After graduating from college in North Carolina, I spent several years living in Colorado before enrolling in classes at a Bible college in Florida. While I found the lessons inspiring and spiritually challenging, some of the conversations with other students made me tilt my head sideways in bewilderment.

It wasn’t uncommon for someone to walk up and ask, “What is God’s calling on your life?” The question always made me feel like tourist without a map. 

After stammering for a few moments without any real reply, I’d turn the question around on the interrogator, “What’s God’s calling on your life?”

Without hesitation, the person would tell me they were going to be a lead pastor, worship leader, or launch a ministry. I was intrigued and impressed. The responses that left me the most bewildered were from young women who proclaimed that God had called them to be a pastor’s wife.

“Wow, that’s awesome!” I’d reply. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I’m not dating anyone, but I know God will bring the one.”

“That’s great,” I’d affirm, secretly wondering what the young woman was going to do if God tarried.

To this day, I still don’t know whether the cause was the demographics of the student population or the culture of the campus, but it seemed like God had spoken to almost everyone I met on one or both of two main issues: who they were going to marry and the worldwide ministry they were called to launch. I don’t remember anyone who ever felt like God called them to singleness or to simply serve in the local church without an impressive job title.

God had never spoken to me specifically about marriage or ministry, so I felt out of the loop. Maybe I wasn’t praying hard enough. Maybe I wasn’t listening long enough. Maybe God was calling me to something completely different, and my dream job of working as a quality control taster at Godiva was still in his plan.

Living in a God-speaks-greatness-into-everyone environment can lead to a lot of self-doubt when God isn’t speaking to you. I began to wonder, God, have you forgotten me? Do you still have a plan for me? Am I doing something I shouldn’t be doing or not doing something that I should? I felt confused and misplaced.

That’s when I was introduced to one of those foundational passages that keeps me from playing hooky in my relationship with God. It’s been like a spiritual anchor for me—an ancient crusty truth that sinks hard and fast into my soul. As I prayed about my internal turmoil one morning, I was introduced to John 21, a section of scripture I had read many times before but never the same way. The passage describes a memorable breakfast on the beach with the already-resurrected Jesus and his followers. Simon Peter and his friends are fishing when a familiar voice yells out to them to place their nets on the other side of the boat. Against their better judgment, they follow the advice of the landlocked man and find their nets snapping under the weighty catch. In the midst of the excitement, Simon Peter is informed that the stranger is Jesus. Throwing on a shirt, he belly flops into the water and swims to shore as fast as he can.