Vocation, Vocation, Vocation: Your Pathway to Immortality
When a person sets out to buy real estate, wisdom says the first rule guiding the selection of a good piece of property is: Location, location, location. When living one's life, wisdom's choice for a pathway to eternal life will be vocation, vocation, vocation.

Priests and nuns, monks and rabbis, sheiks and imams are not the only men and women with vocations. We all have one. Each of us receives a personal invitation from God to walk through life totally devoted, totally committed, totally in love with the Divine will.

The pay off? Eternal life. Actually it's eternal life with unconditional love as the cherry on top because everybody gets unconditional love whether or not they love Divine will. God can't deny himself, and he is love. But walking in his will guarantees peace in the midst of trials, and at the end of this physical existence, a heavenly one: Eternal life.

Oh. I like the sound of that! I do. It soothes and thrills me deep down to contemplate life beyond this one. Not because I want to escape or flee the "troubles of the world," mind you, I fully expect it's possible one is still somehow involved, somehow still caring about what happens in this troubled world of ours even after we've moved past its limitations.

No, I'm not interested in escaping into Heaven. But I do want to live forever. I want what happens in my life to be so significantly good, I want it to make such a positive contribution to a community and to the world that somehow my obedient effort earns me a life beyond death with God! That idea not only captures my imagination, it stirs my soul and it makes me want to live right, do more, and serve more valiantly. It makes me look at Jesus as my role model, and it actually get excited about picking up my cross. So pray with me while I speak awhile on "Vocation, Vocation, Vocation: You Pathway to Immortality."

Many might not be as miserably bold as I am and come out and admit that they really want to live forever. It's not considered very sophisticated these days to admit that one is taken with the idea of life continuing on in some way, shape, or form after death. It's considered at best a little naïve by many who would describe themselves as evolving believers. And perhaps it is. I really don't care. Because Jesus came preaching eternal life. He couldn't help it, of course. It was what he was born to do. It got him killed. But He preached it anyway:

"Then the king will say to those on his right hand, `Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me drink; I was a stranger and you took me in; I was naked and you clothed me; I was sick and you visited me; I was in prison and you came to me.'" [Matthew 25:34-36]

You see, there it is. And I'm hooked. And what must I do to have this wonderful second life? Make myself lovingly useful in this one. And to make his point crystal clear Jesus cloaks this vision of never-ending life with two parables about vocation, vocation, vocation. Two parables that speak about the great reward and the terrible loss that either crowns a person's life with fulfillment and exultation, or crushes them and their spirit with irrevocable failure and devastation.

In the parable of the talents [Matthew 25:14-30], a wealthy man gives three servants various sums of money in denominations called "talents." The servant who receives the most talents doubles them, another servant who receives two talents invests and doubles his lot, but the servant who receives only one buries his talent out of fear that he'll lose it or blow it or maybe even be accused of stealing it. So when the master returns, the servant gives it back to him just as it was given to him, never risked but never invested or multiplied either. He is called "wicked and lazy" and is soundly chastised for not even investing the talent with bankers so it could have at least collected interest.

Just for today let's let a talent be a talent: a gift, a special ability that you have, one you were born with.

What is yours?

What are you doing with it?

What am I doing with mine?

Actually I know very well what I'm doing with mine. I am putting all of my talents at the Lord's disposal these days, all of them. It is something I realized I must do after a brush with death a couple of years ago. This "second life" as I like to call it is pedal-to-the-floor for Jesus because that close call made me realize that as much as I thought I loved God, I had not fully accepted the invitation to be totally committed, totally devoted, totally in love with the Divine will. Facing death with the Lord, I realized that I could. So why not-as George Bernard Shaw's Saint Joan puts it-"Dare and dare and dare and dare until I die!"

Why not? What has one to lose? And look at all one has to gain!

God gave me a gift, a talent most precious, forty years ago. He invited me to walk through my life with him as a priest. For four decades I agreed with powerful others to keep that talent buried, but I'm digging it up now, dusting it off, shining it up, and I am investing it as I was meant to do. God has given me a talent for writing and I have given it back to him. It has become one of the ways he and I get to know each other, one of the ways his love can travel out into the world and feed it, fuel it, heal it, love it, and reveal the tiniest whisper of the mystery and wonder of life. I've seen it happen through plays I've written and films and articles and stories and poems.

This isn't always easy to arrange. Getting films and plays produced and a book published doesn't happen with the snap of the fingers unless you're a celebrity. It never has been easy. And it never will be to serve the Lord. And then people can oppose the effort itself, misunderstand your intentions or disagree with your methodology. They can despise you out of hand. This, too, has always been part of true service. Investment and great risk go together.

