A Recovering Workaholic's Labor Day

My dad was something of a workaholic for most of my growing up, but I don’t have any bitter memories or hard feelings. In fact, I’m very proud of the work he did and the work ethic in me he instilled.

Even when dad wasn’t ‘at work,’ he was usually working—finishing the basements of the houses we lived in, remodeling the bedrooms, insulating the attics, repairing the lawnmowers, etc. When we went on family vacations, dad had the routes, campgrounds, and interesting tourist stops mapped out in advance so we got everywhere efficiently—and with some money to spare for a snack at the end.

Even when my mom went back to work, and delegated some of the ‘housework’ to him for the first time, he embraced the assignment with relish and became a cleaning machine in the kitchen. And something of a professional launderer, too.

So this past Monday—Labor Day on the calendar—was a fun one to spend with my favorite workaholic (and father) while he & mom were stopping over on a trip to Chicago. Now that he’s older, my dad has grown quite conversational and comfortable with just chilling out—though Laura has pointed out that when we’re chilling together sometimes it’s just because my dad & I are both working on our laptops—but at least everybody’s sitting in the same room, enjoying one another’s company, right?

In the old days, any time together was “project time”—what do you want to build, fix, paint, or plant? But this past weekend was special in that mom & dad were content to sit still—to tell stories and laugh, to play games with our boys & us, or to just sit quietly and read a book. And that felt nice. Like, well, a family.

Now, I don’t usually sleep in too late (my brain starts opening my to-do file around 6am), so this morning as I saw the open door to the guestroom, I was surprised to realize my mom & dad had left before I was even out of bed! (They wanted to get an early start—dad had something planned for the afternoon in Chicago).

I smiled at how hard it is teach an old dog new tricks. And at how grateful I am to have been raised in a litter of hard-working mutts, where family was a mixture of cuddles, chuckles and, crazy as it sounds, an eagerness for chores.

Pay careful attention to your own work, for then you will get the satisfaction of a job well done, and you won’t need to compare yourself to anyone else. Galatians 6:4

Unpacking the Samson Sermon

(Note: I write below about a recent visit with a Kaw Prairier. I don’t typically ‘counsel & tell’— but he gave me permission to tell the story— pd).

The waitress laid down a pair of menus. “Want some coffee, hon?” Knowing I had a long morning of coffee-drinking ahead, I nodded: “Decaf please.” After a full Sunday of preaching in the morning and doing youth ministry at night, I was still pretty beat Monday at 7:15am. But a faithful Kaw Prairier I’d once counseled briefly had been through a lot in the past couple weeks, and he grabbed me after 2nd service Sunday, really eager to meet a second time—soon.

So Monday morning I showed up at the restaurant—half glad to be there, since I’d been praying for him and was hoping for some good news. But I was half reluctant, too, since I didn’t think I’d been all that helpful to him at our first meeting (a gifted counselor I am not, unfortunately.) He sat down at the table, we exchanged some pleasantries, and then he pulled out a stack of handwritten, single-spaced papers. Yikes, I thought, he’s been working on something pretty intensely. Then I noticed something stapled to the top that looked familiar: my sermon-notes insert from the day before! O no, I thought, in a reflexively defensive sort of way (fellow pastors will know the feeling): This guy’s gonna critique yesterday’s sermon— at 7:15 Monday morning!

“I was surprised at what you did with the story of Sampson,” he began, deadly earnest in demeanor. O boy, here it comes. He continued: “At first I couldn’t figure out what you could find in his life to teach about marriage, but as you went along, I got sort of intrigued.” Hmm—that doesn’t sound too negative. I was relieved.

“So after church, I spent some time trying to apply each of your points about Sampson’s immaturity to my life—and I’d like to share with you where I got.” And he handed me a copy of his notes—multiple paragraphs on each expository point I’d made.

Wow. This was definitely not the encounter I had expected when I saw all the papers. And over low-carb breakfasts and multiple coffee refills, the two of us read through his detailed self-confessional. I saw a thoughtful, quiet man taking ownership of his emotions and his marital history, and in so doing, starting to take charge of the next chapter of his life. And selfishly, since I’d worked hard on the Bad Marriages 101 message about Samson & the Timnah Babe (Judges 14-15), I was honored that God had let it impact him so!

Now, I usually pray a lot about the messages I give—asking God to put His thoughts into my words, and to help me to speak to whomever it is that His Spirit wills. But as I sat across the table from someone who had been held captive by God’s word—and my few simple insights about it—I realized how long it had been since I took a whole message and applied it with crushing honesty to my own life, as this brother had done. And I asked God for the humility to hear my own sermons more honestly, more often—and for my brother there to feel deeply the grace of God that follows His Law as surely as the morning does the night.

As we prayed our meeting to a close, I drove to work with a prayer for my friend. And with a prayer of thanks to God. And with a smile—he’d even paid for breakfast.

Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.
Point out anything in me that offends you, and lead me along
the path of everlasting life. Psalm 139:23-24 NLT