Eight thousand and four
hundred days ago I found myself standing in a parking lot, chipping the ice out
of a freezer, watching men I knew well step out of a church’s office and head off
to lunch. I was the handyman for that church, they were newly minted
pastors. I had taken the job because I was unemployed and I need to make
some money so my family could celebrate Christmas. They were well on their
way to fulfill their calling.
I had sensed a similar call
on my life. In fact, it was the only
reason I even went to college. For most
of my young life, I had prepared to become an auto mechanic, hence my capacity
to step into the role of handyman. It
was humbling to stand there defrosting that refrigerator while men who I had
gone to college with were commencing their careers in ministry. While they were
beginning an exciting season of growth, I felt stuck and forgotten.
In frustration, I remember
crying out to God and asking, “How long o Lord, will you leave me in this
place.” As clearly as I have ever heard Him, I heard God say, “If I want
you to be a handyman for the rest of your life, you need to do it to honor and
glorify me.” It wasn’t the response I
was longing to hear, but I heard it loud and clear.
With tears streaming down
my face, and ice and water pooling at my feet, I could do nothing else but
surrender. I told God I was willing to be a handyman for the rest of my life,
if that is what He had for me. As it turned out it wasn’t, but that is
another story for another time.
Today, I found myself
doing some contract work at a friend’s company. It is relocating and they
need some extra hands to help in moving and installing computers and
servers. I took the job because, things being what they are, I needed to
make some money so my family could celebrate Christmas.
While we were in the
process of packing everything up, my friend noticed his mini refrigerator,
which had been unplugged earlier in the day, was leaking water. He
asked me if I could do something about it. It had already been wrapped in
cellophane for the move. We freed the refrigerator from its cocoon and I
opened the door. What I found was a layer of ice covering the bottom of the freezer
compartment. It was melting, causing the leak, but it was still frozen
solid enough for the ice to have a firm grip on bottom of the freezer.
I spent the next few
minutes, kneeling in my friends office, using a pair of scissors to chip away
the ice, hoping to clear it all before the mess got even worse. I was so
focused on what I was doing that I did not realize the déjà vu I had been drawn
into. It escaped me until my friend made a comment something to the effect of,
“I hope this doesn’t take you back to a bad place.” When he said it, I
knew exactly what he was referring to, and for a moment my mind and heart went
back to that morning in the parking lot 8,400 days ago.
It was a bit surreal to
recognize how similar the circumstances were that brought me to this moment and
that I was engaged in the exact same task as I was then. But that was quickly washed away by the reality
that though the need and the joy were the same, my heart is totally different
than it was back then.
I was not kneeling there,
crying out to God, “How long o Lord?” I was not worried about God’s plans
for my life, or what it would mean if I spent the rest of my life chipping out
ice boxes and moving computers. I was not jealous of the fact my friends
company is expanding and he is moving into a bigger office, in a nicer location
and in a day or two I will have completed the work he has for me. Rather
than feeling anxious, what I was feeling was just the opposite. I felt content.
I felt content because in
this season, where I have found myself having to learn to trust God in new
ways, I am discovering more fully that He is indeed trustworthy.
Rather than crying out for
God to orchestrate the circumstance of my life to make me feel secure, I am learning
what it means to find the fullness of my security in Him.
Instead of worrying about what my life will amount to, my heart
has grown to embrace the prayer which affirms that “God has created me to do
Him some definite service; He has committed some work to me which He has not committed
to another. I have my mission—I never
may know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next.” My heart is content with being willing to
wait to discover what He is doing.
Mostly, I felt content
because my identity is in no way connected to the fact I find myself defrosting
a freezer, moving computers, pastoring people, mentoring leaders, preaching sermons, providing direction, or any number of other things which
fill my days. If I have learned anything in those 8,400 days, especially
in the last 1,000 or so, it is that my identity is centered on Christ. It
is what he says about me, not what I do, which defines me. I could have
told you this truth all those days ago. I knew it my mind, but now I know it in
my deep, and that makes all the difference in the world.
There is a freedom that is
born in this deep knowing. It is a freedom which allows one to stand and
preach a sermon or kneel and chip ice, and find Christ is present in
both. It is a freedom born in the knowledge you are fully loved and can
never be thrown away. It is a freedom that produces a boldness which allows you
to move into any situation or circumstance knowing in that moment, it and you
are necessary for God’s purposes.
It is the freedom which
allowed me to hear my friend’s comment and ponder it for a moment, and then
realize how far my heart has come. I was able to see how unattached my heart
has become to what I find myself doing, and how more fully attached it has
become to the one I follow and trust. My heart has learned to be
expectant in each moment, realizing God knows what He is about. I will trust
Him. All of this is freedom, but it is also peace, and joy, and contentment. It is good.
Working for my friend was
definitely a gift, not because of the fact it will provide the ability to
celebrate Christmas, but because it allowed me to see, in a very tangible way,
the traces of the sacred work God has been doing in transforming my
heart. This was an unexpected gift.
