TheHighCalling.org: Personal Reflections

How Old Is Your Son?

Christopher Smith — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 06:00:00 GMT

"How old is your son?" asked the man behind the ticket counter.

The father hesitated for a moment. It wasn't that the question was difficult to answer. His son was 12 years old, that day. He'd been asking his parents for months to take him to this theme park on this birthday, to celebrate the fact that he'd become a "big kid."

No, the father hesitated because of a sign at the ticket booth: "Under 12 Half Price." He'd asked for three tickets, and since he'd left his wife and son standing a few feet away, he figured the man in the booth had seen them and was asking if his son qualified for the discount.

The man was glad to take his son out to celebrate this milestone birthday. But those tickets were expensive, and he wouldn't mind saving the price of even half of one.

The moment he began to consider this idea, rationalizations started flooding into his head. If they'd come here one day earlier, the ticket would have been half price. Was it really fair for the park to charge that much more just because his son was a day older?

But in the end, his conscience spoke even louder. The truth was the truth, and he had to tell the truth, even if it cost him.

In Psalm 15, David asks, "LORD, who may dwell in your sanctuary? Who may live on your holy hill?" In effect, he's asking what kind of person's life and work is pleasing and acceptable to God. He answers, among other things: "He whose walk is blameless, who does what is righteous, who speaks the truth from his heart and has no slander on his tongue . . . who keeps his oath even when it hurts." David concludes, "He who does these things will never be shaken."

When David says that the person whose life is pleasing to God "keeps his oath even when it hurts," he means that this person tells the truth and keeps his word even if it costs him something. He doesn't change his mind or adjust the facts to suit his own interests as different situations arise.

Anyone can tell the truth when they've got nothing to lose. But people who stick to the truth, even when there's a price to pay, will be admired for their character. They'll develop a reputation for honesty and integrity that will serve them well in all their dealings with other people.

"My son is 12 years old," the father replied, after only a slight hesitation. He added proudly, "today," as he paid for three adult tickets. He turned around to find his wife and son standing right behind him! His son was beaming with a satisfaction that seemed to come from much more than the fact that he'd just been treated as a "big kid."

When the boy ran off to get on the first ride of the day, the man's wife took him aside. "You couldn't see this," she informed him, "but we came right up behind you while you were still in line. When our son saw you hesitate, his eyes got as wide as saucers. I think he guessed what you were struggling with, and he was watching you closely to see what you would do. When you told the truth, he was so proud of you! I think you've just set a great example that will help him grow up to be an honest man."

He who does these things will never be shaken . . .

Questions for personal reflection, online discussion, or small groups:

Do you feel shaken in your daily work or life? How can you live and work with greater integrity so there is no slander on your tongue?
Are you tempted to fudge the truth with others? Why? How do you fight the urge to deceive others?
Who looks up to you as an example? Kids, peers, employees, students, etc.? How can you live in a way that will inspire them?
People of high character are known for their honesty and integrity. How are you known?

When Layoffs and Fear Enter the Workplace

Glynn Young — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 06:00:00 GMT

At work, we started blogging on our internal website about coming layoffs.

They were announced in June, and then a corporate cone of silence descended. Employees would begin finding out two months later, in late August, but the silence was becoming stifling. Fear had entered the workplace.

There was a time when silence was official policy. But that’s over. The internet, social media, and new workplace expectations and realities have swept official policies away. Announce a layoff, and expect to see it tweeted on Twitter. The employer-employee contract died in the 1980s. We may yearn for the days of two-way loyalty, but they’re gone, swept away by the addiction of repeated downsizings. There’s only forward.

One of the things my team is responsible for is the corporate intranet, including news and blogs. We talked about what to do. If we can’t answer people’s most important question—do I have a job?—could we at least indicate that it was okay to talk about it?

Can You Blog Your Layoff?

My people knew that I had been laid off from a job with another company in 1999. They asked me what happened, and what I’d experienced. I told them.

One of them said, “Can you blog it? Can you blog what happened to you?”

Well, sure, I could do that. I could also think about the possible reactions and potential repercussions.

But then I thought about all of the people and families, worrying about the what-ifs at home, seeing the lousy economic news getting worse. If I blogged my own experience, it still wouldn’t answer their critical questions, but it might say it’s okay to talk about it, and we all share the same fears and concerns. And one thought kept running through my mind: Jesus never hesitated to say what needed to be said, to anyone.

Love your neighbor as yourself.

I talked with my boss and peers. I got the green light. I blogged.

The first post was about what happened to me in 1999—how it happened and how I reacted. And what I did to prevent the layoff from controlling me. The second post was about the questions I got from my family. The third was about a layoff when I wasn’t affected, but a close friend was.

I talked about shame, embarrassment, feelings of inadequacy, and questions from my children (like “Didn’t you work hard enough? Do we have to move?”). And then the ultimate understanding that my job, and the loss of my job, did not define my value. Because my faith defined who I was, and because I tried to practice my faith at church, at home, and on the job, it was my response to my layoff that defined who I was.

People Respond When You Shoot Straight

I can’t say my blog posts went viral, but it was something like that. Within three days, more than 2,500 people had read the first post. Comments got posted. One employee posted a blog himself. I received emails, phone calls, and visits. People stopped and thanked me in the cafeteria. The reactions were fairly uniform—it’s okay to talk about this; it’s okay to talk about what we’re afraid of. We’re all in this together.

The day after the first post, the company operator called me, asking me where to direct a reporter who was calling about a story. I gave her the name and number. She thanked me, and then hesitated.

“I read your blog,” she said. She paused. “It was good.” She paused again. “Thank you.”

In the third blog post, I talked about a time in 1992, when a close friend found out he was losing his job. He called me, and it was hard to imagine that my confident, focused, intense friend was devastated, depressed, and ashamed. And it got worse.

Layoffs Can Leave People Ostracized

We met in the company cafeteria the next day. I was waiting for him at a table. He walked over, lunch tray in his hands, and stood there.

“Are you sure you want to be seen with me?” he asked.

I thought he was joking. He wasn’t. His entire department had stopped speaking to him. He had to stay in the office for the next 45 days, and he was effectively ostracized.

I was stunned. So I did the only thing I knew to do. I stood and hugged him. He cried. What a scene that made, right in the cafeteria.

I told that story, with this point: I promised myself right there that I would never do to anyone what had been done to this man. And I urged the readers of 17 years later to make the same promise. I said that I knew it was awkward, and if you didn’t know what to say to someone who had just lost their job, try this: “How can I help you?” And help them network, be a reference, make some phone calls, and follow up with them later.

In other words, love them as yourself. The odds are good that you will be one of them, some day.

The People Who Don’t Lose Their Jobs

Layoffs not only affect the people who lose their jobs. They also affect the people who don’t. And I’m not talking about so-called “survivor guilt.” No, what usually follows a layoff program is a reorganization, changes in workloads, changes in team structure, and often changes in team leaders.

Team leaders play the pivotal role, and it’s difficult, because they often don’t know the answers to a lot of the questions. How will we work together? Do I have more work to do? Am I expected to work longer hours? Will we stop doing some things? How do we work with other teams? The team that provides the monthly statistics is gone —where do we get the information?

If we’re believers, we don’t leave our faith at the corporate door. While a layoff doesn’t differentiate between those who believe and those who don’t (the rain falls on both alike), the response of each can differentiate them. It’s what Tony Dungy, head coach of the Super Bowl-winning Indianapolis Colts, said in his book Uncommon: Finding Your Path to Significance: don’t let the bad things that happen to you define who you are as a person. The key is how you respond to those bad things.

Questions for personal reflection, online discussion, or small groups:

Have you had to lay a person or people off as part of a general downsizing? What thought processes do you go through? How do you decide, and what do you do when your decisions are not obvious?
If a downsizing has been announced, how do you plan? What do you do, if anything at all? What should you do?
What happens when a close friend or relative loses a job—how do you respond? A typical reaction people have in this situation is to feel highly uncomfortable being around someone who’s lost a job. Why is that?
Does a believer have any additional responsibilities or accountabilities that a nonbeliever wouldn’t have in a situation like this?
What if you “make it through” a downsizing and keep your job—what does the workplace look like? Do you do anything differently?

Develop Your Children's Gifts and Talents

Christopher de Vinck — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 06:00:00 GMT

When my son was just learning to talk, I carried him around the house in my arms and pointed out things to him. "Look, David, a clock." He'd smile, and point as I did and say "clock."

"This is a flower," and I'd point to a dried flower in the living room. "Flower." David was quick to connect the shape of things to their words and connect the two. Ever since those early tours of the house, David pointed and called out the names of things: cat, fork, pillow.

Cultivating My Son's Curiosity

When my son was about four years old, I remember walking with him to the back yard. We were just filling in some time before dinner: playing catch with a large, balloon-like ball, digging in the sandbox, and then I had an idea. I knew that there was an ant colony under one of the slate stones in the walkway near the shed, so I said to David, "Come on. I want to show you something."

We walked hand and hand out of the sandbox and nearly bounced across the grass. As I showed David the ants that were crawling around the slate stone, he crouched down on his legs and looked with great intensity at the ants.

"Now, watch this."

I dug my fingers under the lip of the flat, gray stone and slowly pulled it back to reveal the exposed tunnels of the ants. They were carrying white sacks, scurrying back and forth, hundreds of ants, and David looked and looked, and then he turned to me and said with delight, "There are so many!"

For days after that, David wanted to look under every rock in the garden, and we often found worms, ants, larva. I recognized that David loved to look at things closely and observe how things moved, and so I continued to point things out to him as he grew older: planes, shells at the ocean, the texture of the bark on the trees. David was a keen observer of things, and I just gave him the suggestions as to where to look.

From Curiosity at Play to Curiosity at Work

Today David is a medical doctor at Columbia University Medical Center. As a pathologist, he spends much of his workday in a lab looking through a microscope, determining the identity of hundreds of different cells, making a diagnosis, determining the extent of someone's cancer or the progression of a disease.

I did not know that David would someday be a doctor, someone who has to pay close attention to what he sees, and yet I felt compelled when he was a boy to encourage his enthusiasm for observation.

That is what teachers and parents do: encourage a child's enthusiasm for a particular interest: music, swimming, art, reading. And we provide tools for the children.

Discovering Gifts and Talents

I believe that all of us are born with habits of being that we inherited both from our ancestors and from God. A good teacher recognizes those habits in children and guides them towards their own sense of self and destiny.

If a child likes to draw, give him brushes, pens, and paper. If a girl likes to tap on the table top, give her a drum. If a child spontaneously sings, give him a microphone and a Frank Sinatra recording.

Blessed is the child who lives with parents and teachers who recognize the child's interest. An apple seed has the potential to explode into a full tree bearing fruit. With the right cultivation, a child will grow into what he or she was innately born to be.

Questions for personal reflection, online discussion, or small groups:

Read Proverbs 22:6 - "Train up a child in the way he should go [and in keeping with his individual gift or bent], and when he is old he will not depart from it" (AMP).
What is your individual gift? Who helped you find it?
If you have children or work with children, think about their individual gifts. How can you help cultivate their gifts?

The Parable of the Hostile Administrator

Christopher Smith — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 06:00:00 GMT

"Good morning," I said innocently to the office administrator as I came in to work on the first day of my summer job on a factory loading dock.

I was so stunned by her reply that I nearly fell over.

In a bitter retort laced with profanity, she demanded to know what was so good about it. She gave me a lingering hostile glance before turning away.

One of the older workers took me aside. "Don't let her bother you," he said sympathetically. "She's always in a bad mood. It's been like that for as long as I've worked here. She's that way with everybody."

My experience in the days ahead confirmed that this administrator truly was in a bad mood every single day. Even though I made a sincere and consistent effort to be kind and friendly, this seemed to have no effect.

After I'd worked for a few weeks on the loading dock, I was shifted to the maintenance crew. I was assigned to clean her part of the building! I cringed as I anticipated the kind of comments she might make as our paths crossed. Even though she wasn't my supervisor, I was sure she'd have plenty to say about my work.

Honorable Work in the Christian Tradition

Then I remembered a line from a poem I'd studied in one of my literature classes in college that spring. George Herbert wrote in "The Elixir":

"A servant with this clause makes drudgery divine: Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws, makes that and the action fine."

In other words, when Christians are doing even so humble a task as sweeping, they can make a room, and their act of service, "fine" or beautiful by doing it in obedience to God. It doesn't matter what anyone else says about it. The real audience for our work is in heaven.

