Why We Work

I have a friend that has a big garden. He doesn't have enough land of his own, so he shares the land of another.  He drives 25 minutes multiple times a week to till, plant, nurture, and harvest two massive garden plots.  He cans and jars food to preserve his family through the winter.  Yet, he purposefully doesn't use all of the crops that he grows.  He invites others to come and harvest.  When he was on vacation, he invited our family and others to visit the garden and take all that what we wanted.  This, after he had recently taken a truckload of harvest to a friend who couldn't get to the garden in time to pick.  He could sell these excess crops at market or on a roadside stand, however he chooses to invite others into his abundance, the harvest always a reflection of God's growing new life from dark spaces.

I know of a local man who opens his medical practice one evening a week to serve those who cannot afford to pay for medical services.  My friend coordinates with other medical professionals to offer an array of opportunities for those without to come and be made well.  To assign a dollar value to the time invested by these three medical professionals and to the opportunity cost of the practice being open to patients who cannot afford to pay is significant.  Instead, they're leveraging their gifts and blessings of talent to the sick and broken - and, aren't we all sick and broken in our distinct ways; limping about, always seeking the One who can make us well in spite of our inability to pay?

My colleague told me a story of a local businessman who shut down his home improvement service for three weeks this summer to lead a landscaping initiative at a newly constructed church.  The man works tirelessly at his business with the goal of getting ahead - not to keep up with the Jones' but to get ahead enough so that he can stop and give it back or pay it forward.  He works to generate revenue so that the margin can spill out all around him blessing others in countless ways - from landscaping churches to volunteering his musical talents at youth events. 

There was a wise old man sitting in a pub.  My friend talked to the old man about being stuck in getting his innovative, transformational nonprofit off the ground.  The old man said that my friend should create a path to get there.  He said that he might consider leveraging what skills and opportunities that he has to generate income to provide for his short-term while developing reserves to fund the nonprofit initiative.  Said differently, to do the work of today in order to create opportunities for tomorrow.  My friend rerouted his life course and now focuses his efforts on sacrificially supporting, equipping, and encouraging others to live lives more fully and purposefully.  Both the old man and the friend are using their resources to change the world through imparting their wisdom and experience with others.  They're mentoring, as they've been mentored.

This may sound like the "pull yourself up from the bootstraps" mantra that is often idealized and rarely entirely true (particularly the idea that this type of success occurs only from individual striving).  It's not.  Each of these stories represent great, life-changing, world-improving, community-building initiatives that might crumble under the weight of unrealized ideals and end in a smoldering pile of burnout if they are put forth in prideful isolation or with selfish motivations.  Dramatically, these stories are being written in a different way.  These folks are not creating change on only the merits of their own efforts.  They are looking around their unique worlds for the blessings and opportunities that God has placed before them.  They are seizing opportunities, plowing through fear, working large while remaining small - humbled to be a part of a supernatural story of which they only catch glimpses.   They're opening themselves up to the infinite possibilities of what God might do with our work when it's surrendered to something bigger than ourselves. 

In a historic letter that we call the book of Ephesians, the apostle Paul wrote that, "[instead of stealing, they] must work, doing something useful with their own hands, that they may have something to share with those in need."  The theme of sharing evolves throughout the Bible from sharing our excess to sacrificially giving and always looking to intentionally love and serve those living in the margins of society.  This is why we work.

I am thankful for the friend who shares his garden that others might benefit from his harvest.  I am thankful for the medial professional who works to share his practice with those who have not.    I am thankful for the businessman who forgoes three weeks of additional profit to support his church.  I am thankful for the old man in the pub who shares his wisdom.  I am thankful for the friend who puts his own nonprofit on hold to help other leaders succeed in their respective organizations.  And, I'm thankful for a God who puts these amazing, inspiring people in my path that I might aspire to be used by God as they are - leveraging my blessed opportunities to share His love and grace with the world. 

Lessons From a Street Performer

My Dad, brother, and I recently went on a guys' weekend to Baltimore, MD.  We had made this trip about six years ago and had a great time.  A sequel trip was long overdue.  We watched the sun set over the water, cracked hard shell crabs, and talked long.  We spent hours in Barnes and Nobel collecting more books than we will ever read.  We talked business.  We laughed.  While it was difficult to coordinate three busy schedules and schedule the trip, it was time well invested.  The being always outweighing the doing. 

On our first trip a few years ago there was a street performer that slowed our walk and captured our attention.  He was dressed completely in yellow, strikingly similar to the Man in the Yellow Hat from Curious George.  We dubbed him "Yella Man."  The slang offering him more street cred.  We witnessed a new act from him each time we passed through the harbor.  His impromptu performances didn't seem to be ordained by the government folks who must ordain such things on the harbor, but no one seemed to be chasing him away either. 

On our recent visit, we eagerly looked for Yella Man once again.  We stumbled upon a new street performance.  The performer wasn't dressed in yellow.  Instead, he wore a mismatched, thick suit.  Upon observation, we agreed that it was the same guy - this was in fact Yella Man.  His act was much more polished now than it had been a few years ago.  A small sound system connected to a dated CD player provided audio accompanying the act.  There were  now scheduled show times. The government folks that ordain such things on the harbor seemed to have given him their blessing and some structure to the program. 

