I was completely uncertain.

Earlier that morning, Jesus and I had been having a good heart-to-heart about vocation; not our first, and ostensibly not our last. I've written before about my vocation journey but, in the months since August, God has been twisting my heart in some rather interesting sommersaults. 

At Ignite Conference in September last year, hearing Sister Miriam James speak, all the old desires for religious life began stirring rather painfully in my heart. I wanted to be a religious sister. I did not want to get married. I couldn't fathom why anyone who was in love with God would possibly want to settle for marriage; I just didn't know how I could put Him first or do amazing things for His kingdom in any other vocation than single life. I wanted to run away from married life and all of the strife and hassle it seemed to present. 

After an incredibly fruitful brainstorm about a 'vocation to vocations'; a re-examination of my own motivations; and some distraction in the form of an attraction, I reached the conclusion that perhaps marriage was not inherently evil. It appeared (unfortunately) to be the legitimate calling the Lord had placed on my life, and so I begrudgingly let go of my desire to be cloaked in a habit and live out vows of poverty, chastity and obedience.

Flash forward a few months - through a re-watching of all the Call the Midwife episodes (oh my goodness, how amazing is Sister Julienne?), a bucketload of lovely team conversations about vocation and the daily witness of a team sister's desire to give herself completely to Christ - to the day of my conversation at the floral counter. That morning, curled up on a beanbag in front of the Blessed Sacrament (is bringing a bean bag to Adoration heretical? Certainly comfy...), I began my daily bout of Lectio Divina. Barely had I started writing out my thoughts on the passage (Mark 3:2-30, in case you were wondering), when Jesus totally interrupted me with -

"Permit me to speak, will you, little one?"

(For the record, Jesus did not interrupt me out loud. Would be cool (and terrifying) to hear the audible voice of God, but for now I'll content myself with the unmistakable internal whisper that sounds so different from my own thoughts.)

The term of endearment made it a gentle request, but I still felt somewhat of the admonition there - as if to say, "Shut up and let me speak, will you?"

So I shut up and let Him speak:

"Console my people; comfort their aching hearts. To thirst so deeply and keenly with no idea where to search for Living Water - that is true pain. Do I satisfy you, beloved? Am I enough for you? Then be Mine, that all may see where thirst is truly quenched."

I began to wonder where He was going with this. In all truth, it felt a bit like a proposal - and I wasn't sure about my answer.

Forever is an awfully long time. In spite of all my posturing, I'm still not sold on the idea of the religious life. Sure it's easy beans to talk about how much you want to be a nun when you're pretty sure that God is calling you to marriage; it's another boat entirely when it seems like God is calling you to marry Him.

Anyway, I wasn't sure if God really was asking me to 'be His' by devoting eveeeerrrything to Him, or just inviting me to a deeper understanding of the universal vocation to love, etc. etc.

So, just to be on the safe side, I said no.

(are you shocked?) 

Actually, that's not quite accurate (you can stop being shocked now). I didn't say no. I said not yet.

It's true: I really, really, really want to be a religious sister. I want to wear a habit, and spend hours in prayer every day, and have a built in community life of devoted, holy friends, and have the time and energy to give innumerable hours to the service of the poor, and witness to the world that God alone can satisfy. If God invited me to be a nun tomorrow, I would leap to the front door of a convent.

It's also true that I really, really, really want to get married. I want to wear a wedding dress, and fight to make it work with another flawed human being, and pour out my love on a multitude of babies and the husband with whom I created them, and witness to the world that holiness is possible where you already are. If God invited me to get married tomorrow, I would gladly wait patiently for the six-months-after-NET-finishes period to be over and trust that eventually some poor, unsuspecting young prince would fall prey to my many charms and propose.

However.

However.

In spite of both of these things being true, it's also true that I'm really, really, REALLY not ready for either vocation. I don't know where or to what God is calling me, and I'm learning to be okay with that.

If I'm real with myself, a huge part of my love both for marriage and for the religious life is my impatient unwillingness to accept the here and now as my vocation. I'm eager and excited to chat with Jesus about vocation (even if it's scary) because I frequently fall victim to what my team sister calls 'nostalgia about the future'. It's nice to live in a daydream - whether that daydream is filled with the liturgy of the hours, or little ones covered with flour.

My whole life I've yearned for things yet to come, and forgotten to be present with the world I find in front of me. But if I spend my whole life waiting for my life to begin, how much will I miss out on?

No matter what state of life the Lord is drawing my heart towards in the years to come - whether He wants me to 'be His' and 'console His people' through the life of a consecrated celibate or of a spouse and parent - right now He has a vocation for me!

He is calling me to holiness and to mission; to make a total gift of self to the world; to grow and learn to reflect Him ever more truly; to fall deeply and madly in love with Jesus.

And none of these things have to wait.

Dear friend, are you waiting for word from the Lord? Are you restlessly discerning what He has in store for you, anxious that you'll get it wrong or that His answer will never come? Are you afraid of saying "not yet" to the desires that are pulling you in every direction?

Be still. Know that He is God.

"Don't get ahead of your guide... By your struggles and worries, by your anxiety and haste, you overtake Him with the pretense of moving more quickly."
Francois-Marie-Jacob Libermann 

Patience takes a terrifying amount of courage. It's not easy to say to the world "I don't have it sorted yet". It's not easy to feel like you're waiting for your 'real life' to begin while everyone around you settles down in their convents or their honeymoon homes. And it's not easy to quieten your worried, impatient heart with platitudes like 'be still and know that He is God.'

But oh, how He loves!

His vocation for you in this moment is richer and more beautiful than you could ever dream. When He asks you to be satisfied with Him alone, that is a choice and a gift of self you can begin making right now.

Be the living witness to Living Water wherever you find yourself at this moment. Maybe "vocation" is not yet the question on the cards. But maybe it doesn't need to be.

Happily ever after - holy ever after - begins with today's yes.

AMDG