Martin Luther King, Jr., once said something very similar: "If a man is called to be a street sweeper . . . he should sweep streets so well that all the host of heaven will pause to say, 'There lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.' "

A Biblical Call to Honorable Work

The advice these godly men were giving is solidly biblical. Peter wrote in his first epistle, for example, that we should give excellent service "in reverent fear of God . . . not only to those masters who are good and considerate, but also to those who are harsh" (1 Pet. 2:18). We can do this because our service really is being offered to God, not to those masters.

I didn't know this at the time, but the word translated "harsh" here can be translated more literally as "crooked," in the sense of a path that keeps turning off course. (Luke uses the same Greek word when he quotes Isaiah's prophesy that every "crooked" path will be made straight, Luke 3:5.) The term could apply to a master or boss who kept leaving the path of respectable authority. But it could also apply to someone who took a friendly greeting and turned it aside, making it the occasion for a caustic confrontation. In that case, Peter's words applied directly to my situation with the hostile administrator!

Even though I didn't know all this then, I knew enough to recognize that I couldn't use the woman's belligerence as an excuse for not doing my best. And so I told God that, no matter what she might say, I'd do my sweeping for Him. (And was it my imagination, or did her attitude begin to soften after that?)

One day I was working my way down a long hallway. I was concentrating on getting the dust and grime out from under the base heaters, so I didn't notice that someone was coming until I heard them stop right next to me. I looked up and saw that it was this administrator! I flinched as she looked at me, then at the floor, and then back at me. But for the second time that summer, I nearly fell over when she spoke.

"You do good work," she said.

Questions for personal reflection, online discussion, or small groups:

Read and reflect on 1 Peter 2:18-21:

. . . submit yourselves to your masters with all respect, not only to those who are good and considerate, but also to those who are harsh. For it is commendable if a man bears up under the pain of unjust suffering because he is conscious of God.
. . . To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.

Do you know someone like the hostile manager? How do you respond to people like this?
How can you make your daily work an act of obedience to God?

The Curtain Also Rises

Dena Dyer — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 06:00:00 GMT

"Here they are—our functional family version of a popular sixties' folk-rock vocal group," announced our coworker, Linda.

My castmates Russ and Wendy Hearn, my husband Carey and I—dressed up as the "Mamas and the Papas"—stood behind the theater curtain, ready to entertain the audience with a medley of "Monday, Monday" and "California Dreamin'."

But nothing happened. The audience squirmed, we shrugged, and the curtain remained closed. As Linda struggled to come up with some witty banter about live theater and how mistakes make us seem more human, the four of us looked at one another, mouthing, "What's going on?"

A Great Team Knows How to Improvise

Russ (who's also the show's creative and musical director), and the technical crew scrambled to fix the faulty mechanism preventing the curtain from opening. T.J., another cast member, did a bit of stand-up for the crowd. Then the singers fanned out into the audience and chatted with our fans, while the concession and box office employees offered free coffee and cookies.

It was just another day at the office for Rockbox Theater, a professional Christian-owned music theater in Fredericksburg, Texas.

Rehearsing and performing with T.J., Linda, Russ, Wendy, and our bandmates—Mark, Cass, and Jacob—is never boring . . . and always rewarding. As Christians and coworkers (most of us have been together for over a decade), we thank God every day that we have jobs we love, with people we actually like. It's especially unusual to find people with small egos, servant spirits, and laidback attitudes in the entertainment business.

God has truly given us a unique situation. We've all put in time on the road as touring musicians, and being able to tuck our kids in at night is no small gift. So is the fact that we truly are a team, and we're each others' biggest fans.

Teams Celebrate Together . . . and Suffer Together

That team mentality comes in handy when curtains break—or when tragedies happen. Three years ago, one of our partners in a previous theater was killed in a motorcycle wreck on his way to Fredericksburg to scout a new location for us. Tom was a friend, mentor, and father figure.

His death left a gaping hole in our hearts and the organization. And it made us question whether we should go ahead with plans to relocate our families to the hill country. A lot of sleepless nights and worn-out knees followed Tom's untimely death,as did spiritual growth and a new maturity.

As we all listened to God's guidance, separately and corporately, we forged a new bond of friendship and unity. No more were we kids playing at jobs too fun to be considered work.

Now, we had adult decisions to make: selling homes, training cast members (some of the entertainers from our previous theater were unable to move with us), finding new residences, enrolling our children in new schools, and keeping our sense(s) of humor and sanity intact.

It wasn't easy . . . and it still isn't. But God affirmed our move every step of the way, and Rockbox Theater is now thriving. The community has overwhelmed us with support and enthusiasm, and with God's help, we've found new friends, churches, schools, and fans that bless us way more than we could ever hope to bless them.

Our workplace isn't perfect, but we're growing in Christ, and each week when the curtain rises (hopefully!), we pray that God will allow us to release His joy to the people sitting in the seats, who've carved time out of their schedules and pocketbooks to support us.

And we continue to be amazed that we get paid to have this much fun.

Questions for personal reflection, online discussion, or small groups:

Reflect on Ecclesiastes 4:12: "Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken."
Who do you defend? Who are two people that you can rely on in tough times?
How healthy is the team you work with? What can you change about your actions or attitudes to help those teams function better this week?

Gains of Unemployment

Adelani Aderemi — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 06:00:00 GMT

The late 1980s were the days of military dictatorship in Nigeria with its attendant consequences on the national economy. I received my Bachelor’s degree in civil engineering in July 1987 in Nigeria.

Looking for Stable Work in an Unstable World

I didn’t receive a job offer until October 1990, when I accepted the position of Trainee Programmer in a Computer Software company. For four years I worked without commensurate reward. The business was growing, but the workers were not allowed to grow. Finally, I had to leave, after working without a salary for over thirteen months.

Then some friends and I started a business venture which failed after two years. It started as partnership problems. But while we were grappling with those, Nigeria erupted in a riot on June 12, 1994, when the Federal Military Government cancelled the results of a Presidential election. The riot was repeated a year later at Ibadan and most of the southwestern states. Many souls were lost in these riots.

We survived, but our business did not. So we packed up in 1996 with debts and hard feelings.

I left Ibadan city for Kano in the North only to join another sole-proprietorship. (We call it a “one-man business.”) I served there four years (1996-2000), but there were no standard policies. Everything happened at the whims of the CEO. For better or worse, I quit this job to look for reliable pay and job satisfaction.

Since I had no capital of my own and banks were no-go areas with their stiff interest rates and impossible collaterals, I teamed up again with some friends to start another business venture. This business failed again. I lost my investment three months prior to my wedding in October 2001.

Building a Stable Marriage in an Unstable World

I did marry, but my new wife, Suzan, and I were about to face seven years of trouble. Suzan lost her job. I lost my father. We lost money and valuables to armed robbers. We saw the vanity of relying upon others for help even as we saw the ways God used His saints to help us in our moments of need. And we had our son, Tayo.

Those years were a mixture of pain and joy for us. Humanly speaking, we failed, but God opened doors for us to prosper in the affairs of the Spirit.

I found temporary employment again as an IT Administrator on August 13, 2007. Looking back over these seven years, I can testify that a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. I have learned that if a man finds a good wife, he has found a treasure. And I learned to accept responsibility for my actions.

During those years, I struggled with the sickness of male chauvinism until I could accept God’s healing. God helped me overcome my struggles with alcohol abuse as well. Sometimes the difficulties of being out of work added to my character flaws. I became careless. I feared uncertainty. I almost forgot how to make long-term plans.

Breathing Life into a Dead Career

But God still called my dry bones to life. And he called the dry bones of my career to life as well. They rattled as bones joined to bones. Slowly, he added ligaments, sinews, and flesh and breath entered the nostrils.

Today, I am employed again to the glory of God.

Throughout those difficult seven years, we were very poor and could not afford many things, but the Lord faithfully provided us our needs in various unexpected ways. He also gave us all the gifts money could not buy—health, peace, revelation through the knowledge of his word, fellowship of the Holy Spirit and the brethren.

He taught us to plan with Him rather than within our means. It was the only way we ever ate or paid rent. But we learned the vanity of wealth without the wisdom of God. We saw rich couples who were still unable to rest and enjoy the fruit of their labor. There were so preoccupied with sustaining their status and wealth that they had no peace.

Our home was humble, but we were learning peace. Suzan and I prayed together, wept together, and laughed together in ways that only afflictions could make possible. God used the time to remind me in particular that heaven is my home, and it’s best to travel light.

During those dark years, I devoted more time to seek the face of God in prayer and study of the word. I began to know the value of solitude. What happened to me was very painful, but God used the pain to lead me to a fountain of living water. Those years helped me to build a solid foundation for my present work and ministry. Having known the comfort of the Holy Spirit, I believe I can apply this grace to comfort others in their afflictions.

Who are you to lose hope? What is it that you are going through? Do not look at your feeble strength; do not concentrate on your weakness. Rather, thank God in your weakness, for in it God’s power is made perfect.

How tall is the giant confronting you? How mighty is the mountain on your path? Compare your giant or mountain with God himself. His footstool is the whole earth.

Questions for personal reflection, online discussion, or small groups:

Are you going through a difficult time in your career? What can you learn in the struggle?
Read the story of the dry bones in Ezekiel 37:1-14. Imagine God breathing life into you and your career and your family.
What can you be thankful for in your weakness? Thank God for those things.

Spiritual Steps on the Road to Success

Becky Garrison — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 06:00:00 GMT

I've lost count of the recent conversations I've had with friends who've found themselves adrift these days. How do we define ourselves when we can no longer look to a career that provided us with both financial security and a sense of identity? While no one product can provide a cure all for an ailing economy, Dr. Linda Seger's book The Spiritual Steps on the Road to Success helped me to refocus my priorities moving forward.

In this book, she notes how a successful career seems to need certain elements. First and foremost, we start with a basic question. Am I using my God-given talents in a way that contributes to the welling being of others in ways that adds value and goodness to the world? Seger places spirituality into this equation, which she defines as a sense of connectedness with God through one's work.

Connect with God through Your Work and Talents

She acknowledges that while we do need to be able to make a living, we don't need to be rich or even make much money in order to be successful. People are, according to Seger, when they earn a livable wage while using their talents to benefit others. Throughout the book, she notes that we maintain success by keeping our connection to God alive and following wherever God might call us.

Even though someone might be performing good deeds, if they still feel empty and unfulfilled, Seger suggest that either they're not doing the right work for them or they don't have the right relationship with God through their work. Even if we have many material things, if the spiritual side of our lives is not being fulfilled, we are missing an important part of success. Our job should bring us a sense of something that is Good beneath the surface. Good work fulfills us by helping us recognize our contributions, and our connections with others. It is fulfilling.

Seger's Definition of Success at Work and Life

Seger's book was at the printers before the current financial crisis hit, so I asked her via email how she'd redefine success in 2009. She agreed that not having money can bring a great deal of worry when one cannot meet the basic necessities of life. But she added that she's never defined success in terms of how much money or things people have. This means her definition of success remains constant regardless of the current economic indicators.

For those who have had to rethink their career trajectory as a result of losing their jobs, Seger suggests that time off can help people re-evaluate careers and re-think work as contribution rather than work as something we do to get paid. Those facing unexpected free time could give to others through volunteer work, which might test their calling by doing something for free in the field that they are interested in pursuing. People can still contribute and add value to the world and use their God-given talents, in spite of the fact that they aren't being paid for it. Volunteering has the potential to help us recognize our calling. If we're willing to do something for free, chances are, we really like it. And volunteer work can lead us to similar jobs that we can do for pay later.

Throughout this book and in her emails, Seger reminded me that times of financial uncertainty can teach us to put our trust more in God, not as the God who makes us prosperous, but as God the Provider. Often, we need far less than we think we need. These times can help us put our focus on the true things in life, not just the trappings of success that society teaches us.

Questions for personal reflection, online discussion, or small groups:

Think about movies, news, TV, and the internet. What does our culture teach us about success?
Think about your own work. What parts of your daily activities help you connect to God?
If some activities do not help you connect to God, how might you change the way you approach those activities?
Peter says, “If anyone serves, he should do it with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 4:11). Do you think of God more as one who makes you prosperous or one who provides for your needs?

The Case of the Disappearing Painter

Christopher Smith — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 06:00:00 GMT

"Now where has my painter gone?" the man wondered as he looked out the window. He'd hired a college student to paint his garage. He'd done this kind of thing before, as he was always glad to give a little work to someone trying to earn his way through school. Now that he was getting older and was no longer quite so steady on a ladder himself, it was a real help to him too.

