The “Call”

Did you ever get the “call”?

In the Mission Impossible franchise, agents receive their instructions from common everyday items delivered to them.  My favorite and the one I remember the most was a tape recorder.  The agent would queue the recording, listen, and then decide.  Each message ended with: “Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is . . .”  Then the message would destroy itself within five seconds.  At that point the agent had received the “call”.

 

In the Matrix science fiction trilogy, the main character (Neo) receives his call from a cell phone that he receives.  The phone connects him to an individual who offers him the opportunity to learn more about the Matrix.  Later he is confronted by the caller and given the choice to live life as he is living it (the blue pill) or learning about the Matrix (red pill).  He chooses by picking the pill that represents his choice.  At this point Neo has received the ”call”.

 

In the Old Testament Moses receives the call one day while he is out tending to the sheep herd.  He stumbles upon a burning bush that talks to him.  The voice wants Moses to pick up his staff and become the leader of God’s exiled people in Egypt . . . to lead them to a Promised Land.  Of course, Moses has a ton of questions for the voice and wants proof that the voice is who it says it is.  In the end, the choice is given to Moses.  Thus he receives his “call”.

 

In the Gospels—well at least a couple of them—Jesus receives his call and confirms it by going and getting baptized.  God rubber stamps the invitation with a heavenly chorus and a descending dove from the heavens.  Then the Jesus struggles with the “mission” as he heads out into the wilderness to struggle for forty days and nights.  He comes out of the wilderness accepting his “call”.

 

In Nikos Kazantzakis’ book, The Last Temptation of Christ, the “call” is a little more dramatic.  The book opens with a dream sequence with Jesus running through the darkness and there is the sound of footsteps pursuing him.  Jesus runs, but the footsteps continue to gain.  Eventually he is overtaken . . . he has received his “call”.

 

In the Epistles, the Apostle Paul gets knocked off his ass—figuratively and literally.  Being a persecutor of Christians, Saul is on the way to Damascus to do a little prosecuting.  As he is riding, he is blinded by a brilliant light and falls to the ground.  A voice speaks to him, confronts him, and offers an invitation to him . . . a “call”.  As the story goes, he is cared for as he regains his sight and starts his ministry.

 

A “call” is a request or demand . . . an offer.  When talking about faith, for those who engage in ministry, a “call” is that moment in one’s life when it becomes clear that God is asking that person to serve in some sort of service.  Having retired from the active ministry as an ordained clergy, I can vouch that knowing and understanding one’s “call” is a prevalent topic for those who profess faith.  When it comes to faith, a “call” is important stuff.

 

Jed, like his father, was a farmer.  One day he is out plowing his fields when he looks up to the sky and notices that the clouds looked like two letters . . . a “P” and a “C”.  This struck him peculiarly and convinced himself that it was a message from God.  The message?  To “preach Christ”.  Feeling that this was a “call” from God to go into the ministry, Jed sold the farm, enrolled in seminary, and began his studies to become a minister preaching Christ.

 

Seminary was tough, but he stuck it out.  At the end of the first year, he was called into the office of the seminary’s dean.  His grades were not good.  After being welcomed by the dean, the dean asked Jed how he ended up in seminary.  Of course, Jed explained his “call” from God while he was out plowing his fields.  The dean listened and then thought.

 

“Jed,” said the dean, “I have no doubt that God spoke to you.  But I think you misinterpreted the message.  Where you thought those letters of “P” and “C” were telling you to “preach Christ”, did you ever think that maybe God was trying to tell you to “plant corn”?

 

I appreciate Joseph Campbell.  I was exposed to Campbell from watching Bill Moyer’s PBS documentary on the man in 1987.  Campbell made a lot of sense to me especially when he talked about people finding their purpose or meaning in life.  He called it their “bliss”.  I would say it is one’s “call”.  He stated that it was a journey of a lifetime. 

 

“Follow your bliss.

If you do follow your bliss,

you put yourself on a kind of track

that has been there all the while waiting for you,

and the life you ought to be living

is the one you are living.

When you can see that,

you begin to meet people

who are in the field of your bliss,

and they open the doors to you.

I say, follow your bliss and don’t be afraid,

and doors will open

where you didn’t know they were going to be.

If you follow your bliss,

doors will open for you that wouldn’t have opened for anyone else.”