We saw one complete performance and the beginning and ending of others.  We overheard Yella tell another person in the audience that he's done these performances for over 15 years and always makes enough to pay his mortgage and get by.  The street performances were his only work.  While the actual performance wasn't very good, we were oddly captivated by the show.  When he ended a show he asked for our money. The crowd tossed a few dollars in his bolo hat that lay overturned on the ground.   The show itself wasn't worth much, but I believe we had gained some significant life lessons nonetheless.

Yella seemingly lived the mantra of starting.  It's well noted that a gap between the wildly successful and those who just lament the good life as unattainable rests in the starting.  The successful start.  Those drowning their faded dreams over unhappy hours often simply failed to ever start.  Ghandi encouraged us to be the change that we wanted to see in the world (or in our marriages, careers, and friendships).  He called us to start.  Best selling author John Acuff says, "We don’t set out for average. But that’s exactly where we end up after listening to our fears day after day, year after year. Our dreams take a back seat and eventually are left stranded by the side of the road."  Acuff calls us to punch fear in the face and escape average by doing work that matters.  And any work can matter.  Yella Man started.  He took marginal talent and shaped it into a business that earns enough for him survive.  It's key to note that he earns "enough."  The key to defining our success is in first determining where our "enough" lies.  Once we know what's "enough", we must start.  Yella punched fear in the face and turned what he enjoys doing into a business that provides enough. 

We saw Yella Man perform the last of a full day of shows.  It was a sweltering day in June.  The sun disappearing from the horizon only offered marginal relief from that heat.  Yella dressed in a full wool suit.  The show climaxed with Yella riding a 6 foot unicycle... while juggling flaming sticks... in heavy suit... on a 90 degree evening.  Yella gathered every last ounce of energy in his voice as he framed the final act for the audience.  Sweat dripped from his head.  He attempted to mount the bike and missed.  A second attempt failed as well.  The crowd assumed this to be a part of the act, a way to illustrate the difficulty of the trick.  He attempted to mount the bike again.  A fourth attempt failed.  The audience shifted in their seat, an uncomfortable restlessness growing from the performers failing.  A fifth attempt wasn't close.  Yella Man smiled and joked about potentially being there all night.  Some in the crowd smiled a polite, empathetic smile in return. Others voiced their disdain.  Both hope and sadness teetered in the heat of the night as we waited for him to continue.  Most just wanted this to be over.  Yella mounted the bike, wobbled around for a bit, juggled for a moment, and jumped triumphantly from the bike, arms raised in victory.  There was scattered applause.  We admired his perseverance.  It took six attempts to pull off the final trick.  It took a lifetime of self assurance and confidence to muster the courage to attempt the trick six times among a tired, sometimes hostile audience.  Yet, he persevered and found success.  It wasn't a gold medal final act, but it was enough.

Yella knew how to laugh at life.  In the midst of a sub par performance and a crowd that parted when someone who had too much to drink regurgitated their entire evening, he laughed.  He laughed at himself.  He laughed at the tricks he nailed.  He laughed at the tricks that were confusing and misunderstood by the audience.  He laughed with the crowd.  He nudged laughs from others even with the jokes that bombed.  We laughed because he laughed, his joy contagious. 

Typically the sequel is never as strong as the original.  However, our second mans' trip to Baltimore proved even better than the first.  We were reunited with Yella.  And he taught us something about the importance of starting something, persevering through the trials, and laughing, laughing, laughing at life. 

I used to carry heavy anxiety about the direction God wanted me to go.  I'd picture God standing beside me carrying a map that I couldn't read waiting for me to choose a direction.  The problem was that I didn't now which direction God wanted me to choose.  So, I'd take a small step forward and quickly turn back to see if God's expression had changed indicating whether he was happy or not with my choice.  Then, I'd retreat back to our starting point and stand again beside a silent God waiting for me to move.  I'd take a step in a new direction and land on a thorn that wedged itself deep into my foot.  This was followed by pain and regret both over the thorn in my foot and over analyzing whether the thorn was there because God didn't want me to go in that direction or whether he had placed it there so that I'd learn to move through the pain and keep on.  Confused, I'd retreat back to our starting point with these paths all lying about, God impatiently tapping his foot at my inability to forge ahead, and me just wanting God to hand over the map.  With grace, my view of God and my understanding of His view of me has changed.  As I journey with God, I now picture him looking at me with full assurance and love.  God doesn't sit silently impatient and charge me with decoding his secret will.  Instead, he journeys with me and as we come upon a fork in the road He gently asks, "Where do you think we should go?"  As long as I'm journeying with God, our destination is shared.  He only asks that I trust him enough to start in a direction, faithfully persevere when the road looks impassible, and that I share long, hearty laughs with Him along the way.  All of the work that we do and all of the paths that we choose matter.  We need only to start, to get up again when we fall, and to smile wide at the hope continually springing from ashes all around.  And when the night is dark, the heat is building, and our mismatched suit feels tired and heavy, we can stand tall with our arms raised triumphantly in expectation as we know how the show ultimately ends.