A Calling in Communication
Sometimes we think of a calling as something God asks us to do. Write a book. Teach a class. Preach a sermon. Sing a song. Start a ministry. Speak to an audience. But I've been thinking about calling differently lately.
Perhaps a calling isn't just about what we do. Perhaps a calling is also about what we communicate. Because a message that stays inside of us cannot accomplish what it was meant to accomplish.
A Calling Begins With a Message
I believe God gives us experiences, lessons, passions, burdens, and stories for a reason. Sometimes the very thing we've walked through becomes the thing we are called to help someone else walk through.
The pain becomes a message. The lesson becomes a message. The healing becomes a message. The testimony becomes a message. And eventually, we have to make a choice: Will I keep the message to myself, or will I communicate it?
That question has become increasingly important to me. For years, I have written about grief, faith, hope, healing, and finding purpose after loss. I wrote books. I spoke to people. I shared stories. But I've come to understand that the books and speaking opportunities aren't the calling themselves. They are vehicles for this calling. The calling is in communication.
What Are You Called to Communicate?
Maybe you've been asking yourself, What am I called to do? Perhaps a better question is: What am I called to communicate? What truth keeps coming back to you? What story are you unable to stop telling? What problem breaks your heart? What lesson did you learn the hard way that you wish someone else didn't have to learn alone? What hope do you desperately want someone else to discover?
What has God placed on your heart that continues to find its way into your conversations, your work, your writing, and your prayers? Those things may be clues. Your call may be hiding inside your message.
My Message Has Always Been About Hope
My own journey has brought me repeatedly back to one central message: There can be hope after loss. I've experienced loss. I've watched others navigate grief. I've written about children experiencing the death of someone they love. I’ve written about sorrow, faith, grace, and the process of moving forward. And I've discovered that I don't simply want to write about these things. I want to communicate hope to people who may feel like hope is no longer possible.
That's why Joy Overcame Sorrow matters so much to me. The book tells the story of a child experiencing devastating loss. But underneath the story is a message: Grief is real—but grief doesn't have to be the end of the story. That message is bigger than the book. The book is simply one way I communicate it.
Communication Takes Many Forms
One of the beautiful things about a calling is that it doesn't always look the way we expect. For some, communication happens through a pulpit. For someone else, it happens through a classroom. For another, it happens through a podcast, a book, a television interview, a social-media post, a song, or a conversation over coffee.
The platform may change, but the message can remain the same. That is something I am experiencing in a very tangible way right now.
Within two weeks, I will also be featured on two television programs: Faith Written Forward on Vision Network and Unscripted Faith on Cornerstone TV. I see these opportunities differently than I might have several years ago. I don't see them simply as accomplishments. I see them as communication opportunities. Each platform provides another opportunity to communicate the message God has placed on my heart.
The Platform Is Not the Calling
This distinction is important. An award is wonderful. A television appearance is exciting. A book is an incredible accomplishment. But none of those things, by themselves, define a calling.
The danger is that we can become so focused on the platform that we forget the purpose. We can start chasing opportunities instead of faithfully communicating the message. We can become more concerned about being seen than about what people need to hear.
But a platform without a meaningful message is simply a platform. The calling is in what we do with it.
If God gives you a microphone, what will you say?
If He gives you a classroom, what will you teach?
If He gives you a book, what will you put on its pages?
If He gives you an audience, what will you tell them?
If He gives you influence, how will you use it?
The question isn't simply: "How many people can I reach?" It is:"What will I communicate when I reach them?"
Sometimes We Communicate Without Words
Calling isn't always about standing in front of a crowd. Sometimes communication is simply how we live. How we respond to disappointment. How we treat someone who is hurting. How we walk through grief. How we forgive. How we continue when life doesn't make sense. How we hold onto faith when we don't have answers.
Our lives communicate something long before we ever open our mouths.That's why I believe our calling requires both a message and a life that supports the message. We can't communicate hope effectively if we refuse to acknowledge pain. We can't communicate faith as though we've never questioned. We can't communicate healing as though we've never been wounded. Sometimes our greatest credibility comes from being willing to say: "I've been there too."
Your Story May Be Someone Else's Message
Perhaps you've been through something you never wanted to experience. Perhaps you wondered why God allowed it. Perhaps you spent years asking what purpose could possibly come from your pain. Maybe you're still waiting to understand.
I don't believe every painful experience is something we immediately have to turn into a lesson. Sometimes we simply need to grieve. Sometimes we need to heal. But there may come a day when you look back and realize: "I know why I needed to walk through that."
Not because the pain was good. But because God can use what we've experienced to communicate something to someone else. Your story may become another person's encouragement. Your testimony may become another person's courage. Your words may become another person's hope. Your experience may become the language someone needs to understand that they aren't alone.
What Is Your Message?
So today, I'm asking myself—and perhaps I'm asking you too: What is the message God has placed inside of you? Not your title. Not your job. Not your accomplishments. Not your platform. Your message.
What do you want people to know because you were here? What truth do you want to leave behind? What hope do you want to communicate? What difference do you want your words—and your life—to make?
For me, the answer keeps bringing me back to this: There is hope after loss. There is purpose after pain. Faith can survive the questions. Healing is possible. And yes—joy can come again.
A Calling Must Be Communicated
Perhaps that's why I'm entering this next season with a different perspective. The International Christian Book Awards isn't simply an opportunity to celebrate a book. The television appearances aren't simply opportunities to promote my work. They are opportunities to communicate. To tell the story. To share the message. To encourage someone. To plant a seed. To remind someone who is hurting that their story isn't over.
And maybe that's what calling really looks like. Not always something dramatic. Not always something that comes with a title. Sometimes it's simply recognizing the message God has placed within you and being willing to communicate it wherever He opens the door. Because a calling isn't just about being called to something.
A calling is being willing to communicate what you've been given. So, I will keep writing. I will keep speaking. I will keep sharing. I will keep telling stories. And I will keep looking for the people who need to hear the message. Because I don't want to simply have a calling. I want to communicate it.
"The platform may change, but the message can remain the same. The calling is in communication."
Reflection
What message has God placed inside of you?
And perhaps even more importantly:
Where is He asking you to communicate it?
You may not have a television audience.
You may not have a publishing contract.
You may not stand behind a pulpit.
You may never receive an award.
But you have a voice.
You have a story.
You have something only you can communicate.
Don't underestimate the power of your message.
Someone may be waiting to hear it.