We were back in the supply room, gathering trays and sterile equipment for our cases. She was griping about something. I don’t remember what. But as we hurried down the hall with arms full, she shook her head and sighed. “Why are you always so happy?”
I just shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s Jesus.”
Then we separated to our respective rooms.
Sometimes I wish I’d stayed in the O.R. where I’d run to escape the stress of the floors.
But the work had become pretty much just a job, just a paycheck.
I felt enslaved to it. I’d lost the love.
Besides, I’d gotten busy with church work. You know, important work. Eternal work.
And rather than be separated between church and work, I quit.
I lost sight of eternity’s stamp–if I’d ever really seen it. I’d separated my work and my faith.
I didn’t fully grasp the concept that the work of the gospel could flow through my work. Through any work.
It can, anyway, if it’s motivated by love. Our work–whatever it is–is only a vehicle to give a glimpse of God and the “future healed world that he will bring about.”
Eventually, I burned out of church work for a season. I’d enslaved myself to simply doing, and my doing undid me. Because even in that, I think I was addicted to my own significance and didn’t fully surrender as a servant.
When we work, we are . . . the “fingers of God,” the agents of his providential love for others. This understanding elevates the purpose of work from making a living to loving our neighbor and at the same time releases us from the crushing burden of working primarily to prove ourselves. ~p. 21
This is one response, Timothy Keller tells us in Every Good Endeavor, to the question of how to think about the integration of work and faith.
I wish I’d had a handle on the truth that no matter what we do, it needs to flow from who we are and whose we are. Our doing should come from our being. Everything, whether net-mending or lawn-mowing or deal-making–or passing instruments–has eternal significance whether we see it or not.
I wish I’d been able to grasp in the season the significance of wiping noses and refereeing fights and serving after-school homemade chocolate chip cookies and pizza bagels.
So now I make a little money writing. And when I wonder if my measly words make a difference at all… when I fret that I’ve wasted so much time and accomplished so little, I’ll remember Tolkien’s story of “Leaf by Niggle” that Keller shares in the Introduction.
If the God of the Bible exists, and there is a True Reality beneath and behind this one, and this life is not the only life, then every good endeavor, even the simplest ones, pursued in response to God’s calling, can matter forever. ~p. 29
This book’s goal is to answer three questions:
1. Why do you want to work? (That is, why do we need to work in order to lead a fulfilled life?)
2. Why is it so hard to work? (That is, why is it so often fruitless, pointless, and difficult?”
3. How can we overcome the difficulties and find satisfaction in our work through the gospel?
Maybe it all needs to start by becoming enslaved to Love.
The High Calling Book Club is studying Every Good Endeavor: Connecting Your Work to God’s Work by Timothy Keller with Katherine Leary Alsdorf this month–about connecting your work to God’s work. I’m excited about this one. Join today’s discussion here.
Still,
Sandy
Marilyn says
Wonderful. Inspiring, Sandy. From the Mother Teresa quote right on through to the bottom. Thank you for feeding my soul today. I have genuinely enjoyed the tiniest things in my current job and afterwards felt a little silly doing so, wondering if I should be doing more important work, but this post reminds me that what seems insignificant can have long and lasting reach.
Sandra says
I wish I could have kept that perspective in those early days of nursing and not have been so affected by the short staffing and the grumpiness of some of the older coworkers. But in God’s economy, maybe that was just a season for me. We just don’t know how far the ripples our moment-by-moment faithfulness can spread.
I’m so glad to see you here today. 🙂
laura says
I’m so glad you reconstructed this so beautifully, Sandy. Yes–that quote from Mother Teresa! This idea of being the fingers of God has really gotten under my skin. I’ve always tried to see my patients–I mean, really SEE them and who they are–but it’s only been in the past year that I’ve deliberately invited God into that process. It has been shattering in so many ways.
Beautiful post, my friend.
Sandra says
Thanks, Laura. I just see you in my mind’s eye next to those bedsides–such a gentle, sweet presence. What a blessing you are–I just know it.
And those fingers of God…I try to envision them on my computer keys because in this online space, we also have an opportunity to really see…
I was sorry to see Booked go, but I’m going to love this book, too.
kelliwoodford says
It has occurred to me that the best writers are ones who are doing their own soul searching, going on their own journey, and for whom words are simply a vehicle. Not an end in themselves.
And we can all read the difference.
This gave new insights to me as I consider such things. Especially this line, ” no matter what we do, it needs to flow from who we are and whose we are. ” Beautiful, Sandy, and not a little profound.
Sandra says
It’s amazing to me how we can breathe His life through our words–which shouldn’t be so surprising since He is the Word.
And it blesses me that a few of my words would give a little sight. Thank you, Kelli.