And then there are the critics. Dylan was right; "They'll stone you when you're trying to be so good."

If you are a teacher there are competency tests and accountability reviews. If you are a doctor there are malpractice suits. If you are a parent there are the terrible twos and the tumultuous teens, and the first, "I hate you!" scream. If you are a president there are the polls, and the welfare of a nation and the safety of the world riding on or sliding off your shoulders. If you are a truck driver, there is the family at home needing to eat and the family at home missing a father. If you are a priest there is the threat of pride and power dancing always around the torch of your love for God, threatening to use a flame meant for love to ignite a bonfire for the Self. Every vocation has its pitfalls.

In that same 25th Chapter of Matthew that encompasses Jesus' view of Judgement Day and the parable of the talents, there is one more parable of ten virgins carrying ten lamps for a wedding feast [Matthew 25:1-13]. Five run out of oil and brought no extra. Five were wise and brought some in reserve: they were that excited about going, that extra mile. They were that determined to fulfill their roles, that prepared to give and give.

And when their silly sisters begged them to share their oil, the committed women tried to explain that there was now only enough for five lamps to go the distance, because only five had really committed to doing so. Sharing the oil would mean all ten would fall short.

Have you got the oil? Can you give your life the gas? Can you go the distance and follow Christ, invest all that you are, all that God made you in your Christianity? Can you accept the invitation to be totally at Jesus' disposal, whatever he asks, wherever he leads?

I was surprised when my road grew steep recently. I shouldn't have been. Every Christian faces challenges. It is the nature of the walk. A spiritual director once told me that sooner or later, Christianity becomes counter cultural, just as our Lord moved counter to the dominant culture in his time. I forgave myself my shock over the depth and height of opposition I encountered, and kept on going, praying harder and leaning on the prayerful support of like-minded people.

Behind my surprise I discovered a fear, though, a fear that Jesus would lead me out into territory that was so new and different I might not find any familiar footprints to follow. And that's when another wise priest's advice came back to me with wisdom simple and profound. "Pray," he said to me before the world turned upside down, "Pray or you'll go off on your own and blow it. Pray and he'll guide you." And so he has and so he does and so he will.

How will you and I know, though? How will we have more than an inkling that we're on the right path? In the same deep well of Matthew 25, the kingdom-earners are well described by Jesus. We'll know we're on the right path because we will be feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, visiting the sick and the captive. In short, we'll be helping the world be better than it is.

All vocations have that one central purpose at their core: they help. And, shhhh, this is the tiptoe toward the immortality piece: When you help someone, by and by they help another. And that help begets help, and that compassion begets more compassion, love begets love, all of it with some of you and your work, and your vocation in it.

Most definitely, the bosom of God awaits us, my sisters and brothers, a face to face with God more glorious than words can tell. But even here on earth, eternal life begins in a lifetime surrendered to God that spreads his grace deeper and thicker in some way every day.
 

Interview with Delle Chatman
Interviewed by Lydia Talbot

Lydia Talbot: Delle, you are filled with the Spirit! There is joy and peace in your face. How did your struggle with cancer-with that "brush with death" as you put it-shape your own sense of calling and your will to live in this world in the form of a legacy for humankind?

Delle Chatman: I had no choice, Lydia, but to fall back into Jesus' arms. Ovarian cancer hits so suddenly and with no warning. I had been given a clean bill of health right before I was diagnosed. I just fell back into his arms. I saw myself as that paraplegic who had been lowered through the roof by friends who were praying for me, by my parishioners at St. Gertrude's who were praying for me. I just laid there at his feet and trusted that he would do what he knew was right. And from that moment on I also knew that whatever he wanted or asked of me, I would be glad to do for him. Not because I lived or survived but just to love him back. He was just so tender with me.

Talbot: You talk about calling and the sense of help. You talk about people who prayed for you. Isn't the knowledge that others are praying for you a critical part of the healing process?

Chatman: Absolutely! For one thing, it really shows you that you are part of a weave, you are part of a family, that you really are part of a community of God's children. And that community is not just here on Earth, it actually is also in the next life. You're really safe wherever you go!

Talbot: In the next life. You are intrigued with the idea of life continuing in some way, shape or form, but what about life continuing after death in the context of that which is of value in life? What is it for you?

Chatman: Love-given to family, given to friends, given to a stranger-is eternal. That's the currency, that's the key.

Talbot: That is a wonderful message to hold on to. Thank you.