A Call to Freedom

"For you were called to freedom, brothers [and sisters]. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."" (Galatians 5:13-14)

There seems to be a common theme running through the frustrations in my own life, and I think I'm not alone in this: I suffer from a desire to know what my future holds, and am very conscious of the burden of being left in the unknown for this time. I am of a generation of planners. I decided what high school sports I would play or not play when in kindergarten; I planned my college career before I could drive; I arrived for my first day of University with a checklist of expectations for finding a mate and a life-long career in the next 1460 days. And now I have graduated and wandered the post-college world for two years - and I am still holding onto that checklist, wondering what happened to all my careful planning.

I believe this "planning gene" is not actually genetic, but has been bred into me by our white American culture of endless possibilities. The world is your oyster. All the doors are wide open. The future is at your fingertips. You can be anything you want to be. Only YOU can hold yourself back. ...I can't tell you how many times I have heard these phrases verbatim, or as undercurrents in the speeches of our parents, mentors, teachers, and employers.

However, instead of seeing endless possibilities, I am now panicking, wondering how to make a choice, how to commit to something long-term, knowing there are five hundred million options laid out before me. When career seems to become the determining factor for a person's future, settling on one seems impossible.

I don't think, though, that I have this all in the right order. Before I can figure out where to place my commitments, must I not first figure out what calling it is that will guide my decisions?

In light of this thought, let me backtrack and re-consider the planning aspect of the above scenario. In the Christian American world, much lip service is given to prayerfully considering each possibility, and then moving in the direction one feels God is leading. But in the rushing currents of everyday life, hearing God's direction in the sea of voices becomes less and less the focus, and more and more of a "would be nice, but don't count on it" aspect. Instead of relying on that voice, I have been conditioned to make choices and hope they aren't too contrary to what He would choose.

So do I listen to the call of career choices and options, or what may be a very different call from my Creator? Dictionary.com gives 52 unique definitions of the word "call," as noun, verb (with object) and verb (with no object). Even my theological dictionary identifies three different "calls" on our lives. The English bible uses the word in several different ways; from God "calling" the light Day and the dark Night - the act of naming - to Paul's detailing the call of the Kingdom to each of our lives.

It is this last option that hands-down frightens me. It is both exciting and humbling. It can be freedom, but a good portion of the world will call it restriction. It is said that Jesus called us to two things: first, to love God with all that we have; second, to love our neighbors as ourselves. Paul tells us that these commandments are given as a result of our "call" to freedom in Christ's salvation. If we are called to a freedom that will bear these fruits of surrender and love, though, why do the details ensnare us at every turn?

I would love for nothing more than to wrap this up by hitting a home run with some great scripture and wisdom, to answer my own question about the demand of the details. But before I can go there, let's just sit with this question: are we so close to a freedom that bears surrender and love that we can move past the demand of the details?