by Alan Goddard
A calling can be a dangerous thing. There are parts to it that seem so clear—the cause, the purpose, the altruism. Then, when we get into it, we realize there are parts we didn’t expect. Yet, when we embrace a calling, we embrace all of it, for there is no other way to do it. That’s how callings work.
A calling is a sure sense of how one should use one’s gifts and abilities to best participate in God’s kingdom. It expresses how a person’s heart longs to see “your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matt. 6:10). A calling is bigger than a job; indeed, one might do any number of jobs while carrying out a calling, and many do.
Most often, a calling is recognized at the intersection of a Christian’s spiritual gifts, longing for God’s glory, and passion about where the world needs to be made more whole. It’s how we consider ourselves able to contribute the greatest glory to God’s name until he returns. Those of us called to apostolic, “go and tell” ministry—“sent ones” as the word apostolos meant—have to swallow hard sometimes in embracing our calling.
At the beginning of 2 Corinthians, the Apostle Paul found himself reflecting on his calling. The misunderstandings and division between Paul and the church provided the impetus for his reflection. Right in the middle of painfully pleading with them to recognize his authority as an apostle, Paul began reflecting on his call. Personally, I like the older NIV rendering best:
But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him. For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life. And who is equal to such a task? (2 Cor. 2:14–16)
It’s as if while dictating the letter, Paul looked off into the distance and started to muse about all that his call required of him. Maybe trying to explain himself brought into relief the joy and the pain, the blessing and the sacrifice, and all the dishonor that came with it. I wonder if, at that moment, he felt tired.
Maybe that wasn’t the way it happened. I can only speculate. But it’s a profound statement of the calling of a “sent one.” In it, Paul declared the daunting nature of such an immense responsibility.
Learning Not to Quit
How do we fight for longevity in our calling? In my own life and ministry, I have seen how a clear understanding of the nature of this call is crucial for weathering the discouragements and setbacks that continually tempt us to put it down, walk away, and quit.
We all know it’s not easy to be called where we go. As a new missionary in my second month overseas, I noticed something bad happening. I had been elated for weeks, enjoying the honeymoon phase, but now it was getting hard. The weather was turning colder. Ministry seemed more and more like a grind.
I started worrying that something was wrong, so I went to my team leader and told him. He did what all good team leaders do: he laughed at me. Yes, that’s what I said—he laughed. Then he told me how that summer he had gone back for furlough to Southern California after years on location, and when talking to members at his home church, several of them remarked, “You have been there so long, you must really like it!” We both shook our heads at that misunderstanding.
No one goes to the mission field because it’s so pleasant. No one goes to the mission field to retire. No, we are called to something else.
On Display at the End of the Procession
In 2 Corinthians 2:14, Paul offered a telling description of the nature of the apostolic call: “But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere.”
He “leads us in triumphal procession.” What was Paul talking about? What immediate picture does that bring up for you? Perhaps you are like me. I usually get a picture of a Lakers victory parade with players rapping on the mic or a Yankees ticker tape parade after winning the World Series. But I don’t think that’s what Paul had in mind. In Paul’s thinking, the triumphal procession had a different meaning. There is an echo of it in 1 Corinthians 4:9-14:
For I think that God has exhibited us apostles as last of all, like men sentenced to death, because we have become a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men. We are fools for Christ’s sake, but you are wise in Christ. We are weak, but you are strong. You are held in honor, but we in disrepute. To the present hour we hunger and thirst, we are poorly dressed and buffeted and homeless, and we labor, working with our own hands. When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; when slandered, we entreat. We have become, and are still, like the scum of the world, the refuse of all things.
When Paul spoke of what it was like being an apostle in 1 Corinthians 4:1 (“This is how one should regard us”), there was a sense of triumph and of being captive. They are paradoxically the same. Paul saw his calling as one of triumph, for he was called in Christ, who has triumphed as the King. What higher privilege could there be but to be called by him? Yet it was also a calling of captivity, for he was a slave to Christ and a servant to those to whom he ministered (1 Cor. 4:5), with all the humiliation and low status that accompanied it.
In 1 Corinthians 4, Paul describes the calling of an apostle as being put in last place and made a spectacle to all. This likely refers to the image of the captives in a Roman victory parade. When a Roman general returned home with a victorious army after a campaign, he was legally required to stop before crossing the river and entering Rome.
The army was soon after allowed into the city with a lavish victory parade with the general at the head, followed by the triumphant soldiers. The last members of the procession were citizens of the conquered nation who would become Roman slaves or be sent into the arenas for the gladiator games to be killed.
The tension in Paul’s reflection is poignant. On the one hand, we are victors, redeemed and raised by Christ, who has conquered the world. We are without fear, citizens of Heaven, and ambassadors of the rightful King. On the other hand, we are slaves, joyful captives of Christ who nevertheless must bear humiliation in the eyes of the world and suffer for the sake of his name until he returns.
Paul describes the lot of an apostle as labor and dishonor, weakness and homelessness, persecution and slander. As we spread the fragrance of Christ, some receive it with joy and are saved, while others revile us for the stink. We are a spectacle, something someone looks at for entertainment, as if we were curiosities, some strange creatures who no one quite understands but who don’t really matter anyway. We are the scum of the earth—the garbage of the world.
This is the call of the “sent one.” This is the tension those in “go and tell” ministry feel day in and day out. You may be feeling it.
Maybe you’re a young pastor trying to plant a church who gets asked, “So all you do all week is sit in coffee shops?” Or maybe you are the spouse, unseen, constantly serving in the background, carrying the load for the family, and picking up the dropped balls. Or perhaps you’re the campus minister sitting alone in a Chick-fil-A because some oblivious freshman canceled on you five minutes before you were supposed to meet, leaving you wondering who your consulting firm buddy is meeting at The Capital Grill.
Or are you the missionary who had people call out, “Look at the foreigner!” when you walked by, assuming you couldn’t understand what they were saying? Maybe you’re the Bible translator whom the locals assume only moved to the village to have them help you find a husband. Feeling the calling, each one.
It’s not glamorous, this spot at the end of the procession. But this is the nature of the call. Apostles are not called to anything famous, popular, or trendy. They tend not to be liked except by those on whom their influence has been more profound than the world could ever know. Yet, called they are.
No wonder Paul would say, “Who is equal to such a task?”
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This article is an excerpt from the book Such a Task: Staying the Course in Your Calling as a “Sent One” by Alan Goddard. Alan Goddard (M.A.B.S., Reformed Theological Seminary) has served with Campus Crusade for Christ/Cru for more than 35 years in campus ministry both in the US and internationally. He lived for 15 years in East Asia, serving as a campus team leader and regional director, and has over 20 years of experience in coaching and training missionaries. Such a Taskis available on Amazon and CruStore.org.
