Feeling His Pleasure, or, Hands Across a Keyboard

Not long ago, in our study of First Thessalonians (see here) we came across Paul’s injunction that we aspire to a quiet life, and work with our own hands (4:11). We talked briefly about two errors we are prone to make in understanding our work. Some people look down on manual labor on the one hand, and some who down on more mental labor. And some in both camps make both mistakes.

I could argue that I “work with me hands” since my fingers dance over my keyboard. The truth is, however, it’s not what my fingers are doing that matters so much, but what my mind is doing. I’m not adept at building things. I’m not very handy.

That said, I learned a great lesson from a friend a few decades ago. He was a parishioner at the church I served. He worked for an organization that built homes for those in poverty in Kentucky. I visited his home and he showed me the outstanding work he had done converting an attic into a bedroom for his young, adopted daughters. As we descended the stairs I said to him, “Man, what I wouldn’t give to be able to build something like this.” Without a moment’s hesitation he replied, “What I wouldn’t give to be able to prepare and deliver a sermon.”

Talk about a two by four to the head. All I could reply was, “I think you just did.” All honest work is honorable work when done for the glory of the King. Whether one is sawing lumber to build a pulpit, playing the music with which God’s people praise Him, or delivering His Word, it’s all good. That said, the same is true when our work takes a longer walk to get to worship.

When the plumber comes to my house to fix a leak, he is doing kingdom work. Both the machinist who honed the tool that fixed my leak, and the marketing guy who got it to the plumber, they are all doing kingdom work. The people in the c-suites are not better, more successful than the people on the floor. Nor is it the other way around.

The Bible commands of us all that we do our work as unto the Lord (Col. 3:23). This isn’t a call to pretend, to trick ourselves into believing our work matters. It is instead designed to escape the lie that our work doesn’t matter. Including the work I am doing in putting together this brief piece. I won’t, of course, be able to measure its impact. Such is measured in a realm I cannot see.

I can, however, write by faith. I can write knowing that His Word will not, indeed cannot, return void. Insofar as I am true to His Word, my work matters. I, like everyone who does any kind of work, rejoice to receive positive feedback. I am, in my better moments, likewise grateful for constructive criticism. Either way, I am blessed when I remember that when I write, I feel the Lord’s pleasure.