When God calls, His assignment does not always lead us to a pulpit or a foreign mission field. Sometimes it leads us into an ordinary classroom where faithfully serving Him becomes increasingly difficult.

I was asking my friend Vicky about her husband’s plans. Mateo teaches in the public school system and has only a few years remaining before retirement.

Those final years, however, are becoming increasingly difficult.

It is not because Mateo is getting older or has lost his love for teaching. It is because he feels growing pressure to set aside many of the moral, ethical, and biblical convictions upon which he was raised and by which he has tried to live.

Mateo has been troubled by changes within his school. According to Vicky, the Pledge of Allegiance is no longer recited because it contains the words “under God.” He sees pride flags encouraged while the Ten Commandments are prohibited from classroom walls. During the past two years, he has also watched sixth- and seventh-grade students being transitioned into the opposite sex.

As a Christian man, Mateo finds himself navigating circumstances that conflict deeply with his beliefs.

Recently, the school principal reprimanded him because he did not address two students—whom he had known as girls in the sixth grade—by the male names they began using in the seventh grade.

Mateo needed to find a way to respect the authority of the school without speaking words that violated his conscience.

As the son of a Vietnam veteran, he turned to a military custom: he began addressing all his students by their last names.

I thought his work-around was genius.

Scripture tells believers:

“If possible, so far as it depends on you, live
peaceably with all.”—Romans 12:18

Mateo did not create a public confrontation, embarrass the students, or abandon his convictions. He found a peaceful and respectful way to remain faithful to his conscience while continuing to serve the children entrusted to him.

For the past several years, Mateo has also coached cross-country. Managing approximately 35 young runners is challenging enough, but he is very nervous about how he is going to handle the situation when the biological boys discover that one of them is actually a biological girl. 

I asked Vicky, “With only a few years left before retirement, why doesn’t Mateo let another teacher coach the team? Is he doing it for the extra money?”

She laughed.

“He receives only a $2,000 stipend,” she explained. “By the time you count all the hours he puts in, it probably works out to less than five dollars an hour.”

Then she said something that stayed with me:

“No, he doesn’t do it for the money. He does it for the kids.”

That did not surprise me. I know Mateo personally, and he has an enormous heart—especially for children.

It is not unusual for a former student from ten years ago to recognize him in public and greet him by name. Parents have contacted him to say that he taught two or three of their children and to thank him for the lasting influence he had upon their lives.

Later, while praying for Mateo and thinking about my conversation with Vicky, another possibility came to mind.

Perhaps Mateo’s reason for carrying this increasingly heavy load goes even deeper than doing it “for the kids.”

Mateo is a believer. He honors God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. I believe he is answering God’s call.

God placed Mateo in this school, with these children, during this particular moment in history. He did not place him there accidentally.

Mateo is not serving in order to earn God’s favor. Nor is he attempting to repay God for his salvation—as though such a gift could ever be repaid. His service is the fruit of his relationship with God. He loves these children because God has given him a heart to love them.

The apostle Paul wrote:

“Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men.”—Colossians 3:23

Mateo teaches and coaches children, but ultimately, he serves the Lord.

We Are All Called

I met Jason through Bible study while he was preparing for a mission trip. Jason and his wife answered God’s call to become full-time missionaries with Overland Missions. Today, they are ministering to people in Zambia.

When we hear the words called by God, we often picture missionaries like Jason and his wife. We may think of pastors standing behind pulpits, evangelists preaching to crowds, or men and women carrying the gospel into distant villages.

Those are genuine callings—but they are not the only ones.

Every believer has been called by God.

We are first called out of darkness and into a relationship with Jesus Christ:

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession…that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.”—1 Peter 2:9

We are then called to live faithfully wherever God has placed us.

Paul wrote:

“Only let each person lead the life that the Lord has assigned to him, and to which God has called him.”—1 Corinthians 7:17

Our particular assignments may change throughout our lives. God may also give us more than one ministry at the same time.

Husbands and wives are called to love and serve one another. Parents are called to nurture, protect, and instruct their children. Some of those same parents are called to care for other people’s children as teachers, doctors, nurses, counselors, or caregivers in pediatric intensive care units.

Some are called to serve the elderly. Others are called to encourage the lonely, feed the hungry, counsel the confused, protect the vulnerable, comfort the grieving, or quietly demonstrate the love of Christ in workplaces where His name is seldom spoken.

Mateo has been called to teach and coach other people’s children within a public school system. Jason and his wife have been called to share Christ in Zambia. Their locations and assignments are different, but each is being asked to serve faithfully.

As believers, we are members of the body of Christ. Paul explained that just as the human body has many parts, every Christian has a different but necessary role:

“For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ.”—Romans 12:4–5

An eye cannot perform the work of a hand, and a hand cannot take the place of a foot. Each part was created for a purpose, and the body functions properly only when each member does the work God has given it to do.

You may never preach a sermon, lead a Bible study, or serve in a foreign country. But that does not mean God has not given you a ministry.

God may have placed you exactly where you are because someone there needs the particular gifts, experiences, compassion, and testimony He has given you.

