I’m not exactly sure what I thought my forties would look like, but I think I had the unspoken, almost subconscious expectation that this decade would be filled more answers than questions. I think that I thought these middle years would be better imaged by a boat being steered on a direct course than by a boat seemingly going in circles. But the latter is where I find myself, and the wiser part of me doubts that I am the only one.

A friend who is walking through a similar soul season sent me a short poem that I’ve been thinking about a long time since.

“The Real Work” by Wendell Berry

“It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.”

A Circular Path toward Calling

It’s not that I have forsaken my creed; in fact, I believe it more deeply and clearly than I ever have. I have never known such a deep dependence upon and intimacy with Christ. I have never been more committed to the Scriptures. Yet, I have never felt more unclear about what God is doing in me and where he is steering me.

As a pastor’s wife in a young church full of mostly young people, I have calling conversations all the time. Yet, I have never felt more confused on my own. I thought the “What am I supposed to do with my life?” questions were largely the territory of people in their twenties; yet, here I am at forty unable to answer the same questions clearly. I imagined the twenties as a walk down an interminably long hallway of potentially open or closed doors; I never knew I would still feel like I was on the same hallway twenty years after my twenties. Granted,I feel less angsty about my inability to answer the calling question and more eager to see what God has in store.

While walking the dogs the other day (which, in some ways, can be considered a stand-in for a crystallized calling), I wrote the following vulnerable poem/ prayer:

“Lord, I don’t know what I’m doing with my life–
But I know certainly what you did with yours.
Your agony became my archway to God–
So what of these open or closed doors?”

I have to remind myself that I know far more than I don’t know. I know my God– which is to say that I know the One with whom I companion on my unfolding calling journey. I know myself more than I ever have– which is to say that I am wise enough to shunt all my distrust towards my flesh and my own ability as I shove all my trust toward my God and his ability.

The Captain of Calling

This week, I was beginning to feel frustrated at where I am (or, more accurately, where I am not) at my age. In exasperation and impatience, I told the Lord, “I feel like I am going in circles.”

While he didn’t verbally respond to me, the Spirit prodded me to a question: “Why do imagine captains would steer their ships in circles?”

Though I am no sailor, my novice answers included the following: dangers known to the captain but unseen to the naked eyes, tide charts, or to buy time while waiting for the best conditions to anchor or move forward according to plan.

What I might feel as circles in this season are God’s gracious provisions to me. He knows better than I. He has the best information on all the pertinent pieces, including his wiring of me and his purposes for me and the greater advancement of the kingdom of God (both within me and around me). I need not understand the course when I know the character of the captain. I may not know the exact pathway, but I know that we are headed to safe harbor in the new heavens and the new earth.

As I was studying Hebrews 11 today, Abraham’s faith stood out to me in technicolor.

“By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that we was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going” (Hebrews 11: 8–9).

Now here was a man who knew his God but had absolutely no idea where he was going, at least not immediately. He knew the long term end goal, though; that was crystal clear to him, even if the intermediate steps were a blur.

“For he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God” (Hebrews 11: 10).

Maybe these circles aren’t so bad after all. I’ve a trustworthy captain with scarred hands at the helm. If he chooses a semi-circular path toward calling, I want to learn to enjoy the ride.