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Ask Theophilus: Called By God — To What?

PITCH FOR SWITCH HITS GLITCH

Dear Professor Theophilus:

I'm at a vocational crossroads. Recently I earned an M.S. in electrical engineering. Since I began college, though, I've also been interested in apologetics and philosophy. I've done a lot of reading, taken a few classes, and taught introductory apologetics at my local church. My wife and I even moved near a seminary so I could work part-time in engineering while also studying there. My goal was to get an M.A. in philosophy, then work part-time as director of Christian education for a church as well as part-time in engineering.

For a while that went all right, but after my dad died, my wife and I moved back to my home state and moved in with my mom to be close to her. The new plan is going fairly well; we have a decent size house and my mom and my wife get along well. I plan to continue my degree through the seminary's distance education program.

A few days before we moved, though, my mentor at the seminary threw a wrench into the plan. He called me up and said he didn't think I should move at all, either for my sake or the school's. His reasons were that I was doing brilliantly, that I was a good influence on the rest of the students, and that he thought I ought to be a professor myself. He thinks I should aim higher than being a lay teacher, and envisions me becoming someone like him — a person who teaches hundreds of others to be lay teachers.

My family and friends think the professor line is a good one, and that working on switching devices the rest of my life seems pretty dull. Besides, part-time engineering jobs are hard to find; though I had one before, I haven't found one here. At least until this summer, my mom is willing to support us with the money from my dad's retirement, so that this spring I can try full-time study and see if I'm cut out for it.

On the other hand, I feel guilty about this possibility of a "call" to the academic life. After all, I have to provide for my wife and future kids, and being a professor is less financially secure than being an engineer. I also feel that I should be reading all the time, which taxes my relationship with my wife because it makes it difficult to relax and spend time with her. She doesn't work, but is going to be studying Latin and volunteering and helping with the house. Tonight she asked me if I could help with the dishes. I said no, because I thought my time would be of more use studying and her time doing all of the cleaning.

How can I know whether I could do well as a professor? How can I know whether my original career plan would be better? How should I deal with this guilt that I'm feeling? And how long should I go on living with my mother? Considering that she doesn't have any physical or financial needs right now, is that last question even important? Probably I need to be thinking about other questions too, so please tell me what you think.

Reply:

Let's start with the vocational questions. As I see it, there are two of them. One is about substance: Should you leave engineering and pursue further graduate study with a view to becoming a seminary teacher? The other is about process: Is it necessary or wise to make your decision about this right now?

The process question is easy. Vocational decisions should never be made abruptly. All right, all right, I make an exception in case of voices from burning bushes, but you haven't heard one of those. I can understand your seminary mentor's regret to see you leave — it will make his life less interesting — but frankly, he did you a disservice to throw you into turmoil at the last minute. Discerning the call of God requires time, reflection and experience. If God were telling you something that required an instant response, like "Get out of Dodge," I think He would have used extraordinary means to make clear that the message was really from Him.

Once that question is settled, the other question looks different. Actually, it's premature. Instead of asking whether you should change careers, you should ask whether you're in a position to decide. The answer is that you aren't — yet. Sure, compelling reasons for a change in career may accumulate, but they haven't; you haven't given them enough time. Consider: You've prepared for years to do engineering. Don't you think you should give it a chance before getting out of it? The fact that your friends and family think working on switching devices would be boring is irrelevant. They aren't the ones who would be working on them, and some people love that kind of work. It must have held some interest for you, or you wouldn't have gone into that field. If you're still worried about being bored, here's a test. Work at your profession full-time for a few years. If you're bored, you'll know it, and if you're not, you'll know that too. I'd give different advice to a freshman trying to choose between majors, because he doesn't have that option. He can't try out the work; he has to make a guess about whether he would like it. But you're not a freshman, you're a graduate, and you do have the option. So use it.

You feel guilty about considering a career change because professors make lower salaries than engineers. That needn't trouble you. Your family won't starve either way. On the other hand, you do need to think more seriously about three other things.

• The first: You're a fully-trained engineer, but only a half-trained teacher of apologetics.
• The second: As you've already discovered, you can teach at your church part-time, but you can't work as an engineer part-time.
• The third: If you do eventually go back to school, you'll need a good deal of savings, not only to pay tuition, but also to cover the interruption in income.

Taken together, what these three points tell you is "Stop trying to split yourself in half." Go ahead and work full-time as an engineer. For now, be content to teach at your church on a spare-time, volunteer basis; don't think of this as a way to earn your living, but as a way to continue to explore your other vocational possibility. In the meantime, save up as much money as possible from your engineering job, in case you do eventually decide to change careers.

At the end of your letter you gave me wide-open permission to advise you about other matters. I'll take it. I advise you in the strongest possible terms to stand up straight and take care of your family yourself. Don't expect your widowed mother to use up her savings to take care of you. She raised you, taught you, and put you through school; now you're a married man and a graduate, and it's your turn. At this stage, in your life and in hers, you should be thinking about how you can support her, not how she can support you.

One more thing: Go help your wife with the dishes. You write as though giving her a few minutes of your time would have wrecked your whole evening of study and upset the division of labor. Nonsense. It's fine that she's the housewife and you're the engineer, but she's helping you bear your burdens, and you need to help her bear hers. If you want to quote Ephesians 5 to me, go to it, but start with the 21st verse.

Peace be with you,
PROFESSOR THEOPHILUS

LADY POVERTY'S CALL

Dear Professor Theophilus:

Soon I will inherit a large sum of money. I am torn as to what I should do with it. I will certainly give a tithe to the church, but what about other 90 percent?