The man was paying by the hour. He knew that young people sometimes needed help developing a good work ethic, so he had been glancing out the window from time to time to make sure his painter stayed on the job. He'd been gratified to see him work steadily throughout the morning, diligently scraping off any chipped or peeling paint before applying a new coat. The student had said he was an experienced house painter, and observation seemed to confirm this.

But now, in the middle of the afternoon, the student was nowhere to be seen. The man kept checking regularly, but only after a couple of hours did the student finally reappear and continue painting the garage.

Late in the afternoon the student finished the job. He came in and submitted a statement of his hours. It was for an entire day's work. Did he think he could fool an old man?

His employer delicately broached the subject of honest accounting.

"For a while," he began, "I couldn't see you out there working."

The student looked puzzled, so his employer continued. "You were gone for a couple of hours, in the afternoon. You know I can't pay you for time when you weren't on the job."

Finally the student understood. "If you couldn't see me, it must have been because I was behind the garage," he explained.

"What were you doing there?"

"Painting the back wall," he stated matter-of-factly. "I had to spend a lot of time cleaning off dirt and cobwebs so they wouldn't mix with the paint. And it was a pretty tight squeeze, since the wall of the neighbor's garage is right behind it. That's probably why you couldn't see me for so long."

The man was amazed. "I've hired a number of people to paint for me over the years," he commented, "but you're the first one who's ever painted the back wall of my garage. Why did you do that, when no one can see it?"

The student had no answer. He shifted silently for a moment. He seemed to be trying to figure out why anyone wouldn't have painted the back wall.

Then the man understood. He recalled that this young man shared his Christian faith and asked, reassuringly, "Was it because you knew God could see it?"

Relieved, the student answered, "Yes, I'm sure that was why."

"Well then," the man concluded, "you're a very thorough worker. I asked you to paint my garage, and that's what you did—every inch of it! I'm very pleased to have a garage that's so clean and freshly painted, even where only God can see."

He paid the student a full day's wages.

As this true story illustrates, sometimes the excellence of our work will be apparent only to God. The little touches that make the difference between “good enough” and excellent will not always be noticed by our employer or by our coworkers. But the Bible tells us to give our employers our best anyway, “not only to win their favor when their eye is on you, but as servants of Christ, doing the will of God from your heart. Serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord, not people, because you know that the Lord will reward each one of you for whatever good you do” (Eph. 6:5-8).

When we use our abilities to do our very best, even if no one else sees, we give God pleasure and glory. And that's always a good day's work.

The Joy of Work

Bradley Moore — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Several months ago, I was offered a very exciting CEO position with a fast-growth company in a glamorous industry. At least it seemed so at the time, compared to my current job. We spent a few weeks negotiating, but right before anyone signed anything, the whole deal fell apart because some "accounting irregularities" were uncovered. Oops. It sent the business into a tailspin for a while and eventually the owners sold out to an investor group who, of course, wanted to choose their own CEO.

Thank God the mess came out of the woodwork before I committed to it. But afterwards, I was left with this empty feeling, wondering how I was going to go back to my real, now very boring by comparison, existing job (the one that was still paying me) with any enthusiasm. By comparison, my current job seemed entirely mundane and beneath my capabilities. Maybe, I thought, the job offer was a nudge from God pushing me forward, a sign for me to move on, to start looking for another position somewhere else—a hint that I had outlived the useful life of the current company and position I was in. God does that sometimes, doesn't he?

I kept ruminating about it, getting more and more disappointed and disgusted with my current station. Yes, I'm sure of it. God has Bigger Plans For Me! I decided that I must consult with my Leadership Coach and Mentor, Dr. Payne, about this. I desperately needed a business advisor to help me make some important career decisions.

Dr. Payne is a British chap with a great accent and terrific sense of humor—kind of like Monty Python with a briefcase. And that refined British accent somehow makes him sound very, very smart and commanding, like I should do exactly as he says, no matter what, right now! It turns out that Dr. Payne also has a passion for helping working stiffs like me find more spiritual meaning in our careers and work life.

I met with Dr. Payne the next week at my office. I immediately unloaded my great burden on him, working myself into a lather about my untapped, underutilized, unacknowledged leadership potential that was completely going to waste. He let me rant for a while, and then he gave me some advice:

"As we get older and approach midlife, it becomes more important to find joy in what we are doing rather than what we can achieve. Do you agree?

"Sure thing, Doc."

(What I was really thinking: "I don't want joy. I want a major career upgrade! I want the stock grants and the IPO in two years and those business trips to Europe and the Caribbean!")

Dr. Payne definitely had the advantage here because he is about 15 years older than I am, so he might know something that I haven't thought about yet. He talked about how things that were important to us when we are young do not bring us the same fulfillment as we start getting older. In order to stay happy and productive, we need to shift the way we look at our lives. He continued.

"Because when we do things that bring us joy, it will ultimately bring joy to others. And then God opens up his pathways for us and you will begin to experience his abundance. I have no doubt you will find your way to discover God's purpose for your career. But right now I want you to spend the next few weeks paying very close attention to the things that bring you joy as you go through your workday. Write it down for me."

Okay, joy isn't actually so bad. I'm sure I could benefit from identifying the activities that bring me joy, since I've been so cynical and grumpy at work lately. In fact, to be honest, I haven't really thought about joy in my life much at all. Joy is good. Good idea.

Over the next few weeks, I kept track of the things that brought me joy at work. Surprisingly, this was not difficult. It turns out there were many things about my job that were enjoyable. And keeping track of it kind of helped me to gravitate more towards those activities I found joy in. For me, they were things like working on high-level strategy projects, initiating major change, mentoring other guys in their jobs. When I stopped to pay attention, there were actually a lot of interesting things going on with my job that I truly enjoyed. I think I had been so focused on what I didn't have, or what I thought I should have, that I was missing the opportunity to make the most of what was right in front of me. And maybe Dr. Payne was right. Maybe if I just keep focusing on the things I'm good at, the things I enjoy, then that tremendous new career opportunity would show up at the right time. I decided I was going to have a better attitude about my current job.

Isn't it funny: after just one meeting with Dr. Payne, I realized that I have been so focused on my career and the next big advancement, the next promotion, the next ego-boost, that I had forgotten how to think about life in more simple terms: fun, gratitude, relaxation, joy.

Dare we say that Dr. Payne was sent by God?

Going Home at 5:00 p.m.: A Sign of Disloyalty?

Christopher Smith — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 06:00:00 GMT

"And now," my boss said, "we come to the part about improvements you can make."

She was giving me my first job performance evaluation since I'd become a writer-editor in a government public affairs office. After a series of short-term assignments through a temporary employment agency, they'd hired me on because they liked my work. My boss's comments so far had reflected this satisfaction: she'd said I was learning the job well, that I had the skills they were looking for, and that I followed through effectively on projects. But I suspected there might be a question about my commitment.

The people in this office had developed a culture of staying late. I recognized that the particular demands of our work required this from time to time, and I'd been willing to do my part. We wrote speeches and news releases for government officials, and many of these were time-sensitive. When necessary, I'd even gone over to the legislature after hours and worked directly with members in their own offices to meet deadlines.

But I had been concerned that a tendency to work overtime could feed on itself. I'd actually heard colleagues say aloud that since they were going to be staying late anyway, they didn't need to get to some things immediately. I honestly wondered whether it wouldn't be possible to go home at 5:00 most days if I did try to get to things right away.

Going home was important to me because of a commitment I'd made to my wife when we were first married. I'd promised to make every effort to be home with her in the evening and on weekends, rather than at work. We both knew that we had to invest time in our relationship if we wanted it to grow strong and healthy. Naturally there were some times when I'd had to make exceptions. But I wanted them to remain exceptions, not to become the rule.

And so on several occasions, I'd appealed requests from my boss to work late. I'd promised to be in the office first thing the next morning so I could get projects done before their mid-day deadlines. My boss had been willing to let me try, and so far I'd been successful.

But there were many times when I had to run a gauntlet of raised eyebrows and disappointed head shakes as I walked towards the door at 5:00. Staying late actually seemed to be an unspoken measure of a person's dedication to this team, and I was creating a conspicuous exception to the office culture.

So when my boss reached the part of my performance evaluation that dealt with improvements that could be made, I was sure that this issue would come up.

It did. But not quite the way I expected.

To this point my boss had been reading from the evaluation, using it for talking points in our conversation. But now she turned it around so I could see it. The space provided for "improvements" was blank!

"What was I supposed to write there?" she asked, with a conspiratorial expression on her face. " 'He goes home'? We should all go home!" And then she handed me the paper, nodding at the box she'd checked on the bottom. It indicated a very positive overall appraisal.

I thanked her warmly for the evaluation, we exchanged knowing smiles, and I went back to work. As I headed to my desk, I thanked God for giving me a boss who had proven so supportive and understanding. I knew it had been a professional risk to challenge the corporate culture. I could imagine that in another workplace, things might not have turned out so well. But in this case, my boss had respected and affirmed the commitment I'd made to be diligent in my work but not to let it encroach on family life.

I worked in that office for another couple of years. People heard about how I'd "gone home" but hadn't been marked down because of it. As word spread, I had more and more company going down the elevator at 5:00 o'clock.

The Family that Gets Laid Off Together

Rey Lopez — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Today, many families are facing the challenges of financial uncertainty. Much of the current population has not lived through a widespread financial downturn, and there is a sense of underlying stress throughout our communities. If you speak with my friend Dennis, though, he would tell you that his own personal financial meltdown started long before the one facing our nation.

Dennis, his wife Ava, and their three daughters, Shay, Bethany, and Leesha, are an amazing family with a deep faith in Jesus Christ and a profound commitment to one another. About two years ago, Dennis found himself in the unenviable position of either being fired or resigning from his job. He had come to a crossroads with his boss and was able to see that there would likely be no reconciliation of their differences. He chose to walk away. What he wasn't expecting was that he, his wife, and their three daughters would begin the most challenging and stressful time of their lives.

A viable job would prove harder to come by than Dennis first expected, and he eventually had to move his family out of their spacious home into a 400-square-foot, one-room, one-bathroom structure in the back of his parents' home. Imagine a family of five, including three teenage girls, living in a place one-sixth the size of what they were used to.

Embarrassed, frustrated, and fearful, the family had to band together to weather the two-year ordeal. I had the opportunity to sit with them and ask them how they were able to not only survive, but also actually thrive in such a situation.

Teamwork was the clear overriding value that brought this family through the fire of financial hardship. It's so easy for us to retreat into our caves when faced with stress or adversity. It's almost intuitive. For Dennis and his family, living in a 400-square-foot dwelling put them in a situation where they were unable to run and hide from one another or their conflicts. They faced things head-on and dealt with them quickly.

Dennis had come to blame himself for the financial struggles of his family. Second-guessing himself on the choices he had made through the years, he doubted his adequacy in caring for his family in the manner they deserved. His family, especially his daughters, refused to let him continue down that track. Seeing the potential for him to beat himself up, they committed themselves to affirm, love, and respect their dad. This was no time for blame; it was a time for love, affirmation, and support.

As I've come to know Dennis and his family, I've observed that they are fiercely committed to one another. In fact Bethany, the middle of the three daughters, said that she was glad for the last two years of their life, because it helped them all to see that the most important component of life was not their "stuff" but one another. Financial security can be a fleeting notion.

The love of money can be the "root of all kinds of evil"(1 Tim. 6:9-11, NLT).

As we've seen this past year, the economy can crumble around us. But the people in our lives—our friends and family—remain constant and have the ability to give us a truer sense of security.

We are facing a financial crisis, to be sure. Rather than allowing what we fear to dictate our lives, let us lean upon those closest to us—and upon God. We can support one another when we rely on him for our stability.

How I Learned to Listen to My Coworkers

Keith Miller — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 06:00:00 GMT

When I decided to take my faith to the office, I would pray as I drove to work and parked my car that I would remember to be God’s representative in that oil company’s exploration office. But I was shocked to realize that when I got into my office and looked at what I had to do, I didn’t even give God a thought until I got back in my car to drive home.

Then I tried praying for people in the office after I arrived, but realized I didn’t know anything about them.

So I finally put a 3x5 card in the lap drawer of my desk with a pencil on top of the card. When anyone came into the office, I opened the lap drawer and took out the pencil, glancing at the card. I’m not sure how the message on the card was worded but in effect it said to me, “Keith pay attention to this person. I may have a message for you from them. God.”

