Joy

Since being laid off from my former employer I have picked up a temporary job installing phones for a manufacturer of wheels at its warehouses across the country.    In making the switch to a new phone system, the company needed someone to go to each location and do the physical installation.  I am grateful to be that man.

The work is a lot like putting a big circuit together that is made up of Ethernet cables, phones, routers, switches, and punch down blocks.  This is what I do.  Once all the hardware is in place I get on a conference call with at least three other people who are programming various parts of the system and we sink the hardware and software together.   We cross our fingers hoping all the sip trunks, IP addresses and firewalls are aligned and the phones come to life.

Some nights this is too much to ask and we can spend hours on the phone trying to diagnose what the problem might be.  It could mean working all day and then staying late into the night.

Some nights, like last night it all goes according to plan.  There is dial tone, there is ringing, and there is a connection!  These nights you go home relatively early, 8:30 pm and the next morning, when you stop by the warehouse to check and make sure all is well, there is not much to do.

On days like this what is created by everything working as it should is time.  There is time to see the area of the country you have only seen through the widows of the plane, rental car, hotel room, and of course the office where you are installing phones.  Now, because all went well, you have a few hours before your next flight to step out from behind the glass and look at this part of the world face to face.

Today, because it all went well last night, I spent time in Lincoln Park.  I strolled through the atrium, meandered through the formal garden, and ambled through the zoo.  It was afternoon and most of the animals were sleeping so I watched people.  I picked a spot on which to perch myself several benches down from a man who was playing a guitar and harmonica at the same time.  

This is very impressive to those of us with no musical talent.

I watched as he played and people passed.  The songs he played were lively and fun. They brought many smiles to the faces of those passing by.  Some would break out singing the song he was playing.  Little children would stop and stare with great curiosity.  People would drop a few coins or a couple of bucks into his guitar case. 

I sat there long enough watching the people and enjoying the music that I was there when he began to close up shop.  He sat his guitar down and began picking the money out of his case.  He then began to put away his instruments.  It was then that I walked up and threw in a few dollars of my own and asked him how long has he been making a living doing this (When you are only temporarily employed you have to be looking for that next job opportunity all the time).  What he shared with me surprised me.

After telling me 24 years, he turned away from the topic of his music and began to talk about the corruption in the city and how the money gained from it seeped into the church.  His logic was that the politicians, who are dishonest, feel guilty and to clear their conscious, give large amounts of money to the church.  Now this is Chicago, a city notorious for its political corruption, so I cannot say it is not true.  Even if it is true, however, this was not the turn of conversation I expected from  a guy who had be playing joyful music just moments before.

He apparently had a lot going through his mind as he sat there and played his songs.  I just listened and let him get it all out.  I am not sure he has had anyone listen to him for quite some time.

He kept talking for a long time he finally paused and said he was sorry for talking so much.  I told him not to worry about it.  He said it just that the corrupt politicians have done so much to steal the joy of freedom and that is all he really wants, to be left alone and be free.

After a brief pause in the conversation I said, “Well, at least you are able to come here and share your music with others, bringing them joy.  His response hit me like a brick.  He said, “ I hate these songs.  I sing them so much when I wake up they are in my head.  I cannot wait until summer is over so I can quit singing them.  It is just a way to make some money to stretch my Social Security check.  It helps me keep a roof over my head.”

I said, “Thank you anyway.  It was nice to meet you and have a great day.”  I then walked away.

If that man only knew how much I wish I had his gifts for music and could bring people the instantaneous joy I witnessed him bring to people.  Maybe then he would think differently about the songs he sings.

I do not have his gifts, but I have others.  I can teach and write in ways that connect to the heart.  I can see how an idea can help shape the future of a community and I can lead others to make it a reality.  I can create.  I can encourage and build up leaders.  I can look a financial sheet and see what is really taking place.  I can love a community deeply.  I have been given gifts to build up the body of Christ, but there are others gifts I have as well.

If it involves using tools I can do it.  I can act as a mechanic, build, weld, wire, and repair.  One of the best compliments I ever received was from a master mechanic who told me I had a future in auto repair if I wanted one.  There is nothing I cannot take apart, put back together, and make work.  These gifts have made possible my stent as a telephone instillation technician.   I was left without a source of income and these gifts have provided some for this season.

It is much more, however, than a way to keep a roof over my head.  Each day, each location, is an opportunity to bring Christ with me to work in ways quite honestly you do not have to think about as a pastor.  Each day is an opportunity to turn to him in gratefulness for what He has provided in this temporary job, to trust him that he will provide something else when this is complete, and to look for joy in the midst of using this set of gifts.

Part of that joy is in the people I meet and the conversations we have, like the divorced dad I met who needed to be encouraged in his struggle to relate to his teenage daughter.  Part of that joy is found in doing something that comes so easily to me and being a bit perplexed as to why the people I am serving seem to be so impressed.  Part of that joy is in serving these people with the same attitude with which Christ served us, humility, love, and self-sacrifice.  I try to set a tone so that when the question comes up, as it almost always does, “How long have you been doing this,” and I tell them I am new and spent the last 21 years as a pastor, I hope when their mind clicks back through the day they can see a connect between my last job and this one.

It does not take long after they discover what I used to do, for a look to come across their face that says, “You must have done something to really screw up to go from being a pastor to installing phones.”  I do not respond, and as hard as it may sound, I take as a grace, recognizing that in this moment of humiliation, part of the joy comes from the fact that I am, in some small way,  sharing in the humility of Christ.

Most of the joy, however, comes from knowing this is what God has placed before me in this season and despite the fact I am working far from the community I love, with people I will never meet again, in a job that will only last for a short season, I can bring glory to my Father and my Father is pleased.

Do not underestimate the joy that can be found here, no matter what your job is.