(Joseph Campbell)

 

I believe that God or Creator or that Higher Power calls all of us to a purpose.  That purpose is to discover who you are and to be the best “you” that “you” can be.  To discover your bliss . . . your “calling”.  And a big part of that calling is to love . . . to love yourself . . . to love others.  The good ol’ Golden Rule to “love and you would want to be loved.”  If we could learn to accept ourselves as we have been created . . . to love ourselves, well we would be on the road to heavenly kingdom on earth that so many religions speak about.  Campbell says it this way: “We’re not on our journey to save the world but to save ourselves.  But in doing that you save the world.  The influence of a vital person vitalizes.”

 

So, we all have a “call”.  Some of us may get that call in some spectacular way like on Moses, Jesus, or Paul.  We might get it through some creative way like Mission Impossible or the Matrix.  It is different for each of us because none of us were created the same.  Whatever the case, we all have a “call”.

 

As much as I wanted a spectacular “call” like Moses, Jesus, or Paul . . . it never happened.  I had no burning bush that spoke to me, though several times in my life I have almost burnt down our house’s deck when the grill caught fire.  It was spectacular, but the only voice I heard was my frantic swearing at my stupidity.  Nor did the heaven open, heavenly choirs sing, or doves descend at my baptism . . . I just got soaked.  I’ve never been blinded by the light and knocked off my ass . . . been knocked on it, but never off it.  I think at my age it ain’t going to happen.  Nope, with perfect 20/20 hindsight I have come to the conclusion that my “call” has been more subtle and a life-long journey.  It has not been a revelatory epiphany.  It has been more of a “oh, that makes sense” sort of adventure.  The process or journey has been the “call”.  It has always been there; I just haven’t always been listening.

 

I think that we humans have a tendency to get hung up on “terms” and only associating those terms with parts of life.  For example, “ministry”.  Granted most people understand “ministry” to be a religious idea or practice . . . and, it is.  It is when one grounds it in terms of “call”.  Remember I said that I believe all of us have a call from whatever you want to name your Higher Power or God.  That “call” is living one’s life to best the best that we have been created to be.  In that way, the actual living of our lives becomes “ministry” . . . the way we treat ourselves, the way we treat others, the striving for the best for every of the Creator’s creations.  Living life is “ministry” and how we live it is our “call”.

 

In my lifetime I do not feel that I received a particular “call” . . . especially when it comes to the fact that I spent over 40 years of my life as a minister.  Looking back with perfect 20/20 hindsight, I cannot find a moment or moments in which I had an earth-shaking epiphany from the Holy calling me to come and serve.  I always point back to that time in elementary school in which I had to write a paper about three things I wanted to be when I grew up.  The first two things were a piece of cake is choosing—a career in the Air Force and a special education teacher.  The third one was a stumper.  Finally, my mother told me to put the first thing that came to my mind.  Where “minister” came from, I do not know, but that is what I put down on that paper.  It made for a good story.

 

All my life has revolved around people and the relationships I had and have with them.  Whether it was in the ministry, working at a university, being a mental health counselor, parent, or spouse . . . it was people and relationships that formed my path through life.  Ministry was a good platform, but so are all the aspects of my life.  It came down to how I related to others and myself . . . to love myself and others as I love myself.  The career, job, or ministry is just the tool for me to accomplish this “call”.  Though the tools might have changed over the years, the purpose never has . . . love.    

We all receive a “call”.  Just as unique as we are created, odds are that our “calls” are too.  But we received it.  As I continue to understand my “call”, I am continually amazed that it is affirmed through the love that I continue to discover from myself and others.  That is the bottom line . . . love.  The Creator calls us to love . . . always to love. It is the foundation of all religions . . . foundation of life and everything we do.  As the Beatles sang, “And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”  Sounds like a good way to live life.  Sounds like a “call” to me . . . plus it never self-destructs . . . not in five seconds . . . never.

 

What’s in a Name?

I think about names.  Names can be pretty powerful stuff.  Stuff that reveals to others who a person is . . . what a person is made of . . . the pure essence of understanding another.  Names are supposed to mean something about us as individuals . . . about us as families.  Names are pretty important; so, every-so-often, I think about names.

