JD Gerard

Our last work day in Ecuador, we poured somewhere in the vicinity of 35 to 40 yards of concrete by hand. I thought it would be a tough day, and it was.  It was also a day where I began to re- evaluate what I think work is and what role it plays in my life. 

Talk to anyone about the concrete pour and they will tell you about the Ecuadorian concrete crew.  They ran with 70 to 80 lbs boxes of sand and gravel from 12 to 6 pm. Over and over again. We helped as much as we could, and where we could, and left at the end of the day exhausted.  They went to work again the next morning and we were well on our way back to our lives.

I came home and went back to work too, but my thoughts have often returned to that concrete crew running themselves to death in the alley next to the church we worked at.  

At first I thought it was just a hopeless picture of working conditions in a poor country but then I realized that it is also a hopeless picture of many people in America. I know that there are many people who are dealing with legitimate circumstances that result in too much overtime,  and too little time at home, but for all those who find these conditions forced on them, there are more than a few who take it upon themselves voluntarily.   

  After that it began to dawn on me that it was also a hopeless picture of my own life some days.  Waking up early, grabbing a cup of coffee, skipping my Bible reading, working through lunch, coming home late for dinner only to go back to work mentally right after dinner is over. I don't feel as tired so I keep working well passed what I should.  The allure of a big paycheck at the end of the week also helps to sweeten the deal.  We can easily make allowances for working too much, if we get paid well at the end for it.  Now I know that there are people struggling to make it here in our country.  I am not talking about doing what one needs to do to feed and shelter ones family-that is a command from God, but I do know that in my own life, I have worked longer hours than I needed to, or traveled to jobs that I didn't have to do. The fear of not having enough drives me, even though we have always had enough to pay our bills, and God has always been faithful at just the right time.   

I have a friend who once said to me he likes to work so that he can buy food, pay the bills, and spend time with his family. The appropriateness of that goal is convicting. If that was really my goal at work I would probably work harder, faster, and leave earlier.  Work is a means to an end, that end being a family taken care of, food on the table, and a roof overhead

God has given me both responsibilities--family: my fulfillment, and work: my task.  The first has existed from the time Adam woke from his sleep to find Eve, sharing the garden with him. The second in its present form, was an addition, a result of the fall. I think sometime I am tempted to reverse the two.  Work becomes my fulfillment, while too often my family becomes my task. 

While we ran up and down that alley caring carrying endless loads of rock and sand, I found my self face to face with work as a task. I could take pleasure in the fact that it was being done well, but I could not kid myself into thinking that I was enjoying myself while carrying those loads.  I will never remember this trip without being forced to look at the way in which I work and ask myself am I really honoring God with what I am doing.  Am I completing this task so that I can be faithful to my family, or has this task taken their place in my heart?  I think it is a question worth asking. 

JD Gerard