That’s how I began to listen to people and ask them how they were. Over the next few months, something started happening. I discovered that most people had problems, pain, frustration, hopes, and dreams they didn’t usually talk about. Those sophisticated business people came in and just sort of opened themselves and let me see their inner lives. And I soon realized that there were enormous personal problems, loneliness, and searching among people in the oil exploration business.

Several years later, I had met some other Christians in the oil business through my good friend Bill Yinger (who encouraged me and helped me more than he knows). Through Bill, I was hired by another oil company and subsequently became that company’s exploration manager. One day when the vice president in charge of our office was overseas, I said silently, “Okay, Lord, I’m going to get involved with any of these people who want to pray about this business.” I didn’t think we ought to meet together on company time, but I thought, “I’ll have a meeting with them before work and maybe we can find out how to be Christian business people.”

Among the men and women in that office were a Buddhist, a Jewish fellow, all kinds of “believers,” and some who did not claim any kind of religion. But I went to their offices to invite them and, since I was a manager, they listened to me.

I said, “We’re on a pretty fast track in this business, and I’d like to pray about what’s happening and what we’re doing here together. I’m a Christian. I don’t know if you are or not, but if you’d like to pray together, I’m going to come early, at seven thirty, and have a little coffee. If you want to come, fine. If you don’t, no sweat.” That was Friday, and I said, “We’ll start Monday—for any of you who’d be interested.” (I had a conference room next to my office that would give us privacy.)

All that weekend I kicked myself all over the house. “Why’d you do that?” I said. “You’re a stupid fool!” (Not that I have any pride, you understand.) I often have what at our house we call “cringers.” For instance, sometimes I have said something at a party that seemed “real clever” at the time, but when I’ve gotten home and remembered what I had said, I would grimace and shake my head, saying, “Oh no, why did I say that?” And so I was cringing all during the weekend about having been so vulnerable at the office. What if no one came? I’d feel terrible.

But on Monday, I went in early, and of the fourteen people in that office, almost all showed up. We began to talk together and share our feelings. After a few weeks, the secretaries began to pray for the business and for the executives in our office, and the executives began to pray for the secretaries and for each other. We learned that we were all just persons who were struggling to live the best way we could in our circumstances.

After six months, people from other companies would walk in the office and say things like, “What kind of a deal do you have here? These people are sure friendly.” We didn’t necessarily say anything about Jesus to visitors; we just loved them. I kept a journal through all this time and was amazed at the way my life changed. I felt more a part of the lives of the people with whom I worked. As I listened and let them know me, I began to feel love for them. And in a way I could not understand, I felt deeply that we were not alone in that hard-driving, secular business we were building.

Questions for Reflection:

Read 1 John 4:17. “When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God, and God lives in us. That way love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us." Is your daily work a life of love?
Think about the people around you in your daily work. How can you pray for them?
Does your daily work allow the opportunity for a group devotion or prayer? What might that look like?

____________________________________________
Keith Miller was the founding director of Laity Lodge. If you'd like to subscribe to Keith's free weekly devotionals, send an email to orders@keithmiller.com.

Miracle Dogs for a Struggling Family

Bradley Moore — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 06:00:00 GMT

A few weeks ago our family spent the weekend watching some old videos from when the kids were little. I had filmed a series of "a day in the life" routines to capture my little girls on tape, recording moments of them singing, playing, laughing, running, and riding bikes. Those little girls were so precious. They seemed so happy. So did my wife, Beth and I. Something about reminiscing makes you gloss over all the stress and chaos that was going on at the same time.

One scene in particular will stick with us forever. It is filmed in the dead of winter after a heavy snowfall. In fact, it's a snow-day for the entire family! We celebrate by bundling up our little girls, three and six years old at the time, and take them out to play in the winter wonderland.

It's eerily quiet in the neighborhood, other than the crunching of boots on the snow and the sing-song of little-girl chatter. The snow is a deep, fresh powder, and the afternoon sun has begun to peer through the clouds in the sky. I'm videotaping the girls sledding down the little hill in our yard, with their little snowsuits and saucers. Suddenly, out of nowhere, two beautiful fluffy white dogs appear in the scene, walking up the street towards our house. As they get closer, the two dogs spot the girls and begin to make their way up the little hill in our yard to greet them. What's odd is that these dogs were not from our neighborhood. We had never seen them before. But they were magnificent. They looked like some kind of Magical Christmas Dogs that had fallen out of a snow globe in the sky. They were pure, snow-white identical twin Samoyeds—big, regal, and stunningly beautiful dogs.

In the video, these happy beasts calmly approach our daughters and sit down, panting, smiling. It was as if this was their destination all along, like they had journeyed all the way from the frigid tundra of Siberia to finally meet the little Moore girls. The regal presence of these stately animals immediately transforms the scene from a suburban lawn into an enchanted Narnia Fairy Tale. My daughters, of course, are enamored by their fluffy new friends on a snowy day. We ooh and ahh while the girls embrace the dogs, digging their hands and faces deep into the fur. They snuggle for a while.

The twin Samoyeds bring a sense of serenity, tranquility, and a strange nurturing presence to the scene. Watching the videotape, you can hear Beth and me talking softly in the background with a quiet wonder as I'm recording the scene:

"Where did those dogs come from?"
"I don't know, but they're beautiful!"
"Can you believe how they just walked right up and sat down next to them like that?"

Then we stop talking, and it's very quiet. In the stillness and silence, all that you hear is the sound of the snow blowing in the light winter breeze, and the girls hugging the dogs. We watch for a while, taking it in. Then, as I'm filming, those dogs turn their attention from the girls and begin to look directly into the camera, right at Beth and me. Right into our eyes, like they have some kind of secret, ancient wisdom, as if they know all about us, as if that they've been watching us. They were just checking in.

No one said anything as the dogs stared at us.

After a few minutes the dogs leave just as randomly as they arrived. But there is not another person in sight. Nobody is walking the street with a leash. No master calls the pets back inside. They just run off and disappear into the woods. We never saw those dogs again.

I tell the girls that these were God's angels visiting us.

And I really believe it.

Reading through the journals I kept during that period, I realized Beth and I were going through some tough times. Some days felt like the world was going to crash in on us. But it's funny that as we watched ourselves on TV that day, we all wanted to go back there, back to that time. I wanted to reach in to the screen and say, "Hang in there, guys, it's all going to be just fine. You'll see! You're doing great."

I couldn't, of course, but God could. And he did. Whether the dogs were really angels, doesn't matter. God used them to touch us with the beauty and truth of his world. Sometimes the heavens declare of God. Sometimes dogs do.

Questions for Reflection:

Read Psalm 19:1-2.
The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they display knowledge.
Has the beauty and truth of God's creation touched you lately? How?
How could your daily work help others see the beauty and truth of God's creation?
Are you going through tough times? Share your worries with God in prayer.

The Water of Life

Luci Shaw — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 06:00:00 GMT

[Jesus said] Those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life. John 4:13-14

Hydration! We're well aware that water is the essential element for life and growth. We can live for a short while if deprived of food, but we wither, shrivel, and die without water. We not only need this vital fluid to sustain our bodies, but for multiple other uses—bathing, washing, cleaning, and cooling—and when our water supply is limited, our lives get dessicated and restricted.

Recently I joined fifteen other members of our church and went with an NGO group, El Porvenir, to Nicaragua, one of the world's poorest countries. Our task was to help make pure water available for a remote mountain community. Their women had to walk two miles to a river to do laundry, to bathe, and to get water for drinking and cooking, which they carried back on their heads to their small, primitive dwellings. Their lives and needs were simple. Their everyday food consisted of rice, frijoles (red beans), tortillas, and bananas. Some of them had chickens that clucked their way in and out of the dirt-floor shacks, so eggs were available. But water? The cost in time and effort made it doubly precious. Not a drop was to be spilled or wasted.

Over several years, El Porvenir staff have developed ways of tapping into Nicaraguan underground aquifers and installing hand-cranked wells, capping them to prevent pollution. Once the wells are in place with a roof over them, the next step is to set up lavanderos, "wash houses," with preformed cement tubs and built-in washboards for doing laundry, as well as individual stalls where villagers can bathe in private.

Our job was to mix cement and form level floors for the wash house. I found I was pretty handy with a shovel! Once the work was finished and the concrete was hardening, we knew we'd made life a bit easier for these families. Can you imagine the relief the women and children felt at having water so easily available? They kept flashing brilliant smiles at us and saying "Gracias! Muchas gracias!" "Gracias a Deo!"

Water is a vanishing resource around the globe. Drought affects millions of people, resulting in famine, starvation, and death. How miraculous that Jesus provides for us a well already dug, a spring of water flowing for the life of the eternal spirit, a resource that will never dry up! Have you ever considered your house of worship or your times of private prayer or conversations with a believing coworker to be a "wash house"? Think of them as places where you can come and drink freely, like a cup of cool water, from Jesus—refreshment, not brief and physical, but ongoing into eternity? All it takes to tap this divine faucet is trust, confidence that Jesus is with us in our daily life and work, that he hears and answers us, changes our lives for the better, and promises a transformation that will be everlasting, never subject to climate change or mortality.

Bringing God's Kingdom to the Post Office

Ed Cyzewski — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 06:00:00 GMT

I had a pile of birthday cards, thank you notes, and some important business mail bundled up for the post office one morning. I forgot to swing by the post office in my hometown, so I dropped in at another one in the next town on my way to the café—my favorite spot to write.

My mind was still clouded with work when I stepped up to the post office counter and noticed the clerk wasn't making eye contact with me. Her counterpart whispered into her ear, "He's on the phone with the hospital because he has chest pains." I saw the postmaster walking to the back room with the phone to his ear. The clerk in front of me glanced in my direction and told me all I needed to know through her eyes that bore the marks of fear, pain, and heartache. Tears crept out.

I passed along my envelopes, handed over exact change, and moved toward the door, wanting to give her some space. I stopped just shy of the door when I realized that I needed to pray for the postmaster and the two clerks. In fact, God brought me to that spot at that time to pray for safety and healing.

My prayer was made all the more urgent when an ambulance sped by with blaring sirens.

Just stopping to pray for this man made me realize something. God may have plans for my career, but that's no excuse to ignore the needs I see every day. While praying, I realized I was doing the most important thing in the world at that moment—asking for God's loving touch on another person.

I'm shocked by how stingy I can be with blessings, to say nothing of how I overlook God's concern for the people I meet every day.

On days like this, I realize my default orientation is insular and self-serving. God is pushing his people outward, sending us out of our protective inner circles to those who are broken and in need.

A few days later, I stopped in the post office to find the post master standing at the counter. "The other day I heard you were having chest pains," I said while handing over a bin of mail. "How are you feeling?"

"Great. It was only a severe muscle spasm," he replied. "Thanks for asking."

"I want you to know that I felt a strong burden to pray for you that day," I said.

"Well, it sure worked. I really appreciate that," he replied.

The line behind me grew as we chatted, and so we left things at that. I don't visit that post office very often these days, but as I drive by I'm often reminded to continue praying for the good people working there.

I pray that we can continue to take these steps toward God's Kingdom as we go about our daily work each day.

Less Valuable and More Serious – Work and Life as a Sketch

Scot McKnight — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Julian Barnes, an atheist, claims that he '"misses God.'" In the midst of his reflections on a life without faith wracked by a haunting fear of death, Barnes reflects on the impact belief in heaven would make on his every day working life. '"But if life is viewed as a rehearsal, or a preparation, or an anteroom . . . then it [our present life] becomes at the same time less valuable and more serious.'" It appears that Barnes, if he were to believe in God and a heaven, would see life now as speck of time swallowed into eternity. Therefore, our life now is '"less valuable.'" But because there would be an eternity, life now would become '"more serious'" because what we do now matters for eternity. But, as Barnes puts it, he misses God and therefore he misses a life that is shaped by eternity.

The believing Roman Catholic British novelist, J.R.R. Tolkien of The Lord of the Rings fame neither missed God nor eternity. Were Tolkien alive, he might counter Barnes and argue that our lives now are '"both more valuable and more serious.'" In a typical manner, Barnes confuses Christian belief in heaven with Platonism. Plato believed our bodies and earthly lives really don’t matter and that what really matters is our immortal soul. Such a mistaken view of Christianity alone makes life on earth '"less valuable.'" We dare not underestimate how a Platonic worldview affects our view of work. There is a better Christian way, and Tolkien worked it out for us in a short story called Leaf by Niggle, a wonderful tale about a little silly man named '"Niggle.'"

