I recently went to a waterpark with my family. It was a great time of laughs, "Dad-watch-this" moments, overpriced hot dogs, and lines that were long but allowed conversation with the kids, so I don't lament. Throughout the day I notice the music played throughout the park consisted of a 90's playlist. My kids never heard of many of the songs and told me to stop singing along; I was embarrassing them in front of these strangers they'd never see again. The music sent me back to my twenties. I felt relaxed. I was selfishly free during that season of my life and didn't think much about vocation. I also didn't carry around the anxiety produced from over-analyzing meaning and purpose that I can drag with me as an adult either.
Philosopher Soren Kierkegaard said "What I really lack is to be clear in my mind what I am to do, not what I am to know... The thing is to understand myself, to see what God really wishes me to do... to find the idea for which I can live and die." The tension between what we are and what we could be has existed for centuries. Although today we seem to place the ultimate priority on calling. Identifying and fulfilling one's purpose is a good thing. Although I wonder if the more we elevate this, the more angst-producing pressure we put on ourselves and others. I recently heard on the radio that a hyper-focus on calling creates an ideal for the next generation that's quickly disillusioned upon their entry into the real world. The radio host said that while he believes he's doing what God's equipped him to do, he still only really loves his job some days, is neutral about it most days, and sometimes simply tolerates the work. His point was that work is often less idealized calling and more mundane, the latter of where God often shows up and we miss Him while frantically looking for the former.
I wanted to bottle up and keep the feeling at the waterpark. Everyone had smiles. I thought that must be a great place to work, everyone all happy and helpful. I worked at places like this before. It still seemed like work.
I am constantly looking for meaning in my days. Am I doing what God's called me to do? Have I overlooked a God-inspired vision for the sake of comfort? Am I making the most of my minutes? I know that I've always wanted to be a Dad and God's blessed me with this. Andy Stanley said that sometimes our legacy isn't the careers or organizations we build, but in the children we raise. This gives me hope. (Semi-spoiler alert for When Breath Becomes Air)... Neurosurgeon Paul Kalanithi faced death and wrote this to his newly born daughter, "When you come to one of the many moments in life where you must give an account of yourself, provide a ledger of what you have been, and done, and meant to the world, do not, I pray, discount that you filled a dying man's days with a sated joy, a joy unknown to me in all my prior years, a joy that does not hunger for more and more but rests, satisfied. In this time, right now, that is an enormous thing."
Paul's words resonate with me. I love being a Dad and it feels like I'm fulfilling some kind of Divine purpose. Perhaps the lesson is that our universal calling is to find God's purpose in all of the relationships He's placed before us. Maybe we need to look at our interactions with our spouse, children, in-laws, colleagues, rivals, and friends with an eternal lens - to stop searching for grand meaning for our lives and invest in the now, to be deeply interested in the face across the table. That may just be an enormous thing.