Defrosting Freezers

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.