I love this story, and I can only hope that my brief summary of the plot will lead you to obtain a copy through your local library or through some used bookstore and make the story your own.

Niggle was single, and he lived next to the Parish family in an out of the way place. The lame Parish and his needy wife were demanding and ungrateful neighbors. Niggle’s passion in life was to paint leaves, but his kindhearted nature made him a likely person on whom others relied. He wasn’t always happy about his willingness to help Parish and others—by patching roofs and running errands—but he helped anyway, sometimes with a curse under his breath. Most importantly for Niggle, these interruptions kept him from getting his leaves painted. Like Barnes and the Christian tradition, Niggle knew death was coming. Tolkien describes death as a future '"troublesome journey'" with a '"Driver'" who will take him into the next life.

Tolkien’s sketch of Niggle’s daily passion, his painting, opens up for us a powerful image of how to see our work. Niggle, he observes, '"was the sort of painter who can paint leaves better than trees. He used to spend a long time on a single leaf,'" he adds. But one of Niggle’s paintings began with a leaf caught in the wind, and then it became a tree with '"fantastic roots,'" and then a country began to develop behind it, and there was a forest and mountains with snow.

Niggle’s Driver came. After his death, Niggle spent some time working in an intermediary place until a Porter took him to heaven itself.

It is here that the genius of Tolkien’s theory of work, and I would like to say a genuinely Christian theory of work, comes to life. Niggle receives a bicycle and he goes '"bowling downhill in the sunshine'" until he realizes the turf under him reminds him of another '"sweep of grass.'" Then he sees the '"Tree, his Tree, finished.'" It is the Tree he '"had so often felt or guessed, and had so often failed to catch.'" He sees it all as a gift. Ah, the leaves—they were all there, as he had imagined them but never been able to paint quite right. Some were there that had only budded in his mind. The Forest, too, as well as the Mountains—they were all there. (And Tolkien’s use of capital letters shows just how important and serious his earlier labors were, but now they stood there in reality, utterly perfect.) Niggle learns that this little piece of heaven is called '"Niggle’s Picture'" and Parish will be with him, and Parish will live in '"Parish’s Garden.'" Over time all that remained on earth was a corner from one of Niggle’s paintings. The folks hung it in a museum: '"Leaf: by Niggle.'" As if to make mortality fully clear, Tolkien tells us that the museum burned down one day.

Perhaps the most magnificent dimension of Tolkien’s vision is that Niggle continued to paint, and he found more to paint as he got nearer and nearer to the borders of his picture. The theology here is a theology of work: what we do now is a glimpse of what we will do then. What we do now prepares us to do what we will do then. What we do now will become the raw materials of what we will do then. What we do now, however incomplete and however below even our own standards, will one day be swallowed up into God’s redemptive perfection and our work will radiate with God’s own glory. The notion that heaven, and I’d prefer to call it the New Heavens and the New Earth, is simply singing in a heavenly choir and that we will float from one praise service to another and that our bodies and jobs will all be left behind is Platonism. That view is not biblical.

Recently Tom Wright, in his stunningly helpful book Surprised by Hope, makes the case for a massive continuity—much like Niggle’s discovery—between this life and the New Heavens and the New Earth. That continuity alone renders what we do now as both more serious and more important than perhaps we realize. Tolkien tells that story of continuity and perfection in the story of Niggle and his painting of leaves.

Let us paint the leaves God inspires in us. Let us also know that what we do now matters and let us do all to the glory of God, for one day those tasks will unfold into what God designed them to accomplish. Let us also know that our frustrations and our imperfections and our failings to realize what we think God wants to do through us now will be perfected someday. Let us know, therefore, that what we do now is a gift from God and that it is God’s work in us now that animates the work we are called to accomplish.

Leaf by Niggle ends with divine joy: '"They both laughed. Laughed—the Mountains rang with it!'" Can you hear that laughter?

---------------------------------------------------

Read more from Scot McKnight at his blog Jesus Creed.

[1] Julian Barnes, Nothing to Be Frightened Of (New York: A.A. Knopf, 2008), 59-60). The italics in the last clause are mine.

[1] I have used Tree and Leaf (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1965), but the short story is found in a number of Tolkien readers. The story was written in 1938-1939 but not published until 1947, in The Dublin Review. The story has a few interpretations, not the least of which is an allegory of Tolkien’s own commitment to a life of art and writing.

The Grass Withers, but the Relationships Don't

Christine A. Scheller — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Twelve years ago, ornamental horticulturist Bruce Neary got the news no valued employee wants. He was being laid off. His employer, a wealthy New Jersey businessman known for the elaborate landscaping at his four luxurious properties, was going to prison for defrauding investors. Bruce went from managing those properties to doing whatever it took to feed his young family.

The newly unemployed father diligently sent out his resume. Despite holding a BA degree in Ornamental Horticulture from Rutgers University (where he teaches in the off-season) and an agricultural MBA from Texas A&M, he got nowhere. In the meantime, friends and acquaintances began asking him to do small jobs: planting a tree, painting a house, etc. He would take the seats out of his wife Betsy's mini-van, load it with materials and go to work. One day, Betsy suggested he stop sending out the resume.

BCN Horticultural Services has grown over the years through word of mouth alone. Bruce has never advertised and has kept overhead low by working from home and renting supplies whenever possible. This year, after earning a BA degree in Ornamental Horticulture from Virginia Tech, the Neary's son Brenden joined the business. Together this highly educated and highly skilled team seeks to glorify God in its work.

Bruce says he tries to be a blessing to people by eliminating their anxiety. "We'll do anything from planting geraniums to a $150,000 installation job. We tell them, 'You don't have anything to worry about. We have your best interest at heart.' " He says it's a tough sell because people are often skeptical of contractors' motives, but he views himself as a steward of their resources. Brenden adds, "We treat their property as if it is our own. . . . We're more concerned with people than with the landscape."

Sometimes spiritual conversations are spurred when a customer sees the Scripture verse embossed on the company's letterhead. The motto is Isaiah 40:8: "The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God stands forever." Other times, conflict with a client becomes an opportunity for prayer. If a customer unjustly attacks, Bruce probes to see if something deeper is going on. He says, "We're very in tune about building relationships. If we run into nasty people, we look past them."

Brenden sees his role at work as that of being an ambassador for Christ. "You have to do literal good work in the work place. . . . There is nothing in the Bible that talks about God being pleased with shabby work. If you're going to do something, you've got to do it to the best of your ability, and if your ability allows you to do something with a lot of detail and quality, don't cheat people out of that."

How does the family nurture its own relationships? Betsy, who is responsible for administration and container planting, says, "We're very upfront about feelings. We don't hide them. We spend time working out problems." She explains, "I think Brenden had more trouble with me than he has with Bruce because he knows more than I do, and yet there was an aspect of the business that I was responsible for and had been doing for a long time. We had to work that out."

The Nearys have expanded in uncertain times. They're adjusting to the economic downturn by honing their skill set and being better stewards of their own resources. They are more willing to compete for jobs that in the past they would have let go, and they are learning to deal with clients who suddenly can't pay their bills. At this point, Bruce is unwilling to seek remedy through the legal system or collection services. He says, "The Lord can retrieve my money, and if he doesn't retrieve my money for me, then we don't need it."

Still, he concludes, "I'm always somewhat nervous. I was nervous when Brenden came on board, and I knew I had to pay him $750 a week. . . . Everybody in the world can tell me I have the resources; it'll happen; but there's no way I'm going to believe that for a period of time." To counter his own anxiety, he builds his faith through prayer, Bible study, and relationships with other Christians.

Bruce says that working for a highly demanding boss prepared him to run his own business. "I did not believe there was anything I could not do because I was asked to do crazy stuff." It is this kind of tenacity and can-do attitude that keeps BCN Horticultural Services thriving in uncertain times.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Christine Scheller is a widely published freelance writer. Her blog Christineascheller.wordpress.com is a part of HighCallingBlogs.com, our online community that focuses on work and God. The picture is an actual lawn maintained by Bruce Neary.

Finding the Furious Longing of God

Becky Garrison — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 06:00:00 GMT

"I'm Brennan. I'm an alcoholic.
I'm a Catholic.
I was a priest, but am no longer a priest.
I was a married man but am no longer a married man.
How I got to those places, why I left these places, is the story of my life.
but it is not the whole story.
I'm Brennan, a sinner saved by grace.
That is the larger and more important story.
Only God, in his fury, knows the whole of it."
— The Furious Longing of God

I first met Brennan Manning at Soularize in the Bahamas back in November 2007. In a room full of PhDs, pastors, and bloggers, this white-haired man with patchwork pants seemed small and out of place. He didn't fit in with the other attendees decked out in Bermuda shorts and fair trade T-shirts or some other form of beachwear. During this conference, I was too absorbed in my own junk to really hear Brennan's story. Also, he spent much of his time when he wasn't speaking sitting off by himself. Like me, he seemed to be all alone in a sea of people.

Even though we didn't connect in person, when I picked up his books Abba's Child and The Furious Longing for God, I felt an immediate bond with this dude, who is just as messy as me. We're both kind of raggly in our own ways.

Manning's books are not for the faint-hearted searching for a quick fix recipe for how to achieve spiritual success. This is not the simple story of a former Franciscan priest who had a drinking problem but then sobered up when he found God and went on to achieve even greater glory for God.

Rather, Manning confessed of a life that drove him onto the streets with nothing to his name except God's love. But instead of wallowing in the pains and problems of his life, Brennan talks about how God's love literally saved him. This "love" wasn't mere fuzzy sentimentality but rather an expression of God's deep desire to know and love us fully and that includes those dark parts of ourselves we keep hidden from the world.

His stark honesty as he bore his scar tissue of his life brought tears to my eyes. I wasn't expecting a book to connect with me on such a visceral level. Through Brennan's story, I saw how I had veered off the path. For all of my talk about how we need to put the Greatest Commandment into practice, I wasn't exactly practicing what I preach. During the past year, I had been focused so much on trying to "do good" and "help people" that I had failed to love them just as they are. When several people let me down, my anger got the better of me and some things came out of my mouth and pen that were more critical than Christlike.

God longs to connect with me. In order for me to connect with God, I must also connect with others in love. During Lent, I took a fast from Facebook and limited my interactions with blogs and the Internet in general. This online fast gave me the opportunity to reflect on how quickly a simple disagreement can erupt into a full scale blog war, where we go from critiquing others to slamming their souls. After detangling myself from a rather messy series of email exchanges, I concluded that I will use emails more to relay information and that I need to resolve conflicts face-to-face or over the telephone. These moves have put me in a place where I find I am more able to receive and give love to my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ.

As Brennan reminds us:

The outstretched arms of Jesus exclude no one, not the drunk in the doorway, the panhandler on the street, gays and lesbians in their isolation, the most selfish and ungrateful in their cocoons, the most unjust of employers and the most overweening of snobs. The love of Christ embraces all without exception.

May I never forget that message.

When the Wheels Come Off

Donna VanLiere — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 06:00:00 GMT

I grew up in the '70s and '80s when parents still told their kids to go outside and play. My friends and I would spend all day in the yard. When we got hot and sweaty enough, we'd run to the back patio, open the water spigot on the side of the house, and get down on our hands and knees so we could get low enough to turn our mouths up for a drink of water that splashed all over our faces and down our necks. In the evenings, I remember seeing my parents shaking their heads as they watched the oil crisis in the 1970s unfold on the nightly news. Gas prices skyrocketed to 73 cents a gallon! "Turn it off," my mother would say to my dad. "Good grief! The wheel's are coming off, but they make it sound like the world's ending."

Like me as a child, you probably hoped for a life that would exceed your dreams; but as those dreams collapsed along the way, you've simply wished for a soft wing of hope but instead have gotten life in a culture of ungrace. That's not a word, but it should be. If you don't know what ungrace is, just listen to most people who didn't vote for any sitting president, watch how fast Hollywood turns on a star who no longer sells at the box office, or turn on the news anytime during the day. Ungrace pulsates in our workplaces, communities, and in the media and tells us that regardless of what has happened, we must do better, look better, and make ourselves better. But to love and accept someone regardless of their flaws and failures is a breath of hope in a world that turns more upside down than right side up. That is the gift of grace. It's being dirty and smelly and turning your face up under the spigot. Sometimes the wheels need to come off—you need to get pretty low before you appreciate grace.

