We go through this same taste-training with other things in life, from fine wine to classic opera to sports. Not many of us are born loving the finest and most complex things—Pinot Noir doesn’t trigger the same taste response as Pepsi, and Verdi isn’t as accessible as eighties rock. Even as adults, we fail to give due credit to things we don’t understand or haven’t taken the time to learn about. During the last Winter Olympics, I realized my lack of appreciation for the complexity of some of the sports, one of which was curling. Now, I know nothing about curling and would not bother to watch it on my own, but I was with someone who understood the sport and could explain why the curlers were barking at each other and what the furious sweeping of the ice with brooms was all about. On another occasion I was watching figure skating with someone who actually had skated and could tell the difference between a triple and quadruple axel. While I can appreciate figure skating even as an uninformed spectator, I cannot spot a quadruple axel.
Turning our appreciation to these less accessible things—spending time learning about their characteristics and the qualities that distinguish them—is a gratifying experience that introduces us to new types of enjoyment. Some are more worthwhile than others, and curling still isn’t at the top of my list. But there is nothing more profoundly satisfying than getting to know what God is like and appreciating more deeply the way He interacts with us.
Understanding Life As a Set of Callings Provides Balance
Callings don’t fit on a time sheet. This isn’t about forty hours a week; it’s about all-the-time overtime. In some seasons of life, paid work may be among our callings, but it won’t be our only calling. The whole fabric of our lives is made up of callings from God—family, relationships, friendships, community connections, and civic responsibilities. That perspective is an important one to have on either side of “I do,” so the sooner we learn it, the better.
If we recognize that callings include an entire network of relationships, responsibilities, and opportunities in life, we will be more likely to keep work in proper balance with the rest. “One can take a job seriously precisely because one does not take it too seriously,” observes ethicist William F. May.
Understanding this also helps to avoid the trap of workaholism. Work-hours can easily bleed into the evening when there isn’t a family at home to make us observe the dinner hour. Working hard is one thing, but when a job begins to edge out other priorities and relationships, that’s a problem. Of course, we rarely intend to let a job consume the rest of our lives, but this can easily begin with the lofty but mistaken view that a particular employment or cause is one’s sole calling from God and that all else in life should take a backseat to it. A single job is never the whole of one’s callings.