s Francis of Assisi learned, the call to ministry doesn’t always happen at once.
by Mark Galli

Like many middle-class boys of his day, Francis of Assisi partied a lot. He and his friends danced through the streets, serenaded young ladies late into the night (sometimes being rewarded for their singing by the more willing ladies), and committed their share of juvenile vandalism and thievery.

Francis, it seems, was born for this lifestyle: “He was an object of admiration to all, and he endeavored to surpass others in flamboyant display of vain accomplishments,” wrote one early biographer. He was known for his “wit, curiosity, practical jokes and foolish talk, songs, and soft and flowing garments.”

In short, he was a spoiled, pleasure-loving, irresponsible young man.

But it slowly began to dawn on him that his life was meant for something else, and he increasingly took walks outside of Assisi’s city gates to reflect on this inner restlessness. On one of these walks, he came across a church, San Damiano, a little less than a mile below Assisi. It was one of the neglected churches in the area; the walls were crumbling all about it, and the priest barely eked out an existence.

In scattered light, Francis made his way to the altar, knelt before a painted Byzantine crucifix, and began to pray. Sometime in the middle of his prayers, as Francis gazed at the crucifix, he heard Christ speak: “Francis, go and repair my house, which you can see is all being destroyed.”

He was “more than a little stunned,” one of his biographer’s noted, and walked out “trembling and stuttering like a man out of his senses.”

Francis decided he would carry out the command as literally as he knew how: He went home and sold some of the family goods, bought tools and supplies, and began reconstructing the old chapel.

And when he had completed the repairs at San Damiano, he set upon another dilapidated chapel, Saint Peter’s, and then another still, Saint Mary of the Angels. If his calling was to repair Christ’s churches that had fallen into ruins, he would do just that.

But he had yet to focus on the big picture--how the medieval church as a whole was in need of spiritual repair. As Pope Innocent III put it in one scathing critique:

Many priests have lived luxuriously. They have passed the time in drunken revels, neglecting religious rites. When they have been at Mass, they have chatted about commercial affairs. They have left churches and tabernacles in an indecent state, sold posts and sacraments, promoted ignorant and unworthy people to the clerical state, thought they had others better suited for it. Many bishops have appropriated the income of a parish for themselves, leaving the parish indigent.

The walls of this church were crumbling as well.

But Francis’ vision wasn’t enlarged until many months after his initial sense of call. It happened at the third church Francis restored, Saint Mary of the Angels. During a mass held early in 1208, the priest read a passage from the gospels in which Jesus instructs his disciples to go out and preach: “Give as freely as you have received! Don’t take any money in your money belts--no gold, silver, or even copper coins. Don’t carry a traveler’s bag with a change of clothes and sandals or even a walking stick. . . .”

Something about this fascinated Francis, and afterwards he rushed up to the priest and begged him to explain. The priest told him that Christ’s disciples did not possess riches nor carry a wallet or a sack, nor bread, nor a staff, nor shoes, and no more than one tunic--then they went about preaching the kingdom of God.

Something clicked inside Francis, and he blurted out, “This is what I want! This is what I seek, this is what I desire with all my heart!”

From that day forth, Francis knew what he was to do--live a life of profound simplicity in the name of Christ, and preach for the church’s reform. It took awhile--and two different moments of call--before Francis figured out not only what God wanted him to do, but how to do it.

ou can't anticipate where God will lead you.

Entering seminary is a choice fraught with uncertainty. Every student has had days when he or she has wondered, “What am I doing here?” and “What will my future look like?”

But according to Leith Andersen, author of recently released Jesus (Baker) and Leadership That Works (Bethany House Publishers), and pastor of Wooddale Church, in a suburb of Minneapolis, if you are uncertain, get over it. Doubt and insecurity are normative. Just faithfully keep moving, getting experience in what you hope to become, and sooner or later you will figure out your calling--even if retrospectively.

How do you understand the concept of “calling”?
We are called primarily to be Christians--not to a specific vocation. We live in a time when vocations often change throughout a lifetime. So, if we are primarily obedient to the call of Jesus Christ, we’ll figure out the other, often circumstantially.

Did you enroll in seminary with a calling to full-time ministry?
I went to seminary not knowing what I was going to do. I grew up during Vietnam, so my choices were either seminary or the Vietnam War. Like many other students who were in seminary then, I was there as an alternative to the war.

So did you experience a clear call while in seminary?
In short, no, I didn’t. I had several professors who graciously took me aside and suggested I not go into pastoral ministry because I was not gifted or suited to do it. They had a stereotype of a pastor, and, in their eyes, I didn’t fit that. At first I took their words seriously. I thought I would pursue an academic career instead.