The wheels are coming off for my friend Lisa. She's the owner of a beautiful clothing store for women. She's put her heart and soul into the store, but then the economy tanked and people ran scared (even those who still had jobs and owned their homes). Trouble is, she did everything right: paid her mortgage, creditors, and bills on time . . . so she doesn't qualify for help.

The wheels are coming off for my friend Jacob. When he took his vows, he never envisioned this animosity, anger, or separation.

The wheels are coming off for my friend Gerri. She finished chemotherapy and is beginning nine weeks of radiation for breast cancer. It wasn't her dream, but she's added it to her daily schedule: go to work, get groceries, go to hospital for radiation, do laundry, make dinner.

When we plan our lives, no one ever says, "When I grow up, I want to get a divorce, maybe two!" Or, "When I grow up, I want to lose my house, my business, and my life savings!" Broken dreams are never part of anyone's plan. We tie our plans up with ribbons and bows and aim for the mountaintop but end up in the valley.

In Finding Grace (St. Martin's Press, March 2009), I relate a story of walking with my second grade class to the library when a sixth grader spit on me. He didn't intend to spit on me, but I was fortunate enough to be the one to pass at that exact moment. My teacher, Mrs. Brewer, cleaned me up, but when I looked down at my maroon polyester blend turtleneck, I could see the white tissue particles clinging to where the snot had been. "He blindsided you," Mrs. Brewer said. "That's how it goes sometimes."

At some point, life blindsides us with something far greater than a giant loogie. The diagnosis, abuse, foreclosure, broken marriage, death, or financial collapse brings us to our knees. Though we try to clean ourselves up the best we know how, we're still left with the stain of it all. "That's how it goes sometimes." True. But isn't there more? The beauty of grace says "yes." There's more love after the infidelity, more joy after the diagnosis, and more life after the financial ruin. Chris Gardner, the bestselling author of The Pursuit of Happyness was once asked how he and his son were able to overcome the shame of homelessness. Gardner said, "We were homeless, not hopeless!" Chris knew he was living on the streets, but he was still living. That's grace.

Grace is always present and always near, but it's easy to miss—things aren't always as they appear. I just returned from Winnipeg where The Christmas Hope is being filmed in a house. In previous months, the homeowner fell off a ladder and broke several ribs. During x-rays, it was discovered that he had cancer. That break-up, closed door to a job, or fall from a ladder may not be as devastating as you think but an act of grace that will save your life and help you discover higher dreams.

In a country of excess, we suffer from a deficit of grace. In the last few months, I've watched two stories on the news of men losing their jobs and then killing their entire families and themselves. In another story, a man lost his job after twenty years. "It's heart wrenching," he said. "But I still have my family and we're all together." That's the hope of grace speaking, and it beats the alternative any day.

Last week, my friend Lisa liquidated merchandise and said, "It kills me to close this store, but I know God still has a plan for me." That's grace at the end of a shattered dream.

My friend Miriam's husband was devastated over their loss of money in the stock market. "How much do we have left?" she asked. Embracing and recognizing what is left is grace at the end of an economically depressed rope. There is life-altering power in that.

I once attended several Alcoholics Anonymous meetings for research. A man said, "I was a drunk for fifteen years. I lost my wife and son because she couldn't take it anymore. One day I woke up and said, ‘What the hell am I doing? I need to live.' " For fifteen years, the noise of his life drowned out the voice that said he was worthy, needed, and loved, but then came the day that he finally heard it. That wake-up call to life is a gift from God. With what strength that man had left, he turned his face up toward that spigot of grace and let it splash all over him.

Finding grace in a culture of ungrace seems an impossible task. But grace is present, it is real, and it is an indomitable gift that has the power to change your life. Grace does come with one condition—like any gift, you have to reach out and take it.

----------------------------------------------------------

Finding a Marketing Shoe That Fits

Sam Van Eman — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 06:00:00 GMT

We live in the age of awareness. The world feels smaller, its problems are clearer, and its solutions—so they seem—are more manageable. No longer do I picture Africa as a distant place with insurmountable, unimaginable trials. I just see a $10 mosquito net. Creative framing and ingenious invitations have made getting involved a snap. And the sheer number of opportunities provides even the tiniest niche of people with something to do.

Since folks are in the market for buying causes, marketers are in the business of selling them. But not all cause marketing is created equal. Sometimes it misses, and sometimes the shoe fits just right. Here are three variations of cause marketing and why it matters that we know the difference:

Make the cause secondary
Make the cause solitary
Make the cause primary

(RED): Make the cause secondary

According to their website, “(RED) is a simple idea that transforms our incredible collective power as consumers into a financial force to help others in need. (RED) is where desire meets virtue."

Huge brands like Dell and Gap have partnered with (RED), and they claim to have helped 2.5 million lives so far. I like this. What I don’t like is making the cause secondary to the allure of becoming a celebrity.

Bob Garfield, Advertising Age ad critic, makes the following comment about Dell’s 2008 Super Bowl commercial: “The Dell commercial doesn't even try to sell people on charitable giving. It turns the (RED) laptop into a sort of chic magnet . . ., the aids crisis turned into an Axe commercial.”

This approach misses the mark.

15 BELOW JACKET: Make the cause solitary

You can't read the small text in that image, but here's what it says: "EMERGENCY BLANKET: An oversized (40" x 60") poster, printed on newsprint, is sent out to homeless shelters with each 15 Below jacket. As the poster unfolds, one side shows how the coat works with simple illustrations and instructions printed in multiple languages. The other side of the poster features a large image of a blanket. The idea is to tear the poster into strips and stuff it into the multiple pockets of the 15 Below jacket to act as insulation. Stuffed with newspaper, this jacket will insulate the body, helping to ensure survival through the night. In this sense, the medium is more than the message. For someone living on the street, it could be a lifeline."

In this very different example, the cause isn’t the secondary point or even the primary point—it’s the only point: Help the homeless. I don’t believe altruism exists, so I’d guess there are other reasons for this campaign. Nonetheless, it comes undeniably close to acting like Jesus and I like it. Marketing firm, TAXI, made this super cool, highly practical, well-made, necessary coat for the homeless. That’s it. No need to buy anything to get one. You can’t even buy one for yourself.

The campaign inspires me to be hopeful: “Then the King will say to the advertising agency on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For. . . I needed clothes and you clothed me . . .’ ” (From Matthew 25:34, 36).

Check out the site here and wait for it to load – it’s worth it.

TOMS SHOES: Make the cause primary

My third example shifts away from the selfish desires of the first and the more purely philanthropic nature of the second. TOMS Shoes, a for-profit shoe company, sells a product. But it makes a cause primary. Just read their blog. The cause fueled “Chief Shoe Giver,” Blake Mycoskie, to begin this venture, and it fuels his entire global team of employees, interns, and vagabonds. Their cause: “For every pair purchased, TOMS will give a pair of shoes to a child in need. One for One."

Like the (RED) example, TOMS relies upon our consumer power. Unlike (RED), however, it doesn’t depend upon our desire for stuff. It doesn’t make charity a residual effect to shopping. Rather, it comes first. Yes, you get your own pair of shoes, but more as a Thank You and not as an incentive.

I like this model because it shows a decent relationship between Jesus’ call to care and the room God makes for marketing in the created order. I don’t know how well Blake Mycoskie knows Jesus, but we can appreciate the way he’s found a marketing shoe that fits. And we can applaud his social media marketing agency for doing such a good job with the concept.

As your awareness grows, pick a cause (or causes) to stand on. Just don’t settle for anything. Bad shoes hurt.

------------------------------------------------------------

Sam Van Eman is the author of On Earth as It Is in Advertising and the blog New Breed of Advertisers. He is a very active member of HighCallingBlogs.com, an online community that focuses on work and God.

Using Technology to Lead and Love People

Dustin Steeve — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Editor's Note: In this article, Dustin Steeve refers to the upcoming Christian Web Conference. TheHighCalling.org is proud to be cosponsors of the 2009 Christian Web Conference with the Torrey Honors Institute. Register now to join us at the conference in Los Angeles this Fall and hear Mark D. Roberts (director of Laity Lodge) and Marcus Goodyear (senior editor of TheHighCalling.org) in person.

Near frenzy appears to drive the creation and adoption of web technologies. Just when one masters a blog, here comes a Twitter feed. When MySpace finally makes sense, Facebook changes the paradigm. If you’re a working professional you’re no doubt LinkedIn, check your Gmail on your BlackBerry, and periodically find your head in the tag clouds. As the Senior Director for GodBlogCon, now called the Christian Web Conference, it was my job to be aware of emerging web technologies and help you, the web savvy Christian leader, employ them effectively for the cause of Christ.

When I first was asked to assume leadership of the conference, I was excited. I am a leader at heart and have always dreamed of running my own company. I am especially attracted to the web industry. I observed that smart, trendy young people work for web-based companies. Many of our cultural geniuses and top CEOs reside on the top of mountainous tech companies. Tech is a booming industry and opportunity abounds. Who wouldn’t want the respect, power, and credibility of Microsoft’s Bill Gates? To this day, I really think that the web is going places. I see the web as our new social scene, our new town square. The web is full of useful tools that can plug us into its bustling commerce and social scene.

Through my work with the conference these past three years, I observed Christians giving mixed responses to the web. Some dismissed it as a source of porn and other unchristian indecency. Others saw frivolity or luxury in web based expenditures, preferring to reach people through time-tested, traditional media.

And yet to some Christians, the web appeal was strong. These Christians saw opportunity for local, national, or even global outreach via web technologies. Like these visionaries, I saw grand opportunity for Christians through use of the web. My head filled with ideas about employing web tools for evangelism. When I assumed leadership of the conference, I was hoping to help lead Christians to become masters of web technology, to create a place for themselves in the mainstream media of tomorrow. However, my early desires to conquer the web for Christ were put into a right perspective by the professors at my great-books general education program, the Torrey Honors Institute at Biola University, and Ken Myers of the Mars Hill Audio Journal.

At Torrey, my professors challenged me to think more deeply, to see through the glamorous digital façade of the web to consider the real-life people behind that façade. Professor John Mark Reynolds succinctly gave reason for this when he said,

“Virtual reality is dependent on plain old reality, so it cannot escape harming or helping the souls on line. Because it’s so dependent on the world of concrete, neon, electricity, and physical bodies, it will never replace them. People are not just minds, but minds in bodies. To really know me (all of me), you have to know my whole self which includes my physical self.”

Effective Christian use of the web cannot merely be gauged on site “hits,” awards, or even revenue. It must help people live more Christian lives on- and off-line. Ken Myers pushed me further in my thinking when he reminded me that technology often shapes one’s interaction with the world. “To a kid with a BB gun, everything becomes a target,” Myers said at GodBlogCon in 2008. Myers cited several media ecologists who remarked on the decline in young people’s ability to read deep, extended texts due to habits cultivated by their fast-paced, keyword-search-based web surfing. Myers challenged me to think about the consequences of shallow reading. If the web teaches us to be shallow readers, what does this mean for Christians’ ability to read the Scriptures well?

If we are to fulfill our calling to love our neighbors, then we ought to think beyond mere mastery of our craft to the lives of those who use our products and how those products shape a person’s interaction with the world and walk with God. In the case of the web, conferences like the Christian Web Conference provide a place where Christian leaders can come together, become aware of the latest technologies, but also be immersed in deeply Christian perspective on their impact on the lives of our neighbors. If Christians are going to be leaders using online tools, we cannot lose sight of the web’s potential; simultaneously we cannot be blinded by the flashiness of the web. A leader’s foremost consideration must be the people for whom the web can be useful and how the technology is shaping their lives.

Working and Growing Backwards

Jonathan Dodson — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Mark Twain humorously noted that it would be better if humans were born at the age of 80 and worked backwards. This backwards growth would afford us all the wisdom we would need to navigate the challenges of life. Another great American author F. Scott Fitzgerald picked up this idea in a short story called The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, recently popularized by the film starring Brad Pitt and Kate Blanchett.

It is an interesting idea and curious story. It seems all of us are short on wisdom, but as the Curious Case proves, even being born 80 doesn't solve all our problems. Still, what if we approached work, family, and leisure with the wisdom of our elders?

Life-Maturing Wisdom

In his book The Making of a Leader, Robert Clinton identifies six stages of a leader. The stages include: Sovereign Foundations, Inner Life Growth, Ministry (or Vocational) Maturing, Life Maturing, Convergence, Afterglow. Clinton's comments regarding our "Life Maturing" stage got me thinking about growing backwards.

