The Reflective Eclectic
How I Found My Calling and How Moses Found His
In this Passover season, I’ll undertake something I wouldn’t recommend to anyone: comparing myself to Moses. We have a few things in common. We both found our calling. If you’ve been looking for yours, you might benefit from hearing how we found ours.
You probably know the story of the early life of Moses (Exodus 2:1–4:20). He’d been raised a privileged adopted son in the Pharaoh’s household. After committing murder, he couldn’t escape the death penalty; so, he fled to the desert country of Midian, got married, and settled down. There, he encountered a burning bush that sent him on his calling.
I was no pharaoh’s grandson; but, compared to the rest of the world, you could say I was privileged. I often suspected I was secretly adopted, as Moses may have. I never committed murder, but in high school class, when a teacher asked everyone to raise their hands if they loved mankind, every hand shot up but mine and that of my friend, Dave. Ironically, Dave did some humanitarian work for the UN, and I become a therapist. I don’t know how Dave found his calling, but I know how I found mine.
After high school, I sojourned into a desert of my own, built a cabin in the most remote part of New York State, settled in with my books, and thought I had escaped the world. My wife and I got involved with a church; rather, she got involved, and I came along. One day, the pastor called on us and asked me if I would join his visitation team to help him provide pastoral care to the sick and lonely.
Me? I said, you’ve got to be kidding.
He said I’m not.
I said no way.
He said, pray about it for a couple of weeks.
I said, sure I will. Anything to get him out of the house.
A few days later, I was with my family at a restaurant and an old Veteran with no legs wheeled himself over and started talking as if he would never leave. He had nothing important to say; he just wanted company. I brushed him off and got out of the restaurant without hearing about all his aches and pains, political opinions, and relations that never came to see him. There was only one problem.
Afterward, I felt guilty.
When the pastor returned, I told him, yes, I would join his visitation team; not because I would be good at it, but because it was the only thing that could make me human.
Visitation eventually evolved into a counseling practice of over thirty years. I discovered that, not only did it make me human, but it was also a good use of my book learning and my being an oddity.
Getting back to comparing myself to Moses, you can see some parallels. He committed murder; I had contempt for humankind. We both fled to our deserts and married. He had his Burning Bush. I had my pastor. He stuttered and told the Burning Bush he could never speak in public. I was a recluse and could never visit the sick and lonely. Neither his Burning Bush nor my pastor took no for an answer. He had a miracle. I had a tardy compassion towards a garrulous guy in a wheelchair. Both our callings sent us back to the source of our guilt. He, a murderer, became a lawgiver. I, a misanthrope, invited people to tell me about their problems. When Moses went to Pharaoh to say, let my people go, his privilege gave him access. I had access to an education and the credibility of a license. When he led the Hebrews, he found his tribe. I also found mine.
If you’re looking for your calling and can’t seem to find it, you may look in the wrong place. Both Moses and I found ours where we least suspected it. It was not toward our strengths but towards our weakness. It sent us to do something we did not want to do. Moses’ calling made him great. Whether mine will make me great, we’ll have to see. But when we followed our callings, we didn’t do so because it would make us great. We did so because it would make us human. I think that’s always our calling, no matter who we are. You, me, and Moses are called upon to be human. Luckily, that’s one thing we all know how to do; sometimes it’s the only thing.
Keith R Wilson is a mental health counselor in private practice and the author of three self-help books, three novels, and innumerable articles. His third novel, Who Killed the Lisping Barista of the Epiphany Café? is currently being published one chapter at a time in Medium.