While in seminary, however, I had a positive church experience, which opened the door to the possibility of doing full-time ministry. I primarily pursued the church track but also lived in the academic world for my entire career.

I didn’t have a clear picture of what I was doing until about ten to twenty years into ministry. I hear about people’s Road to Damascus calling experiences, and I never had that. My sense of calling was retrospective not prospective. So I identify with students who go into seminary without a distinct call.

I had to figure it out along the way. It was trial and error. And it was faith.

So how does a student figure out if he or she is fit for full-time ministry?
There are practical questions you can ask: Is this something I am able to do? Is this something I like to do? Do other people affirm that I should do this? And, am I successful at this? Ultimately, if you can’t do it, you don’t like to do it, people don’t think you should do it, and you fail at it, you probably won’t continue doing it.

However, if you are already in seminary, you have an inclination towards ministry. So do seminary well and trust God to lead you from there.

I know a guy who got his law degree and then went to seminary. Then he worked for the FBI and was assigned to cases investigating televangelists and religious organizations. Now he is a vice president of security for the Target Corporation.

You can’t fully anticipate your career path. You just have to be open to where God leads you.

earning to lead while being led.
by Mike Langer, North Park Theological Seminary

Henry Nouwen, in the Wounded Healer, writes, "So the first and most basic task of the Christian leader in the future will be to lead His people out of the land of confusion into the land of hope."

Nouwen's future has arrived. It is daunting, though, to take on this rudimentary task. How will I lead God's people out of the land of confusion while I have my roots deeply fixed in its soil? I question my call, wondering, “How will I, one of the confused, respond? Am I really called?”

Called out of cynicism
I first heard God's call during a conversation with a missionary friend and mentor. Noticing my ducking and dodging of his questions about my future in ministry, specifically in Latin America, he called me out saying, "Mike, it is kind of hard to steer a parked car." Later that evening, after delivering that prophetic slap-in-the-face, he asked me to address a group of young men and women on the brink of their first semester of Bible college. Not understanding what God had in mind, I agreed.

While I poured out my story of God’s work in my life, I clearly heard the Spirit speak. I was being called, first, out of my stagnant life of cynicism into a life of purpose and, second, to release everything that had defined my security. I realized how I had developed a certain sense of entitlement in my life and had disregarded Paul’s call to Christ-like living: “Don't be selfish; don't live to make a good impression on others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourself. Don't think only about your own affairs, but be interested in others, too, and what they are doing.” (Philippians 2:3-4, NLT).

God's friction
There is friction in waiting patiently on God’s timing and being responsive to His call. As I began to look at different schools, as well as housing and employment options, I knew there were important financial details that needed to be addressed. It was clear that I needed to make immediate sacrifices, regardless of how the details of seminary came together.

Considering Jesus’ words, “Store your treasures in heaven, where they will never become moth-eaten or rusty and where they will be safe from thieves. Wherever your treasure is, there your heart and thoughts will also be.” (Matthew 6:20-21, NLT), I had to throw off the things to which I had wrongly felt so entitled. After consulting with a financial advisor from church, I made very difficult but effective changes to become more available for God’s call. Within a month, I sold my car and a couple of other valuable possessions, moved out of my house, put in my notice of resignation with my employer, and registered for a full load of classes, including a mission trip to Ecuador. While I made these sacrifices, I stood by and witnessed God’s faithfulness in providing for my needs--evidence that the call was authentic.

Our brokenness, God's glory
As I begin seminary, I realize I don’t have time to worry about the ministry to which God will lead me. However, I am sure of this: God will lead me from my confusion and will not let any piece of my experience go unused. God wants to use all of my life wounds (mostly self-inflicted) to help heal those around me.

For, if we are called to be Christ-like, than will God not use us as he did his Son, as a source of healing for others? “But he was wounded and crushed for our sins. He was beaten that we might have peace. He was whipped, and we were healed” (Isaiah 53:5, NLT, emphasis added). God will use all of our brokenness for His glory if we are available. For He is calling all Christians to love Him and His people the way He does. We need not wait; He is calling us right now!

While I know the land of confusion is not behind me--that there is uncharted spiritual territory to traverse--I boldly anticipate how God will lead me and, consequently, use me to lead his people. As Nouwen concludes, “The leader must first have the courage to be an explorer of the new territory in himself and to articulate his discoveries as a service to the inward generation.”