He notes that this phase of life, typically occurring in our 40s, begins with intentional and extended reflection on life. This period of reflection is often forced onto us by life circumstances, a major conflict, growing children, or life crisis. What would happen if we began to cultivate these patterns of reflection at an earlier age? What kind of people, families, or communities would emerge? We might become more concerned about how God can shape us through conflict and life—and less concerned about merely navigating our conflicts and challenges. Clinton writes:

During Ministry [or Vocational] Maturing, we attempt to constructively navigate conflict; during Life Maturing, we instead tend to focus on what our conflicts say about us. Overall, relationship with God starts to become far more important to us than ministry success [or workplace success]. Ironically, as we begin to care less about the results of our ministry [or work], our effectiveness, satisfaction, and attractiveness as ministers [or employees] suddenly begins to grow. Our lives become an object of imitation. We are not merely appreciated for our work, we are admired as people.

Reflecting, Not Just Navigating, Through Conflict

Are you driven by work, family, success? Are you more concerned with managing conflict than being sanctified by conflict? How can you begin to care less about results of vocation and more about discipleship through vocation? If we want to imitate Christ, periods of reflection and prayer will be important. Imagine if we became so obsessed with God's agenda in our conflicts, challenges, and vocations that others appreciate our Christlikeness more than our "work."

Reflecting through conflict instead of merely navigating it is not a popular process. In general, our culture values success, results, and output over sanctification, maturity, and reflection. Our busy lives run against the grain of such extended times of reflection. Turning around is hard. However, the result of becoming more process-oriented and more reflective will lead us into more fruitful living, parenting, and community building.

You could start by taking a weekly walk in the woods, alone. Go to a coffee shop without a laptop or PDA. Refuse to answer emails for a day—and journal instead. Have extended discussions with your friends and spouses about what God wants to teach each of you through the challenges and conflicts of your lives.

Reflection is inspiring. Cultivate time for it. Prayer can draw us deeper into communion with God who wants to fill us with wisdom.

Acedia, Rehearsals, and Me

Dena Dyer — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 06:00:00 GMT

When we open a new show at the Rockbox Theater, the professional theater where I work, I thoroughly enjoy the audiences' reactions to the hours and hours of practice put in by our cast and crew.

What I do NOT enjoy is the rehearsal process itself. I've been involved in singing and acting for most of my life, and I still abhor rehearsals.

It's just so much work.

I admit it—I'm lazy. While I love the spotlight and the actual performance aspect of live theater, the long hours spent away from my kids, hobbies, friends, and home frustrate me. I have to keep reminding myself that without the "boring-ness" of repeated rehearsals, our crew of singers and musicians wouldn't be successful. Self, I say, God wants you to be a good steward of your talents. That means putting in gobs of time . . . mostly in obscurity. And I continually tell myself that excellence of any sort takes hard work and discipline.

The irony is, I abhor acedia when I see it in other people. Kathleen Norris has talked about this idea of spiritual apathy in her recent memoir, Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer's Life.

A few years ago, an aspiring actress who worked at a burger joint asked my hubby how to break into the arts. He suggested she audition for her local theater and take acting lessons. But she waved off his advice, saying, "I'm good enough already. I just need someone to notice me."

I was appalled at her attitude. And I have a feeling she's still selling burgers.

But I see the same tendency in my kids—especially regarding chores and schoolwork—and I know they're probably getting it from dear old Mom. I hate this bent towards laziness in myself, and I truly am praying about it.

After all, acedia is most definitely a spiritual problem. Proverbs is full of scriptures touting the blessings that follow discipline, and the hardship that results when it's absent. Hebrews 12:11 says, "No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it."

In our media-drenched society, a governor-turned-presidential candidate or aspiring singer can go from obscurity to fame in seconds. Hard work and discipline are no longer the only ways to achieve lasting success (Paris Hilton, anyone?). But in the spiritual realm and the other areas that really matter—parenting, marriage, friendship—the things that last are those that take the most time and effort.

I long for the harvest of righteousness and peace mentioned in Hebrews. But that harvest won't come if we're lazy, sitting around and hoping for it. Each day, we have to rehearse the truths God has given us. We must sit with the Word and meditate on (and with) our Savior. As we continually surrender to God's work in and through us, he will produce holiness.

This high calling takes hard work.

It takes my time.

It takes my discipline.

Abundance and Service

Mary E. DeMuth — Sun, 07 Jun 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Years ago, my husband and I met a friendly couple in our church who invited us to a party. As I put my coat away in their bedroom, I noticed charts everywhere tacked to the walls—proof the couple was gung-ho about a particular business venture.

"I think I know why they had us over," I whispered to my husband. He couldn't believe they would invite us just to introduce us to their business, and he smirked when they mentioned nothing of it that evening.

A week later, we received a phone call from the couple, imploring us to become a part of their amazing business. We declined. They never invited us over again.

Several years later, I sat at a church luncheon next to a woman I hadn't met. She asked, "What's your passion in life?"

Though I hadn't expressed it publicly, I felt God nudging me to say, "I want to be a writer."

She smiled. "Really? Do you know what one of my passions is? To help develop and train new writers!" The result? This professor and published author mentored me. Her servant's heart changed my professional life forever.

Two truths contradict each other when business and Jesus collide: To win in the business world, you have to market yourself, your product, your wares. Yet Jesus didn't come to earth to be served. He came to serve others without expectation of reciprocation. How do we reconcile marketing that appears self-serving with Jesus' admonition to serve others? By exploring fear and abundance.

Our friends' pressure to join their venture unmasked their fear. Worrying about making enough money, they leveraged each new relationship in the church to meet that goal—and then moved on to another church. But the author, who struggled financially, freely gave her expertise and time to someone who couldn't necessarily benefit her. She gave from a place of God's abundance, from her belief in an upside-down kingdom where eternal rewards resulted from simple obedience.

Fear will cause some people to exploit others, but recognizing God's abundance in the here and now, as well as the not-yet, compels us to bless others with our service.

In fact, forsaking fear and embracing God's abundance helps us serve others in four ways.

1)   God's abundance replaces insecurity with confidence.

John wrote, "Beloved, if our heart does not condemn us, we have confidence before God; and whatever we ask we receive from Him, because we keep His commandments and do the things that are pleasing in His sight" (1 John 3:21-22). When we're insecure, we tend to see people as pawns for financial gain. This attitude does not please God. But when we start obeying him in every aspect of our lives, we have the kind of confidence we need to view customers as fellow image-bearers who deserve to be treated the way we ourselves love to be treated. Our settled confidence in God's goodness is contagious, spilling over into the way we treat people.

2)   God's abundance takes focus off yourself and places it on those you serve, making you both attentive and savvy.

Placing yourself in the customers' shoes gives you keen insight into their needs, their habits, their frustrations. When in those shoes, you create better products, services and technologies. You've heard it before, but customer service is ultimately about understanding customers and meeting their felt needs.

3)   Abundance gives you the long view.

Making an immediate sale is tempered by cultivating life-long loyalty. When you go out of your way to serve people, you connect with them. Even if they never buy anything from you, your service will be a gift to them.

4)   God's abundance puts marketing in perspective.

It's not that marketing or selling is evil, but like anything, it can consume us, particularly in this faltering economy. If we know we are ultimately provided for, marketing becomes more about enhancing someone's life, generating great service, and providing information or a product that benefits the customer. Having abundance actually enhances the marketing experience.

The couple that invited us to their party are a blip in our life story, but the author who gave of her time sacrificially is one of my best friends today. You can bet I buy every book she writes. She served me from the abundance of her heart. As a secondary result, she earned a lifelong customer. She typified Jesus' words, "For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many" (Mark 10:45). Serving as Jesus did will produce surprising rewards and keep our hearts in the right place when we market.

Wake Up and Go to Life

Christopher de Vinck — Sun, 31 May 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Many people are no longer blessed with the gift of combining their professional work and their family lives.

During the 1700s and 1800s, our nation was an agrarian society. Fathers woke up in the morning and spent the entire day out back on the fields or tending to the cattle or harvesting the hay. Children carried buckets of milk to the house or jumped in the haylofts. When they were older, they worked beside their fathers tending to the soil. Life wasn't easy, but families worked together.

Today many of us have to separate our work from our families. How many children really know what their fathers and mothers do in the offices or factories?

For many years I was blessed with two worlds: the world of my work as a teacher and the world of my work as a family man. I shared with my children what I learned about education: reading is essential, cooperation is paramount. I promised myself that I would not let my work interfere with my wife and children. I only prepared lessons and graded papers when the children were tucked away for the night. I didn't work on Saturdays or Sundays, for those days were reserved for day trips, church visits, Dairy Queen ice-cream cones, and visits to grandma's house.

It was never difficult for me to create appropriate boundaries between my work life from my family life, because I tried to make both my work and my family essential qualities of what it means to be a father and husband as well as a participant in the broader society.

Many people fall into a habit of cutting off their work-selves from their family-selves. The headaches of the moment, the pressure of deadlines, the difficulty of securing new customers, can send us home exhausted. We can easily slip into habits where we'd rather eat a sandwich and watch a football game instead of taking a walk with our husbands or wives, or reading to our children. Ah, but there are solutions.

We need to find what makes our work holy. When my three children were in college, I remember walking up four flights of stairs on my way to my office saying aloud, each time I stomped on a step: "College, room, and board! College, room, and board!"

Perhaps we need to build into our lives a bit of early paradise. Every two weeks, when my father went to the bank on Monday evenings, he'd return with a half gallon of icecream, the only time we had icecream as children. My father gave his family a simple, loving treat that added a simple purpose to his day's labor.

I like to add little reasons for my labor whenever I can. I think of it as creating an Oprah moment. We know so well how Oprah Winfrey likes to surprise people with gifts, cars, vacations, or with surprise visits from long-ago friends. Each day, when I go to work, I come up with something that one of my coworkers might not expect: a compliment, an article I found in the newspaper, a get-well card, and then I share this little story with my children. It was a wonderful way to connect the family dinner conversations with a day's work and with the people who are in my building.

It is easy to fall into the daily grind: wake up, go to work, come home. Instead, we have the ability to create a grace-filled day: wake up and go to life.

We have the ability to make our jobs our personal duty to integrity, a job well done. What we do can be connected to the people we work with and to the people who wait for us at home.

While we have lost the community of families working together in the fields, we still live in a world among those we love both at home and in the office.

The poet Archibald MacLeish wrote, "The labor or order has no rest." It is our responsibility to create order no matter what our job and no matter what our family life is like. If this order is created in the context of our own high calling to do our best, to exist in a loving society, to honor God and ourselves, we might very well see the fruits of our labor.

Numbering Your Days and Your Finances

Virginia Stem Owens — Sun, 24 May 2009 06:00:00 GMT

So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

(Psalm 90:12, NKJV)

Numbering my days is an abiding preoccupation with me, now that I am 67. And the larger that number grows, the more I am conscious of the need to apply my heart to wisdom. Or as the King James Version says it, “to get a heart of wisdom.”

Actuarial charts show the average lifespan of various populations based on their current age. For example, according to numbers supplied by the Social Security Administration, as a woman, I should expect to live another 17 years and nine months. This number can be further refined by factoring in such categories as sex, economic bracket, smoking history, and occupation. One of the most important factors is genetics—how long your own parents lived. Mine lived into their eighties. If I follow their pattern, I should probably overshoot my predicted number.

So should I count on another twenty years? Do I want another twenty years? Not particularly, considering that my mother lived the last decade of her life in the throes of Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s diseases. Those years were a trial to our family and a nightmare for her.

Moreover, my own bodily afflictions, minor though they are compared to hers, on some days make me eager to shuffle off this mortal coil.

Actuarial charts supposedly help with numbering our days as Psalm 90 encourages us to do. But when I apply my heart to wisdom, I confront other truths. First of all, actuarial charts deal only with averages, not individuals. I might die sitting here at my computer at any moment. For none of us really knows the full number of our days. We can only count them day by day, one at a time. Pondering one’s end may be wisdom; trying to predict is not. At best, such an attempt is pointless. At worst, it leads to fear or disappointment.

So what is the point of numbering my days? How does it get me a heart of wisdom? Psalm 90 (vs. 10) also puts the average lifespan at seventy—which would mean three more years for me. “Or by reason of strength, four score.” That would yield another thirteen.

