I had the privilege of working for United Parcel Service while in college.  I enjoyed the work immensely and found myself promoted to the bottom rung of the management ladder.  I was introduced to the inner workings of the company; I knew a lot of what happened “behind the curtain.”  I was intrigued by what I discovered and quickly found ways to be a contributing factor.

I attained my bachelors degree and informed my superiors it was time for me to leave the company.  Because of a few accomplishments the Lord had allowed me to achieve, upper management really went out of their way to retain me.  I was flattered, but even though the employment offer would have immediately doubled my salary with guarantees of doubling it again within a few years, I knew working for UPS was not an option for me.

A few months earlier my superior’s superior took time out of his day to laud the benefits of staying on with the company.  One financial incentive after another rolled off his tongue.  Promises of being able to pursue my graduate education at company expense were added for good measure.  Then he said something off-hand that arrested my heart. 

“You gotta know, however, that every manager here is a polygamist.”

“How’s that?” I replied, thinking his odd statement was a lead in to a joke.

“Well, you’ll have the little lady at home and you would have ‘Mrs. Brown.’  You got to keep them both happy.”

I knew exactly what he meant: If I took the promotion, I would have to “marry” the job.

Po Bronson, in What Should I Do with My Life relates an anecdote about the ubiquitous ice-breaker question, “What do you do?”  The question is as if value is associated only with our occupation, our job.  No one ever asks the opening question, “What kind of person are you?” or “What kind of family are you part of?”  We want to know first what people do and then privately make assumptions about who they are.

Since I am the eldest son of a groceryman, I believe I can speak with authority to this idea.  While my father knew nearly everything needed to be know about the grocery business, his occupation was not his vocation.  Dad was not defined by his job.  Dad is defined through relationships, particularly the relationship he found with God as a young adult.

The word “vocation” actually is a great-grandchild of a word meaning “to summon.”  It’s earliest recorded usage in the English language dates back to 1426 and references God’s special call upon a person to enter into His service.  It is my firm belief that every human stands to gain by responding to the promise of vocation.  It matters less what we do, much more whose we are.

My friends at Main Street will be considering this question this upcoming week.