When you’re an adult, you get very used to answering the question “so, what do you do?” When you’re a kid, you have to deal with the same question, only in a future tense: “so, what do you want to be when you grow up?” My middle sister wanted to be a mommy; my youngest sister wanted to own Disneyland. Me, I never had a good answer. None of the things I liked doing seemed to translate into viable career options and, when you’re young, you just don’t know the breadth of options available to you. Thank goodness! If you did, you might be paralyzed for choice. When the world is your oyster, a queasy stomach is never far away. Then you get older, and the choices narrow down as you pursue various personal and professional paths; then you get older still, and the choices you’ve made come to their natural end or, sometimes, are forcibly taken away from you. And through all these changes, I imagine the vast majority of us are regularly thinking: Did I choose the Right Thing?
As Christians, we have an additional filter over this question. We aren’t just trying to please ourselves, care for our families, or contribute to society; we want, first and foremost, to be good stewards of the life that God has given us. When we wonder whether we’re doing the Right Thing, we mean the thing God has for me or the thing that best uses the gifts He’s given me or the thing he created for me, personally, to do. In my experience, this places an almost unbearable weight on my decisions. Not only do I have to use my best judgment, but I also have to supernaturally discern God’s hidden plan for me, personally, to make sure I’m not outside His mysterious will for my life. I don’t want to go off the path of good works prepared for me to walk in.
My problem—and perhaps yours, too—is that I assume there is only one Right Thing to do. In truth, while God sometimes does give us particular vocations for particular seasons, often what He offers instead is the freedom of choice. Take a look at the parable from which we get our idea of stewarding our lives (Matthew 25:14-30 or Luke 19:11-27). Whether entrusted with a lot of resources or a little, the servants in the story are given no other direction than to “do business” while their master is away. It’s up to them to decide what the master means by that. Nor does the master ask what they have done, only what the results are. He expects that his servants will know him and his business well enough to have an idea of what to do, but he’s not about to micromanage them. In fact, his criticism comes only when the servant, knowing what kind of man he is, chooses to do nothing—even putting the money in the bank to draw interest would have shown effort.
From context, we know this is a story teaching us how to behave in the kingdom while we wait for the king to return. We understand, even, that we must not be like the servant who wastes the opportunity to serve with what has been entrusted to him. But what we can often miss is that stewardship is not prescribed beyond being about the Master’s business.
What might this mean? Well, it certainly means looking after the lost and the least (see Matthew 25:31-46). It certainly means love of God and neighbor; it certainly means conformation to the likeness of Christ. The general calls, or vocations, that apply to all believers everywhere in every situation are the good works “prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them” (Ephesians 2:10). Whatever we do, we must hold our choices up to these standards. But beyond that, the Lord doesn’t usually give us specifics—not because He doesn’t care, but because He allows us to bring all the gifts He’s given us to bear on the situation. Including our judgment. Including our preferences. Because we know Him and our hearts are being remade in His likeness, we are able to make a good choice among many often equally good options.
When we are able to allow ourselves to believe the possibility there is no Right Thing and there may be many right things, we can truly be open to the work God is doing in our lives in every circumstance. There’s no need to feel like you’ve missed something you were supposed to do; in His sovereignty, He gives us the freedom to join Him in his creative work. And don’t worry: if there’s something particular He wants you to do: He’ll let you know.