My parents and other older Christians I know tell me that the money is a blessing from God, and I should save it for myself for possible future expenses like graduate school, kids, house, or retirement.

I believe that I should live a simple life, use what I need, and give away what I do not need to those who are in need. I do not think things like retirement funds and savings accounts are biblical.

It seems wrong to store up money for myself when I could be using it to further the gospel of Jesus Christ right now, for example by supporting overseas missionaries.

Would I be foolish to give every bit of the money away?

Reply:

There is more confusion about money among Christians than almost any other topic. To find the answers to your questions, we need to recover some lost distinctions. Let's begin by describing two kinds of simplicity of life.

All Christians are called to what I'll call ordinary simplicity. It means putting our love and trust in God rather than in things; it means regarding ourselves as the stewards rather than as the owners of our possessions; and it means recognizing the dangers of excessive wealth. These attitudes imply certain behaviors. If we practice simplicity of life, then we will be generous toward others, especially toward the poor. We will use what we have to serve and honor God, not just to please ourselves. We won't selfishly pile up more than we need, we won't use our possessions to show off, and we won't covet or envy the possessions of others.

Some Christians are called to the more radical simplicity exemplified in lives like those of Francis of Assisi and Teresa of Calcutta. Traditionally this has been called holy poverty. For an example of such a call, read Matthew 19:16-22. A rich young man approaches Jesus to ask what good thing he must do to enter eternal life. We know from the other gospels that the young man is a "ruler" among the people, presumably a member of the nobility. Answering his question, Jesus tells him that there is only one who is "good," but that if he wants to enter life, he should keep the commandments. This seems too obvious; thinking that he must be missing something, the young man asks "Which?" Jesus recites several of the Ten Commandments, ending with the teaching of Leviticus 19:18, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."¹ The young man replies that he has always done those things, yet he knows that he still lacks something; what is it? From the other gospels we know that at this point, the heart of Jesus went out to the young man. So he extends to him a special call. He tells the young man that if he would be teleios — the word means "perfect," or better yet, "complete" — then he should give everything to the poor and follow Him; then he will have treasure in heaven. Unwilling to part with his riches, the young man turns away in sorrow. Jesus, who must also be sorrowing, remarks to His disciples that it is difficult for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.

You're right to believe in simplicity of life, but I think you're making several mistakes. One mistake is confusing the ordinary simplicity to which all are called with the radical simplicity to which some are called. If we pull scriptures about wealth out of context and interpret them carelessly, it's an easy mistake to make. A lot of theological errors arise that way. Compare these two passages:

"If any one comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple."²

"Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal."³

If you read the former passage carelessly, you might think that Jesus literally wants you to hate everyone but Himself — even your parents. No, His meaning is that you must love Him even more than them; otherwise, He would be contradicting the Scripture, "Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long in the land which the Lord your God gives you."⁴ In a similar way, if you read the latter passage carelessly, you might think that Jesus forbids owning literally anything — even a Bible. On the contrary, His words force you to think about what it means to lay up treasures on earth rather than in heaven; otherwise, He would be contradicting the Scripture, "Go to the ant, O sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise. Without having any chief, officer or ruler, she prepares her food in summer, and gathers her sustenance in harvest."⁵ Christ the Son never contradicts His Father's teaching. As He says Himself, "scripture cannot be broken."⁶

The mistake that I think you're making — confusing ordinary with radical simplicity — has cropped up more than once in Christian history. Much the same mistake has cropped up about chastity. Just because some people are called to consecrated celibacy, some people get the idea that every Christian is called to consecrated celibacy, and condemn people just for getting married. Just because some people are called to holy poverty, some people get the idea that every Christian is called to holy poverty, and condemn people just for having property. For all I know, you may be one of those who do have a call to holy poverty, but you shouldn't regard it as a duty for every Christian. It's a vocation.

To return to the business about laying up treasures on earth, you're also right that no Christian should selfishly pile up more than he needs. But have you carefully distinguished between selfish accumulation and godly stewardship? I don't think you have. For example, you assume without argument that it would be selfish and ungodly to save money for graduate school. But suppose the holy use of your God-given talents requires graduate training. I think you may already suspect this possibility. If that does turn out to be the case, how are you going to pay for it? You may say, "If God wants me to go to graduate school, then God will provide." I agree; if He does, He will. But how do you know that the inheritance isn't His way of providing? If it is, then giving the inheritance away would not glorify Him, and saying "God will provide" may be just your careless way of saying "My parents will provide." Now that really would be selfish.

I can hear your objection already. "Professor Theophilus, you admitted earlier that for all you know, I might be called not just to ordinary simplicity but to radical simplicity, to holy poverty. In that case, shouldn't I give up all my possessions?"

C O F F E E  S H O P

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What do you think should be done with the inheritance?

Join the discussion!

Yes, good point; in that case you should. Even so I would urge that you think two things through very thoroughly. The first is whether holy poverty really is your call. To find that out, you will have to reason more carefully than you have so far. The second is how holy poverty is lived. It's a lot more radical than what you defended at first. Besides, there is a long, long Christian history here, and you're trying to reinvent the wheel. One of the most important lessons that people called to holy poverty have discovered is that it's almost impossible to follow that call alone. Instead they live in communities of people who share the same vocation. These orders provide the stability, the support and the discipline which are necessary in such a demanding way of life. If you're serious about the possibility of a call to a life of holy poverty, check them out.

Peace be with you,
PROFESSOR THEOPHILUS

If you have a question you'd like Professor Theophilus to consider for this column, please send it to asktheo@trueu.org. Please note, all questions selected for "Ask Theophilus" may be edited for clarity and privacy, and become the property of Focus on the Family.