What looks like bad work to you? It can be a very personal thing – I was surprised when I told people about leading Redeem the Commute, and they said, “I’m glad someone is doing it, but especially glad it’s not me.”
I watched a TV show lately about a tow truck driver – it showed him going about his work in the middle of the night, doing a job many wouldn’t want. But he said he’d tried multiple jobs, hated them all – and then found the towing business and it just fit. He’d found his passion for work, even though other people would hate it working those late nights, alone, at risk and dealing with mechanical work.
There are definitely bad jobs out there – some are really awful, which became apparent with media coverage, for example, of the textile industry in Bangladesh.
Some jobs aren’t terrible themselves, they are just a bad fit.
And there are some good jobs that we see in the wrong light – something about us means they are less than they should be. We might think they’ll be much more than they are, or we might think too highly of ourselves to do certain kinds of work, even though they are good.
Question: What’s the worst job you ever had? What made it so bad? Was it bad for everyone, or just you?
Acknowledgements: Tim Keller, Every Good Endeavour and Work & Rest
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In our series on Christmas as the Night that Changed Everything, this week we’re looking at how it’s the night that changed the poor. The poor have a priveleged place in the story of Jesus' birth at Christmas. Here is where that really shows:
4 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. 5 He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, 7 and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them. (Luke 2:4-7)
When a politician visits a troubled area, it’s important. I recall after the 1998 ice storm in Eastern Ontario, the Prime Minister visited Wolfe Island, where I used to volunteer as a paramedic. Years later, people would still talk about how the Prime Minister had come, and how. They knew in that moment that he’d seen what they were dealing with, through his own eyes.
Here in the Christmas story we see God doing that. He has come to visit our broken and hurting world, and has let the entire population know that he is here with us – from rich to poor, young to old. It’s so apparent in that he comes to earth not like pampered royalty, but as a homeless baby.
His parents are on their way to Bethlehem for the census. They must travel, even though Mary is pregnant and close to birth. They arrive, apparently without plans for accomodations (or their plans are cancelled when an unmarried pregnant woman arrives) and find no room in any inns. If they had money, you can imagine they might buy their way out of trouble, but it doesn’t happen, and they end up in a stable. The baby is born, wrapped in cloths, a poor, defenseless baby whose parents are doing the best they can, which isn’t much. The word translated as stable may be a building dedicated to animals like we think, or it’s possible it represented a one room house with both animals and people, but either way it was modest.
This is not a story of privelege and power. Why would God – who we would expect to come in majesty and splendour – arrive in this way?
Question: What might God be trying to tell us in coming to earth in this way?
Reminder: We are reading the Bible in sync as one community - so check out today's reading here.