First, I guess I should explain my fascination with names.  It all began with Moses.  You know Moses . . . the guy in the Old Testament who was left by the Nile River by his mother when the Pharaoh had declared a decree against all the male babies born to the captive Israelites . . . the guy who was raised by Pharaoh’s family after Pharaoh’s daughter found him floating on the Nile River . . . the guy who flees Egypt after killing an Egyptian for beating on an Israelite . . . the guy who runs off to become a shepherd for his future father-in-law . . . and, the guy called upon by God to return to Egypt to free the Israelites—God’s people—from their bondage . . . the guy who leads the Israelites through the wilderness for forty years and never gets the opportunity to enter into the Promised Land of God despite being within spitting distance of it.  You remember Moses.

Well, Moses was not stupid.  He knew the power of names.  When he encounters God one day at a burning bush he pushes God to the limit to give him information so that the people would believe that God had actually spoken to him.  The information he wants from God is a name . . . what is God’s name?  Moses understood the power of names and how they described the essence of the person or deity.  A name gave another all the information that he or she needed to be known.  So, Moses wanted God to give him a name that he could tell the people.

The only problem is that God was smarter than Moses.  Finally God concedes to Moses and give him a name.  God tells Moses that the name that God goes by is YHWH (or YahWeh).  YHWH means “I am who I am.”  That was God’s name . . . YHWH . . . I am who I am.  Of course, this floors Moses . . . what in the world is that supposed to mean . . . I am who I am?  Unfortunately for Moses, God did not pull any punches and laid it out there for Moses . . . God is who God is . . . God can be whatever God needs to be . . . God is God.  YHWH says it all while saying nothing at all.  Moses was floored when God trumps him with God’s name.

Names have power.  Names tell us about people.  Tells us characteristics about people.  Tells us who they are.  Gives us the essence of their identity.  For example, take the name of Moses.  Moses, in Hebrew (which he was), can mean “deliver” or to “draw out”.  That was the role of Moses in the Exodus story.  Moses was the one who would deliver God’s children to the Promised Land . . . he was the one who “drew out” the people of God from their captivity.  Pretty impressive that his mother named him that without knowing what the future would hold for him.  So, names have power to describe us to others.

The other day I had business at one of the schools near Crow Agency.  Crow Agency is the main community of the Crow Reservation.  I had to go to a nearby school and do hearing rescreens for the Montana Hearing Conservation Project.  While there I was given a list of kids that I needed to test their hearing.  Fifty-eight of the last names of these children were what many would classify as being “Native”.  These names were wonderful . . . lyrical . . . beautiful in their description . . . and, revealing as they described the child and their family ancestry.  To say the least, as I went down the list and met the kids, I was in awe of the power of their names . . . actually, I was jealous.

Jealous because they had these wonderful names.  Names like: Otter Robe; Old Horn; Bad Moccasin; Elk Shoulder; Rides the Bear; Not Afraid; Old Coyote; Yellow Robe; Pretty on Top; Walks Over Ice; Pretty Weasel;  Bear Cloud; Rides the Horse; Spotted Eagle; Takes Enemy; Hugs; Old Crow; and, Little Light.  Of course, these were last names . . . for the most part their first names were pretty common.  But those last names got the imagination going and stirred up a little jealousy on my part . . . I wanted a cool last name.  A name that would explain to everyone who I am . . . that would share the essence of who I am.  Keener just doesn’t seem to quite hack it when it comes the names of these Native American kids.

Keener means “a person who is extremely eager, zealous, or enthusiastic”.  It also means a person who displays this eagerness, zeal, or enthusiasm with social inadequacy, sycophancy, or natural ability.  I am pretty sure that this does not describe me.  No one would ever vouch for me as being “eager, zealous, or enthusiastic.”  That is not me.  I am not the first to raise his hand in class . . . not the first to volunteer . . . not the first to lead an uprising.  Nope . . . no one is going to describe with those words.  But . . . and, this is a big but . . . there are a lot of folks would say that I am inadequate when it comes to social skills.  On the end of the Urban Dictionary’s definition of “keener”—which they refer to a “keener” as in the same classification as a nerd, geek, brown-noser, or smarty pants—there are many would probably agree.  This is not the way that I envision myself as a person . . . nor is it the way that I want people to think of me.  I think my name is way off base.

Yet, that is what I have to deal with.  And, over the years, people have run with it.  The greatest pun play on my last name growing up was, “Keener Weiner”.  Or the tiresome, “Who you keener than?”  That was when people would accept the fact that “Keener” was really my last name . . . others thought it was a nickname.  There is nothing cool about being named “Keener”.  As a kid there were days l longed for a different last name . . . something cool . . . something like the names of those Native American kids I met.

