Discerning the Call: Finding My Way with Dante Through Service, Faith, and the Road Toward Ministry

In this image from Inferno, Dante grasps Bocca by the hair, forcing a confrontation with betrayal, truth, and moral accountability. For a reflection on discernment, the scene reminds us that the spiritual journey is not only about finding light, but also about facing the parts of ourselves and the world that must be named before we can move closer to God.

There comes a point in discernment when the question changes.

At first, the question may be, What am I supposed to do with my life? Then, over time, it becomes something deeper: Lord, what are You asking of me?

That is where I find myself now.

For most of my life, I have known that I was meant to serve others. I did not always know what that service would look like. I did not always know where it would lead. But the pull has always been there. I have felt it in education, in libraries, in student success work, in research, in community service, in writing, and in the quiet places where God keeps speaking even when I try to stay busy.

Looking back, I can see that my life has never been only about building a career. It has been about learning how to serve.

Education became one of the first clear expressions of that calling. I was drawn to the work of helping people access knowledge, opportunity, technology, and support. I believed then, and still believe now, that education can change the direction of a person’s life. Libraries, classrooms, archives, research, open educational resources, and student support were never just professional interests for me. They were ways of helping people move closer to possibility.

That is why my work has so often centered on access.

Access to information.
Access to opportunity.
Access to technology.
Access to education.
Access to dignity.
Access to hope.

For a long time, I understood that as my vocation. And it was. But now I am beginning to understand that it may have also been preparation.

I believe God has been calling me for a long time to serve Him more directly. I have tried to explain that call in different ways. I have tried to place it neatly inside my academic life, my professional life, my writing, my photography, and my community work. But lately, the call has become harder to ignore.

I am now discerning a call to ministry, possibly as a deacon or priest.

Even writing that feels serious. It is not something I say lightly. Ministry is not a title to collect or an identity to try on. It is a life of service, sacrifice, obedience, prayer, and responsibility. To discern the diaconate or priesthood is to ask whether God may be calling me to give my life more fully to His Church and His people.

And yet, when I look back over my life, this does not feel like a sudden change. It feels like a thread that has been there all along.

I have always been drawn to people who need encouragement, support, and guidance. I have always cared about those who feel left out, overlooked, or unsure whether they belong. I have always believed that the work of helping others is holy work. Even when I was serving through education, I was often doing something pastoral without naming it that way: listening, guiding, teaching, advocating, encouraging, and helping people find their next step.

Maybe that was not separate from ministry.

Maybe it was ministry beginning to take shape.

St. John Henry Newman, a male saint born in 1801 and canonized in 2019, gives language to this kind of discernment. In his meditation often called “The Mission of My Life,” Newman writes, “God has created me to do Him some definite service; He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another” (Newman, n.d., para. 2). That line speaks directly to where I am now. It names the holy restlessness I have carried for years. It reminds me that vocation is not simply about personal preference. It is about recognizing that God may have entrusted a particular work to me.

Newman continues, “I have my mission—I never may know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next” (Newman, n.d., para. 2). That is the hard part of discernment. We want certainty before we move. We want the whole path before we take the first step. We want God to explain everything in advance. But discernment often requires trust before clarity.

That brings me to Dante.

At the beginning of The Divine Comedy, Dante finds himself lost in a dark wood. He is not standing confidently at the gates of Paradise. He is confused, disoriented, and aware that he has wandered from the straight path. His journey begins not with certainty, but with the admission that he needs guidance.

That feels like discernment to me.

Dante’s journey is not only a literary journey through Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise. It is a spiritual journey from confusion toward God. He must be guided. He must be humbled. He must see truth. He must pass through what is difficult before he can understand what is holy.

In many ways, discernment feels like standing in that dark wood and finally admitting, Lord, I do not know the whole way. But I believe You are calling me forward.

For years, I have served through education. Now I am asking whether God is calling me to serve through the Church in a more formal and sacramental way. The question is not whether I care about service. I know that I do. The question is whether God is asking me to offer that service through ordained ministry, either as a deacon or as a priest.

The diaconate speaks deeply to my heart because it is rooted in service. A deacon stands at the intersection of altar and world, liturgy and daily life, proclamation and charity. That image makes sense to me. It connects with so much of who I have been: an educator, advocate, servant, and bridge-builder. The deacon’s ministry reminds the Church that faith must move outward, toward the poor, the struggling, the forgotten, and the people who need someone to walk with them.

The priesthood also pulls at me because it is centered on giving one’s life for God and His people. The priest teaches, shepherds, celebrates the sacraments, preaches the Word, and stands with people at the holiest and hardest moments of life. To even consider that possibility is humbling. It asks for more than interest. It asks for surrender.

And that is where I am: not claiming certainty, but discerning sincerely.

I believe this may be where God wants me.

That belief has not arrived all at once. It has grown slowly through prayer, reflection, service, longing, and the repeated sense that my life has been moving toward something more explicitly rooted in God. I have tried to serve through institutions. I have tried to serve through education. I have tried to serve through research, writing, and community work. Now I am asking whether God is calling me to serve through ministry itself.

Newman’s words help me understand this moment: “He has not created me for naught. I shall do good; I shall do His work” (Newman, n.d., para. 2). That is what I want. I want my life to do God’s work. I want my gifts, education, experience, wounds, hopes, and voice to be used in service of something larger than myself.

Discernment does not mean I have every answer today. It means I am willing to ask the question honestly.

Am I called to be a deacon?
Am I called to be a priest?
Am I called to serve God’s people through preaching, teaching, pastoral care, sacramental life, and public witness?
Am I willing to be formed, tested, humbled, and guided?
Am I willing to say yes if God keeps opening this door?

Those are not small questions.

But the deepest calls in life rarely are.

Dante did not reach Paradise by standing still. He had to begin the journey. He had to accept guidance. He had to move from confusion into purification, and from purification into divine love. That is the movement I desire in my own life. I want to move closer to God. I want to serve more faithfully. I want to understand whether the work I have done in education and service has been preparing me for ministry all along.

Maybe discernment is not God interrupting my life with a completely new direction.

Maybe discernment is God revealing the meaning of the direction I have been walking all along.

I have known my whole life that I was meant to serve others. Now I believe God may be showing me where that service is meant to lead. Not away from who I have been, but deeper into it. Not away from education, scholarship, or service, but toward a fuller offering of those gifts to Him.

I do not know every step yet.

But I know the call is real enough that I must listen.

And like Newman, I trust that God has created me for some definite service. I trust that He knows what He is about. I trust that if this call is truly from Him, He will continue to guide, confirm, correct, and prepare me.

For now, I am listening.

For now, I am discerning.

For now, I am standing at the edge of the path, asking God for the courage to follow where He leads.

References

Dante Alighieri. (n.d.). The divine comedy (H. W. Longfellow, Trans.). Project Gutenberg. https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8800

Newman, J. H. (n.d.). Meditations and devotions: Part III. The National Institute for Newman Studies. https://www.newmanreader.org/works/meditations/meditations9.html

Public Domain Review. (n.d.). Dante’s Divine Comedy in art. https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/dante-divine-comedy-in-art/

Vatican News. (2022, October 9). St. John Henry Newman. https://www.vaticannews.va/en/saints/10/09/st–john-henry-newman.html