I try that on to see how it feels. How would I live if I knew I had three more years? Would I blow my shrinking retirement nest egg in three years on big travel plans? Would I pay for my graduating granddaughter’s first year in college? Or would I buy my husband the Jaguar he’s always wanted?

Would I live differently if I had thirteen more years? I’d probably just choose a new fence for my chicken yard and dole out the rest in cost-of-living increases . . .

Linking longevity to my financial resources isn’t simple materialism. If one‘s heart lies where one’s treasure is, following the money can show me what I truly value. And knowing where my heart and treasure is—that can be wisdom.

Short-Attention-Span Prayer

William Griffin — Sun, 17 May 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Some years ago, Alan King conducted a series of interviews meant to be an oral history of comedians, especially stand-ups. In conversation with Jerry Seinfeld, King, a rather splendid comedian himself, said to his guest, “Unlike other comics today, you work clean.” By that he meant that Seinfeld didn't use the F-word or its correlatives in his routines. But later in the same interview, both used the J-word (Jesus) in a casual, expletival sort of way.

At the massive insistence of censorious Christians, traditional television networks have been bleeping the F-word right along. Oddly, they're no longer bleeping the J-word as an expletive, and the Christian audience isn't uttering a peep of protest.

As a lifelong member of the publishing community, I'm a libertarian when it comes to the use of words. Hence, I wouldn't restrict the use of the F-word or the J-word in whatever context, holy or unholy. But a personal problem arises. My whole spiritual life has been based on the word Jesus.

In Catholic elementary school, I was taught to do a head bow, albeit a modest one, every time I read or heard the name Jesus; in sixty years I haven't missed once.

I spent eight happy years as a Jesuit (member of the Society of Jesus). The religious order did nothing to exaggerate devotion to the holy name, but the name of Jesus was always surrounded with great warmth and affection.

In the New Testament, there was Philippians 2:10: “at the name of Jesus every knee should bend.” These words are now thought to come from a very early Christian hymn that was gaining popularity in Philippi.

In the fifth or sixth century, there was the Jesus prayer. As a prayer, it seems to have its source in Matthew 20, where the blind cry out twice, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us” (30-31). As a repetitive prayer, it gets encouragement from Jesus at the end of John, where he says to the apostles, “Up to this point, my dear friends, you haven't used my name when asking the Father for something. Use it; it works; it really works” (16:23-24).

In the fifteenth or sixteenth century, the litany of the holy name appeared; in it Jesus is invoked as, among other things, father of the poor, treasure of the faithful, good shepherd, true light, eternal wisdom, infinite goodness, our way and our life.

When all is said and done, “the name of Jesus is at the heart of Christian prayer” (Catholic Catechism, 1997). Indeed we could do worse than spend the rest of our frenzied prayer lives exploring the wonders of this holy name, but it wouldn't be easy.

In a microwave, toaster-oven sort of world, as Joan Rivers has pointed out, we stand in front of our electronic cookers, urging them to frialate faster.

In a downsizing, right-sizing sort of world, corporations make themselves leaner and their workers meaner; they have to do not only their own but the work of those who've just been laid off.

In a Jiffy Lube, SpeeDee Oil Change sort of world, we meet ourselves coming and going, but could the saints do any better?

Could John of the Cross contemplate the dark night of the soul and go through a revolving door at the same time? Could Teresa of Avila step onto an escalator in her interior castle without messing up her meditation? Could Francis of Assisi, so prone to trance, pray ecstatically and ransom captives at the same time?

Dumb questions all, but for those of us who are working stiffs in a Times Square, Tianamen Square sort of world, these examples show how difficult it is to work and pray. After all, it's a Right Guard, Ban-Roll-On sort of world we sweat in. A Bird's Eye, Burger King sort of world we eat in. A Google, Wikipedia sort of world we do our research in. A Nytol, No-Doz sort of world we try to sleep in.

However uttered, in whatever form, the sweet name of Jesus may be the last, best, short-attention-span prayer the contemporary Christian can utter from Monday through Saturday.

“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.”

An afterthought:

Every blasphemy bothers me, unsettles me to the point of wanting to deck the blasphemer; alas, that would be breaking one commandment to defend another. But to maintain some sort of spiritual balance, I've had to come up with a mischievous if mystical thought. Suppose that, when the J-word is tossed around with reckless abandon during the course of a come-dressed-as-you-are bunkhouse brawl, Jesus isn't offended. Not only that, suppose he comes, as he comes to all those who utter his name in moments of need or praise. Is that so far-fetched? If the New Testament is any indication, Jesus has done some of his best work with unpromising people in questionable surroundings.

Growing Through an Economic Winter

John Poch — Sun, 10 May 2009 06:00:00 GMT

I have a little garden plot in the alley behind our house where I try to grow a few vegetables throughout the year. In the Lubbock winter, it is hard to grow much of anything, but I usually have some lettuces struggling and beets or garlic maturing for a spring harvest. I discovered, by accident, that spinach can weather temperatures into the teens, though it grows mighty slow during the winter. I had tried planting a few rows of it early one December and after a particularly hard freeze, most of it looked wiped out. I thought I'd just let it die and replant come March.

But there were about eight little seedlings that somehow survived. So instead of digging them up, I ignored them—thinking they'd die as the others had. But they held on and when spring arrived, they took off, those eight little plants. We ate spinach for weeks, even giving some away to friends.

During the cold, dry, and less sunny days of January and February, those spinach plants were establishing their roots, entrenching themselves and building below the surface. When the hard season was over and the spring rains and sunny March and April arrived, they burgeoned with the leaves fatter and greener than I'd grown in the best weather.

No soldier goes directly into battle without training and teaching, though he may be eager to defend his country. No lawyer appears before the high courts before she serves as a clerk and works smaller cases, little by little establishing a foundation in jurisprudence. And even if a soldier, lawyer, or a person in any other profession “pays his dues” and “proves himself,” there will be setbacks, periods that don't seem exactly fruitful.

But say your work does flourish; it could be too early and another cold snap could wipe you out. Last year on the high plains, we had a warm late winter when the trees went into early bloom followed by a hard freeze. There was no fruit, no pecans to be found in Lubbock or the surrounding counties.

As a writer in academia under the pressure of “publish or perish,” I only need go through a time when the words are not coming or are not getting published, and I begin to think that I'm in trouble. But even when it seems I might not be productive, I know deep down that if I'm careful, the words, sentences, and the wide-reaching roots of language are there under the surface, maturing, readying themselves for that time of harvest. I submitted my book to publishers and contests for ten years before it was finally published. My second followed four years later. My third collection of poems is following only a year after. I was working (mostly!) all along, establishing those roots below the surface, and the fruit of my labors finally came to the point of harvest. And now? Winter may be around the corner, so I need to recognize that periods of growth come in cycles. If the season is right, I am ready to plant again, do what I can, and let God and nature do their more powerful work.

Are you in a physical or spiritual or economic winter? Is the weather of your workplace an inhospitable climate where little can grow? Do what you can but realize that there are things beyond your control. Weather, for instance. Hold on. Pray. Let your faith establish itself, and let your “roots” go deeper, realizing that it might not be time to flourish. Let suffering and patience produce perseverance producing character producing hope and a bounty that you and others can feast on.

Assuming Positive Intent

Mary E. DeMuth — Sun, 03 May 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Around Mother's Day, my family took me to the local nursery and let me buy an abundance of bedding flowers. The kids brought me breakfast in bed, and my husband Patrick made brunch, complete with homemade chocolate croissants and crab soufflé.

My youngest, Julia, brought me several cards she'd made in different venues: home, Sunday school, and the fourth grade. Sophie, my eldest, created an elaborate many-lined poem, mostly rhyming. She included several coupons for chores around the house, promised to be completed with joy.

Time went by.

Aidan, my son, was in his room rummaging around. Finally, he came down and handed me a torn piece of notebook paper: his card. It said, "I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day."

Patrick said, "Aidan, you could've taken more time on that."

"But Dad," Aidan said, "that's what I want to say. I can't help it if I can't make long, involved cards."

I'm sure I looked disappointed. Even so, I thanked Aidan, gave him a hug, and we went on our day. Still, I wondered why he'd thoughtlessly scratched out a 30-second card. I got my answer a week later, driving Sophie home.

"Mom," Sophie said, "I need to tell you something."

"Yes, honey?"

"I don't know if Aidan would want me to tell you this, but I think it's important."

"What's that?"

"You remember his card on Mother's Day?"

"Yes, I remember." I pictured the penciled card, ripped in two, words scribbled hastily.

"Well, that's not what he wanted to give you. He won a free massage for you at that food carnival we went to. He looked high and low for it in his room. I even helped him. He realized he couldn't come to you empty-handed, so he wrote that card really fast. But what he really wanted to give you was a certificate for a massage. When he won it, he was so excited."

My heart gave way a bit inside. My dear son, whose love language was gifts, must've been heartbroken. I could picture him receiving the gift certificate, cataloging how long it would be until Mother's Day came around. Then I could see him searching for the elusive certificate. How crushed he must've been. I was immediately thankful that we didn't tease him too much about the card.

Aidan's card reminded me of something I learned about relationships from a counselor. Good family relationships are ones where each member assumes positive intent. Assuming positive intent is a relational term that means we don't automatically jump to negative conclusions about the people in our lives. We give them the benefit of the doubt, even when the evidence might point otherwise.

Assuming positive intent folds nicely into 1 Corinthians 13:7 that says, Love "bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things . . ." As parents, we bear our children's sorrows, joys, foibles, victories, and needs. We believe God is big enough to shoulder each child's worries. And we hope. We hope for the best, asking God to give us a mindset of wild and playful grace, that when our children disappoint us, we'll still be standing nearby, open-armed.

Assuming positive intent reveals the health of our relationships with our kids. Hoping all things, we make a choice not to jump to conclusions prematurely. We'll believe our children are capable of beauty. We'll ask questions to clarify when we're confused by our children's behavior. We'll hope for the best.

Because, the truth is, our kids often astound us with their love, whether it be an over-the-top massage gift certificate or a humbly made card.

Workplace Gifts and Ice Cream Flavors

Emilie Griffin — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 06:00:00 GMT

When I first began to practice the life of prayer in a very intentional way, I was working in a major advertising agency in New York City. You probably wouldn't have thought about it as a spiritual place, but it took up a large segment of my life. And a very creative life it was too. I loved my job in spite of the anxieties I often felt. I had to meet deadlines, satisfy expectations, and convince other people to choose the best of several campaigns I was proposing.

At that time, I was eager for a closer relationship to God. I did small things—and large things—to come closer to the life of grace. I prayed. I looked for times of solitude and silence. I went to church often. Sometimes I made retreats. Daily I read favorite Bible passages, especially from the Psalms and the Gospels.

At one point, I came across the notion of spiritual gifts. Some are described in Galatians 5:22: "the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control." Later in the same passage I read, "let us be guided by the Spirit." Earlier in the Scriptures, in Isaiah 11, I found a description of the spirit of the Lord: "the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord." I was struck by these two lists, which seemed like descriptions of the transformed person. I wrote them down on a three-by-five card and kept it with me as a reminder. These were the qualities I wanted to have. My husband referred to them as my Baskin-Robbins ice cream flavors.

I loved his light remark. But I understand that these qualities can't be ordered by the scoop. They really are gifts. We don't acquire them. They come to us by grace.

Even so, I think we can sometimes spot these gifts in the workplace. Possibly it isn't so easy to see them in ourselves, as in the fellow workers or managers that we admire. One of the most inspiring figures in my own work-life was my mother, Helen Russell Dietrich. She founded and ran three different companies—relatively small ones—and she always envisioned her work in terms of the benefit to others and not to herself. One of the things I noticed about her was her humanity in dealing with members of her staff. When an older woman applied for a job, my mother would sometimes create a job that suited her particular talents. And this was the way she behaved with staffing over time. She noticed another person's talents and tried to make space for them. I had a chance to observe her warm personal style at close range. I worked as a consultant to her firms through much of my adult life, and directly under her, as Executive Vice President, for two years. I knew many of her coworkers and members of her staff. I knew how much they admired her and how she influenced them in positive ways.

My mother rarely talked about her faith. She would probably never have made a Baskin-Robbins list of spiritual gifts. Yet the warmth of her personality told me something about how she relied on God for everything. She often turned to the Bible in difficult moments or when hard decisions had to be made. I don't think she saw her spiritual gifts as a result of her faithfulness. No. It was the other way around. God gave her generous scoops of his grace. And she expressed her thanks whenever she opened the Bible to a passage she loved.