On how a call actually sounds
I asked Jacob to take me back to the beginning — to the moment when he first thought he might be called to ministry. What he described was a junior high school kid serving as an acolyte in Yuma, Arizona, in the dead of summer. Half the congregation had fled the heat. He and his brother were at the table almost every Sunday, and somewhere in that ordinary, understaffed faithfulness, he heard something.
"That still, small voice," he said, "that you know is not your own."
He went to the interim priest and told him. The priest gave him the full checklist — finish junior high, finish high school, college, the bishop will want you to work, then seminary — which is the ecclesiastical equivalent of bless your heart. Jacob knew he was being blown off. And something in him went quiet about it.
That didn't surprise me. I had nearly the same experience. I went to my pastor — young, confused, no ministry pedigree, no one in my family who had ever done anything like this — and he handed me the same list. What was left unspoken was: I'm not sure you're the type. It's a strange thing, to carry a call that no one around you can quite see yet…