When God Calls, Do You Answer?

If you are anything like me, perhaps not at first.

And if you are truly like me, you may spend a considerable amount of time resisting Him.

My journey began when God awakened me to the difference between practicing religion and placing my trust in Jesus Christ. For years, I had known about God through rituals, traditions, and religious instruction, yet I still worshiped Him from a distance.

Then the gospel became personal. I finally understood what the torn temple veil proclaimed: through His sacrifice, Jesus had already done everything necessary to reconcile me to the Father. The barrier had been removed, and I was invited to draw near to my Creator as His redeemed and adopted child:

“Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus…let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith.”—Hebrews 10:19, 22

And then, I repented.

Repentance is sometimes presented as a frightening religious word, but it means a change of mind and direction. By God’s grace, I turned away from trusting in the world and from trying to earn salvation through my own efforts. I turned toward God, placed my faith in His Son, submitted myself to His will, and received the Holy Spirit to guide me.

I was overwhelmed with joy because I now know who I am, because I know who He is, and the cross of salvation was only the beginning.

God did not receive me with crossed arms or with a finger raised to scold me. He received me like the father received the prodigal son—with compassion and open arms:

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.”
—Luke 15:20

In that spiritual embrace, I began to understand what Jesus accomplished upon the cross. I understood that salvation was a gift, that I had been adopted into God’s family, and that belonging to His family brought both extraordinary privileges and genuine responsibilities.

But the honeymoon did not last long.

I was not so eager to tell my deeply religious loved ones about my spiritual awakening. I suspected that my newfound understanding would not be well received. I could hardly blame them, because I had once thought much as they did. Had someone shared these things with me in my former life, I might not have responded graciously either.

In a small way, I began to understand what the apostle Paul must have experienced when he turned away from everything upon which he had built his identity and began following the very Jesus he had once opposed.

Of course, my loved ones did not attempt to stone me or drive me out of town. But leaving a religious path that has been walked by generations of one’s family is not easy.

I was reluctant to speak.

The apostle Paul frequently called ordinary believers “saints”—not because they had achieved extraordinary holiness, but because they belonged to Christ and had been set apart for Him. By that definition, I was content to remain a “secret saint” — I belonged to Jesus, but I preferred to keep my faith safely hidden.

It felt safer.

But God did not light a lamp within me so that I could hide it under a basket.

Jesus said:

“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.”—Matthew 5:14

Our salvation is freely given, but it was purchased at an immeasurable cost. Jesus Christ willingly left the glory of heaven, humbled Himself, endured rejection, humiliation, scourging, and the agony of the cross. There He bore our sins in His own body and suffered the judgment we deserved so that we could be forgiven, reconciled to God, and adopted into His family. We are not saved by our good works, but having been redeemed at such a cost, we are saved for the good works God prepared for us:

“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”—Ephesians 2:10

The Holy Spirit began revealing my spiritual immaturity. He gave me a hunger for spiritual growth, illuminated God’s Word, and patiently began guiding me toward greater maturity.

The Holy Spirit is the very picture of patience—because I am the very picture of dragging my feet.

It took a long time, but I finally surrendered.

My Calling Is to Be a Signpost

Yes, you read that right but keep reading. I have not been called to teach students in a classroom. I have not been called to care for critically ill children or attend daily to the needs of the elderly.

Nor have I been given the power to produce a spiritual awakening in my own loved ones: some still view God as a distant deity, while others have turned their backs on Him entirely. I can love them, pray for them, and speak truth when God gives me the opportunity—but I cannot believe for them.

Besides, it is often difficult for loved ones to receive spiritual instruction from someone they have known all their lives. Even Jesus experienced this. His own brothers did not initially believe in Him:

“For not even his brothers believed in him.”—John 7:5

It is not as though I looked up to heaven one day like a 5-year old and said, “God, I want to be a fire engine or a football or a signpost.” A signpost was never my life’s ambition. It is not a role I chose for myself. But over time, through the guidance of the Holy Spirit, I have come to believe that being a signpost is what God is calling me to do in this season of my life.

My calling may not appear as glamorous as watching a student’s face light up with understanding, helping save a child’s life in an intensive care unit, or seeing faith awaken in a villager who once worshiped idols.

God uses me to point prodigal sons and daughters toward Him by writing stories under the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

I do not know how many people these stories help. I do not know whether they help anyone at all.

The sailor in me relates it to a lighthouse because a lighthouse sounds way better than a signpost. 🤷‍♂️

The lighthouse does not need to know the names of the ships it saved.

It only needs to keep shining.

In the same way, it is not necessary for me to know how many lives my words have touched. The results belong to God. My responsibility is to remain faithful and obedient, to keep the light burning, and do the work for which He created me.

The same is true for Mateo.

The same is true for Jason and his wife.

And the same is true for you.

Your calling may not take you to a foreign mission field. But it may take you into a classroom, an office, a hospital, a nursing home, a workshop, a neighborhood—or across the hallway to comfort someone who is hurting.

The important question is not whether your calling looks impressive to other people.

The question is whether you will faithfully answer it.

If God is calling you, answer the call.

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