It is quiet outside as I write. I don't notice that my neighbor is watering his little patch of Eden until he coughs a few times. Everything is still and deceptively peaceful.
Today is Saturday morning. For many, it is a day off. Today might be a day where the only work that gets done is is hobby work: work that is done for fun. My neighbor isn't gardening because his family needs the food, but because he likes being outside and getting his hand's dirty. (His "I love sushi" shirt gives me a hint that they eat more than what they grow).
It is hard to believe from the view I have on a calm morning that there is something profoundly wrong with our work. The ease of Eden and full delight of work has given way to toil and the feeling of futility. My neighbor's grunts and groans tell me that the amount of work he has put in to his garden is frustratingly more than what he is getting out of it.
"It is what it is" is often our attitude with work. It is a kind of defense mechanism so that we can somehow emotionally survive the dissatisfaction. We have settled in to working for the weekend...looking for escapes from the feelings of failure....accepting the necessary sacrifice of work until we retire or expire. We reflect that looking forward to work is a luxury that some others may get to enjoy, but not many of us.
[Even as I type this I am struggling to find the right words, spelling those words wrong (Thank you red squiggly line for being under the word) and being concerned about whether this communicates at all or is too long or if anyone would read it and be helped.]
When someone asks us about our work we have to quickly decide if we want to share the real story of how it feels like we are frustratingly running though waist deep water to accomplish what we need to accomplish while feeling like an imposter who doesn't deserve our paycheck or position or to say everything is fine.
Each of us has a deep, heart questions about our work. Questions that linger as we toil though the ups and downs of our occupations: is this what work was meant to be? Am I being punished for something I don't know about? Am I the only one who feels this way? Why doesn't my garden just do what I planned it to do?
(That last one might just be for my gardening neighbor)
We don’t live in the Garden of Eden any more, but we were made for it. Because we live outside our home, we feel like everything is off…including our work. We till the soil and plant what we think will be satisfaction, but reap mostly failure, insecurity, toil, annoyance, and futility. We still want to work a nourishing garden, but have seemingly lost our directions to find that garden
But what if this was all on purpose…something God designed? Even in the brokenness of our work and our world there is a reason for our emptiness and ineffectiveness? What if it is because we are working to find our satisfaction in work rather than in Jesus himself. What is the toil is a reminder to have a heart of repentance that leads to something better than we would have desired in the first place?
The fact that our work is no longer “good” like we experienced in Eden is a gift to draw us into seeking something more than Eden…the One whose satisfying beauty was only seen as a reflection in Eden, but makes himself available to be fully known in the person of Jesus.