I guess I should be thankful that my first name is a little cooler when it comes to meaning.  “John” is a biblical name derived from Hebrew that means “the grace or mercy of the Lord.”  One description of the names states that those who are named “John” have a deep inner desire for a stable, loving family or community, and a need to work with others and to be appreciated.  That is pretty cool . . . I guess.  Yet, at the same time, “John” is a another name for a toilet . . . a crapper.  The truth is that I was named after my father.  I will admit that there are parts of me that are regular old chips off the block that was my father . . . some good, some bad . . . but, none the less indicators of who I am.  There was really nothing special about being named “John”.  I still caught all of the toilet jokes . . . still got all the “Dear John letters” . . . and, put up with the “John-boy” references.  Not quite the same as Knows Gun or bear Cloud or Little Light.

Same goes for my middle name . . . Martin.  Shoot for the first fifteen years of my life I couldn’t even spell my middle name correctly . . . kept spelling it “Martian” . . . yeah, I was a strange kid growing up.  Turns out, when looking up its meaning, that I was probably pretty close to its meaning when I couldn’t spell it right.  Martin means, in English, “warrior of Mars”.  In Spanish it means “warring”.  Same with the American meaning.  People with this name have a deep inner desire to use their abilities in leadership, and to have personal independence.  They would rather focus on large, important issues, and delegate the details.  They are creative and excellent at expressing themselves.  They are drawn to the arts, and often enjoy life immensely. Like attention.  Enjoy careers that put themselves in the limelight.  Tend to get involved in many different activities, and are sometimes reckless with both their energies and with money.

I have to admit that Martin has points where it fits.  Yet, Martin does not strike fear in people; nor does it render itself to easy interpretation.  The only “warrior from Mars” I am even aware of is Marvin the Martian from Warner Brother’s Looney Tunes cartoons.  I am not green.  I am not from outer space.  And, I am far from being a warrior.

Nothing about my name is impressive . . . John Martin Keener.  Sounds like some geeky religious person . . . hey, that is what some people truly think I am since I am a minister.  This is getting scary.  Hitting close to home.  Yet, it still is not some cool name that describes me without a whole lot of thinking.  I really want a cool Native American name that would let people know the essence of me without having to scour the Internet or pulling out the Oxford English Dictionary.  I want a name that people get a visual image that describes me.  “Keener” just does not hack it . . . geek, nerd, brown-noser, or smarty pants.

If I could choose my own name, what would it be?

Well, I imagine would say something along the lines of “Old Balding Man” . . . that is descriptive of me since I am getting old and am folicly challenged.  I have been called “Four Eyes” because I wear glasses, but a more accurate name might be “Four Eyes to the Third Power” since I wear trifocals.  Some would probably vote for the name of “Smart Ass” since I like to kid so much.  Others might cast a vote for “Spreads in the Middle” as everything seems to have gone south on my body.  I imagine that as I get older there will be those who might refer to me as “Breaking Wind”.  I guess if I asked some of my Native American friends they would probably tell me that “Silly White Man” would fit. 

That is the problem.  Names mean something.  Surprisingly . . . with dumb luck or karma . . . most of our names fit us as individuals.  When I look at the names of all of my children, the wife and I are amazed at how much the names we chose for our children fit them.  Shoot, despite not wanting to admit it, even the names that I have fit me to a certain extent . . . whether I can spell them or not.  If someone was to take the time and actually look up my name I can picture them shaking their heads, saying, “Yeah, I can see that.”  And, they should know.

My name might not be cool . . . but, it does describe me to a point.  My name might not be as powerful as other names . . . but, that is the name people know me by.  My name might not sound as cool as other names . . . but it is my name.  I have taken a lifetime to learn how to spell it and I am used to it by now.  That’s how God knows me . . . at least it is how I hope God knows me . . . and, that is good enough for me.  Oh, sure, there will be those moments when I wish I had been named something else; but in the end, I am John Martin Keener . . . “grace of God” . . . “warrior from Mars” . . . and, somewhat “eager, enthusiastic, and zealous”.  What more could I be known for?  There’s power in that name . . . at least, there will be when I find it. If it worked for Moses, it can work for me.