I am not even going to look at the last post I wrote here, because it will be too disconcerting to see how long it’s been. Words have felt heavy to lift the last few months. My words. Other people’s words.
I’m recognizing that words mean more in times of insecurity. Encouragement hits home deeper, but also hearing words that hurt not just myself but other people feel more violent, more intrusive. This has been a year of words thrown around carelessly, and also, of words calling it out. I’ve heard more encouragement this year than many others, and it’s been needed.
I’ve cried over more books this year. Because I’m more aware of my calling as a writer and an artist, seeing movies about those crafts and reading books that have been well crafted, or have been a commentary on the imporance of them, have made we weep more than any other year. It could also be the lack of sleep and added latent stress, who’s counting? I watched Stranger Than Fiction the other day and it reminded me that the first time I watched this movie and listened to Maggie Gyllenhaal’s character describe how she pivoted from wanting to change the world through being a lawyer to changing it through baking cookies, it changed forever how I viewed vocation. This simple scene had hit me years before, and hit me afresh even deeper after this year’s stress and disappointment. Her words carried more weight and I cried because again I realized that it’s not just the jobs that require the diplomas and niche skill sets and talent and knowledge that will keep the world turning, it is also the ones that keep art, music, food, community, and creation alive that will sustain and save. The bread makers. The postal workers. The town chamber presidents and the council secretaries. The water colourists and the jewellers.
Oil painters can save lives just as surely as surgeons. Giving people hope through a novel or an inspired line of poetry can keep someone alive as much as a butcher. Without music, the people perish. Those first chair oboes are intrinsic to mental health just as much as a psychiatrist. Art supports life and means that the front line health worker finds strength in sitting down with her family at breakfast to a beautiful loaf of bread from the small bakery down the road. Homemade jam breathes life as surely as the gas pump attendant keeping cars running. The scale for weighing the impact of one vocation over another is spiritual, not logical.
The Bible says work because your boss is really God, do it all for the pleasure of pleasing Him, in essence. This verse talks about a specific group of people in the ancient world, but we can apply the heart of it to whatever job we have today, whether it’s changing a diaper or crafting a contract in a boardroom or creating a flyer for a small business.
“Bondservants, obey in everything those who are your earthly masters, not by way of eye-service, as people-pleasers, but with sincerity of heart, fearing the Lord. Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ.”
Colossians 3:22-24 ESV
I’m trying to remember to weigh my words before sending them out into the world, and also remember that the work I do has weight just like any other contribution, even if it’s just adding beauty to the world directly around me. It is all giving life. I hope these words weigh gently, like a pebble in your hand to remind you of something, rather than a boulder you have to carry. That what you do has worth and God weighs it differently than the world does. That what you say has weight, and finding the right words are more important now than ever. Take heart, and keep putting one foot in front of the other.