A 2005 graduate of Virginia Tech takes us on his vocational ride, sharing questions and concerns about God, vocation, and careers.

After college I set off to hike the Appalachian Trail from end to end. During the 2,000-mile, six-month journey, I hoped for a revelation, a real Damascus-road moment, where God would lean out from behind the clouds and tell me what to do with my life.

Instead, I was awakened one morning at the crack of dawn by a fellow hiker who, as some do, liked to begin a morning in the great outdoors by belting out a couple of show tunes. I was pulled out of sleep by the following lyrics from Les Miserables:

When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

It was followed by some ironic early-morning applause.

The lyrics are a more romantic (and perhaps a more militant) echo of Frederick Buechner's definition of vocation — "The place where your deepest gladness meets the world's greatest need" — and as my hike progressed I began to think that a reminder on the essence of vocation from a musical hiker was all the revelation God was going to give.

At this point I believe God has done all that God will do in helping me find a vocation. The church has also done all it can do in aiding my discernment, and the next steps down the road are mine to take. However, I think that the way I take those steps may have to change.

Closed Doors
Here is where the road has led me so far. I spent my entire high school career carefully constructing the perfect Naval ROTC application. My reasons? Typical — see the world, serve the nation, get a free college education. My efforts were rewarded with a full scholarship, but a medical disqualification kept me out of the military, and that door slammed shut.

Trying to figure out what else to do, I majored in Ocean Engineering, a ship-design curriculum, at Virginia Tech. I thought if I couldn't be in the Navy I could at least work for it.

I got a great education. But my attitudes changed, and when I got to my junior year in college I wasn't so sure that I wanted to work in defense anymore. Because there is no commercial shipbuilding in the United States, I was stuck with few options, none of which was especially appealing.

So my vocational crisis began. In the end, I did take a job with a shipyard building ships for the U.S. Navy as a structural engineer. It is a good job for a new engineer, if not necessarily my calling. It is a stable platform from which to work toward something else, whether in engineering or not, if that is what I decide to do.

When I arrived at a point of vocational crisis in college, the church was there for me. I owe much to the campus ministry at Virginia Tech, where my faith grew by leaps and bounds. Campus ministry fostered a faith that is, I believe, well suited to discernment. It is a faith reflective enough to dig deep into the soul, supple and evolving, strong and patient. Campus ministry provided an environment where all were welcome to explore their faith and to let it grow. We were encouraged to ask questions and not sidestep the answers. Because one's future career is never far from the minds of college students, vocation had a focus and immediacy it may not have in the greater church.

Vocational Box
The entire resources of the church were put at my disposal as I began to discern. Pastors became mentors, and I spent hours postulating in their offices about where I thought my vocation might lie. I reflected on sermons and book studies as I walked around campus. I was exhorted to be patient, to listen to God.

What more can the church do than this? Yet after a long process of discernment, I have yet to find my occupational calling. Part of the reason may be that I am not courageous enough to sacrifice a little stability to get on a different sort of career path, to take those steps of faith that may lead to my finding a vocation. Part of the reason may also be that I have been approaching vocation more as a problem to be solved than as a journey to be taken. Looking at vocation in this way has made me into a chess master studying pieces arrayed on the board rather than a piece of clay God can mold over time. As "master of my own destiny," I have tried to dream up a job that suits a particular definition, and I have thought myself into a box.

Open, Willing Heart
With all due respect to Buechner and the cast, crew, and writers of Les Miserables, it may be better just to ask people to find something they love, or at least enjoy, doing. If people try to keep Christ at the center of their lives, discern patiently as they go, and listen for the voice of God, the rest should take care of itself. Opportunities abound to mesh one's passions with the world's needs; one needs only a courageous, confident faith to make the most of them when they arise. I also think that people who are satisfied with their work are more likely to work toward the glory of God outside the office: to share a meal, build a house, help the poor. Some of the most important of God's work is done by willing volunteers.

The hiker on the Appalachian Trail could have made things simpler for me. She could have just said "Do what you love." For those of us trying to live Christo-centric lives, the rest will surely follow. As for me, it may be best to let the complexity of debate fall away, give up the reins, open my heart, and really begin the journey.

Nick Marickovich graduated from Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University (otherwise known as Virgina Tech), of Blacksburg, Virginia, in 2005 with a degree in ocean engineering (ship design) and a minor in history. He works with Northrup Grumman, of Newport News, Virginia, in structural engineering. Nick participated in the Lutheran campus ministry while at university.