Its Not Just a Job

I work with a lot of different people on a lot of different jobs.  Like any work, there is a tendency to set your sights on just getting the job completed.  I constantly try to remind myself to enjoy the moment... there's more to the work than just getting it done.  And then occasionally, something unusual, even extraordinary, will occur, making the job less about work, and more about life.

Out of the blue, an old friend contacted me.  Her vacation home had suffered water damage over the winter.  The roof had already been repaired, and the damage inside remained.  She knew I did this sort of work, and wondered if I may be able to work on the home or at least point her in the right direction.

My first inclination was to offer her advice only, for a variety of reasons, one of which was the fact she had been more than a friend in our college years.  We parted ways amiably, but hadn’t really spoken in depth since then.  I was hesitant to even open that door.

I made a fact finding trip to the house on a day she wasn't there.  Being in the home had the effect I anticipated.  While surveying the property, a flood of memories smacked me in the face.  I wasn't sure at all how to proceed.

Accompanied by my youngest daughter, we met my friend at the house one Saturday.  We talked about the repairs, and as the details of the job unfolded, it became apparent that while I was hesitant to step into this situation, it seemed I was the right person to do the work.

The visits to the house and the subsequent conversations prompted some contemplation regarding our past.  It was a process I foresaw having to walk through, and elected to press on despite some discomfort. The thought that this was being orchestrated for us by God Himself was hard to shake.

The following Sunday morning our worship leader opened with the song “It is Well with My Soul”.  As I sang the song, the present situation immediately came to mind.  I knew I was midstream of a healing taking place, and thought “This is well with my soul.  This is all good.” 

But then those churchy goose bumps were interrupted.  Was I singing this sincerely?  The answer came quickly - NO.  So I turned the song into a prayer, and asked "Lord, make this situation more well with my soul.”

I sensed a desire to talk to someone.  Two of my best friends were out of town together, ministering at a summer church camp.  Some help THEY were in my hour of need.  So I sent off a text to another friend, Joe.  He was busy, but would call later.

About this time, I received an e-mail from my friend Bill.  He forwarded a story about dealing with the past.  The timing was uncanny and I shot a response back to him mentioning this.  We discovered a common bond, and thought it prudent to schedule a time to meet for coffee.

The day I started the job, I could tell that something was different already.  The only thing that smacked me in the face was the desire to get it done in time for my friend’s vacation.  Around day four the reality of the magnitude had set in, so I asked my dad to help me.  We spent some quality time together.  I even snapped at him a few times and had to apologize.  It was beautiful.

Bill and I met for our scheduled coffee.  We had one of those heart to heart talks that they say men are supposed to have, but rarely do.  But this came about very naturally, out of a mutual desire to share what light we had which may have applied to our situations.  He told me he would be praying for me, and I believed him.

A few days later, Joe called me, and I sat out on the step while we talked and my dad continued slaving away in the house.  We exchanged stories of similar events in our lives, another one of those heart-to-hearts that men are told to have.  But no one had to tell us.  We connected in a way we never had before. 

There were some peculiar occurrences on the job that didn’t involve people at all.  The summer so far had been unusually dry.  The night before we tore out the old damaged ceiling in the bedroom, we had a horrific rain storm.  As we removed the ceiling, we found some soaked insulation.  It didn’t take long to trace the leak to a window above the roof, which was easily fixed.  The timing of the rain was perfect.  A day or two later, and new drywall would have gotten damaged by water.

A day or two later another horrific storm hit the area.  I was half way home and for some crazy reason thought of the cook top in the kitchen.  We had covered the top with plastic and a rug to protect it while tearing out the ceiling.  It had push button controls, but I couldn’t recall where they were.  I wondered if there was a chance we could have inadvertently turned on one of the burners.

Of course, I returned to the job.  When I arrived, the storm was directly over the house.  I found the cook top to be off, but as I was removing the plastic and rug, I heard a dripping sound.  Coincidentally, water was coming in a window above the kitchen in the same manner as the first leak we had discovered.  Again, the timing was outrageously perfect, as we were about to install new drywall.

My friend arrived with her family the night before my last day of work.  That Saturday we talked as I finished up with some painting and miscellaneous jobs.  I met her husband for the first time face to face. It was a perfect ending to one story, the perfect beginning to another.

As is the case with many so called routines in life, this wasn’t just a job.  God’s fingerprints were all over it.  I would suggest that it was nothing less than a walking out of Acts 2:42.  “And they were continually devoting themselves to the apostles' teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.”  The “they” in this case was a whole cast of people I encountered along the way.

In that light, throughout that five week period, I believe it is probable that The Lord brought to mind teaching we had all been exposed to throughout our lives to guide us through.  We effortlessly devoted ourselves to intimate fellowship with each other.  Without the “breaking of bread” - the actual work of Christ Himself represented by that - the work and interactions would have been nothing more than a chore, perhaps an inconvenient one fraught with pitfalls.  And naturally,  we held this whole situation before The Lord in prayer as it unfolded.

And the fruit of this so-called “continual devotion” reminiscent of the Book of Acts?  As in any gathering of believers, it brought new life.  The relationship between my old friend and I was re-defined.  New relationships were birthed.  New life was breathed into other relationships in a way that only a sharing of The Life of Christ can.  We were reminded again of His hand in our lives.  And as an added bonus, an old house got restored.

This story first appeared in the October, 2010 edition of the Manna. http://readthemanna.org