JR. Forasteros - March 9, 2014
The God of Work
We all know that hard work is a virtue. But we easily fall into the trap of turning work into a god, believing that we always need just a little bit more before we'll be content. We sacrifice our time, our energy and ultimately our families and lives to this god whose demands on us never end. Let's return to the Creator God who tells us we should do all our work in six days and spend the seventh, the Sabbath day, enjoying the life we're building. Let's remember that our worth and security come not from what we produce but from the God who created, calls and loves us.
From Series: "American Gods"
When you think of idol, you think of a little statue. But idols can be anything that distracts or distances us from God. During Lent, we're going to look at some of the most popular idols in our culture. We'll see what they are, and how they pull us away from God. We'll also discover the better way God calls us to. Join us as we discover the identities of these American gods, and turn from them to follow the one and only true God.
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In the years after Hurricane Katrina devastated the city of New Orleans, I went to the city to do relief work several times. It was during those trips I learned that what victims of disasters want most isn’t necessarily the relief work. Every trip went more-or-less the same:
A big group of us would show up and get to work. Maybe we were gutting a home so it could be cleansed of mold and rebuilt. Maybe we were cleaning up vacant lots to beautify a city block for the other residents. Mostly we were gutting homes – tearing out sheetrock and ripping up flooring. It was brutal, exhausting work, particularly in the New Orleans summers.
The residents would always be nearby, helping if they could or in their FEMA trailers making lemonade for us workers.
And inevitably, over the three or four days we were there, each of us would end up just sitting and talking with that resident. Despite the fact that we were on a schedule. Even though we were working hard to get their home finished.
What they needed most wasn’t a new home (though, obviously, that was important).
What they needed most wasn’t our strong backs and hard work. What they needed most, every time, was human interaction. They needed to tell their story, to be seen and heard, to know they’re not alone in their grief.
Again and again, what gave them hope was not the pounding hammers and loaded wheelbarrows, but a person sitting with them, being present with them.
What does it means to be WITH someone in times of grief? The final movement of Lament is hope, an anticipation that grief is not the final word.
