About Shrubberies (Or, Why I Don't Blow Off Work)--August 13, 2019

"About Shrubberies (Or, Why I Don't Blow Off Work)"--August 13, 2019

[Jesus said:] "With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it?  It is like a mustard seed, which , when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade." [Mark 4:30-32]

There are plenty of mornings I'd rather stay in bed--all day if possible--rather than get up, get cleaned up, get dressed, and go to work.  Sleep is comfortable that way.

And, yes, there are surely plenty of days when I can see something looming on my calendar--an uncomfortable conversation I'll have to have in a meeting, or a difficult visit, or a tedious task that I wish I could ignore--and I would rather look for an excuse not to go, not to meet, not to do the difficult thing.  Procrastination is comfortable that way, too.

I will also gladly concede that I am lucky enough that my kind of employment doesn't pay me based on the hours I have punched in on a time-clock, so it would be all too easy to convince myself that bailing out on work, or playing hooky from time to time, would have no negative consequences on my paycheck.  That temptation is all too comfortable as well.

But I am learning something from Jesus about shrubberies--like, say, a mustard bush--that is reinforcing for me why I don't blow off work.  See, as Jesus tells it, maybe the mustard plant isn't just putting in its time growing and blossoming in a field somewhere for its own sake--maybe it's there for the sake of giving shelter to birds.  And maybe I'm not just here on earth for my own entertainment or good times, and maybe my job is more than just a way of paying for dinners out and making car payments.  Maybe my reason for showing up in life isn't all about me--maybe I'm here just as much for the sake of others whose lives are made better by what I bring to the world.  And maybe that's what you're here for, too--maybe all of us are mustard bushes whose existence makes a home for birds looking for a nest in the shade.

I've got to be honest with you. For a lot of my life, I only heard this parable as a sort of lesson that "small starts can have big conclusions," since Jesus starts off his object lesson focusing on the small size of a mustard seed.  But the more I think about it, the more I realize the importance of the the end of the scene: Jesus doesn't just say, "And the shrub grows large even though it started small. The End."  After all, bigger isn't necessarily better in life (despite the insistence to the contrary of the Super-Size option at the drive through window).  No, Jesus doesn't just assume that more is always better, or that larger things are inherently more successful than smaller ones.  Rather, Jesus sees the growth of his imaginary mustard bush in the service of a wider purpose: the bush doesn't just grow larger for its own sake, but for the sake of giving shelter to birds.

In a similar way, oncologists will remind us that a glob of cells that just keeps growing larger and larger isn't necessarily a sign of health--it may be a tumor.  The difference between cancer and regular human growth is that my body's cells grow and multiply for the purpose of serving the whole body, while a cancer only grows for its own sake while slowly killing the rest of me.  That's not what impresses Jesus about the mustard plant--he sees that its existence is always about more than itself.  When a mustard plant is doing its "job"--being a mustard plant--it is able to give itself away more fully for other parts of creation, like, say, some vulnerable birds looking for a place to safely lay their eggs.

And that, I am coming to see, is true in our work lives as well.  It is really easy to see our jobs as just a means toward the end of having more money--money which is either necessary for paying our bills and keeping a roof over our head, or money that we treat as "disposable" for fun stuff, rock concerts, weekend getaways, technological toys, or home improvement projects.  But I think that misses something essential about the purpose of our work, whether paid or volunteer, whether entry-level or top-tier manager, whether minimum-wage or six-figure salaries: we show up for the sake of the people whose lives can make a difference in, not simply for our own sake.  Frederick Buechner once famously wrote that "the place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet," which is a way of saying that our labor isn't just about being well-paid or enjoying our jobs, but about doing something that the world around us needs to have done. If your job makes you a lot of money, but you are doing something that doesn't actually improve anybody's life or, metaphorically speaking, create nesting space for vulnerable birds, you're missing the point of life.

And then, for a moment assuming that you can see something meaningful in the work you do, the reason to keep showing up at that job, on the easy days and on the hard ones, too, is not just "because I might get caught or punished or fired if I play hooky," but "because what I do makes a difference in someone else's life."  It's because other people count on us to do what we do--not just bosses or managers or HR reps, but the people we serve in whatever kind of work we do.

So on those days when the voice at the back of my head sounds particular tempting when it says, "Skip out early today..." or "Just don't come in, and do something fun for yourself instead--no one will notice!" I get a new picture in my head, thanks to Jesus.  I picture a big ol' shrubbery, doing what God has called it to do simply by continuing to thrive so that birds can make nests in its branches.  And if even a humble weed of a plant like a mustard bush fulfills a role for the sake of other living things in God's creation, then my presence in the world can be a gift for the sake of others around me.

You matter.  What you do--paid or unpaid, public and prestigious or humble and unseen--matters.  You have the capacity to create a refuge for birds in your branches.  You have the capacity to do what you do with the love of God for people whom God loves--even if you never learn their names and they never know yours.  You have the calling to keep showing up in a culture that is constantly flaking out and letting us down, because there are people who are counting on your gifts, your ability, your presence, and your time to make their world brighter.

On the days when there's not much else persuasive enough to get me out of the insular comfort of staying in bed, that's what gets me to put my feet on the floor in the morning of a new day. That's what keeps me driving in to work rather than sneaking to the movie theater or skipping out early (or for that matter, getting drunk off the clock either, since the people who rely on me need me to be able to function when I show up, too).  The question isn't "Could I get away with it?" or "How much would anybody really notice if I blew off work for today?" but rather, "Who are the birds that might need me to offer my branches for shelter--and does it matter to them if I show up today?"

Yeah--it does.

Go and be the blessing to others today, in whatever capacity given to you, right where God has planted you.

Lord Jesus, give us a deeper awareness of our purpose for the sake of others today, and let us see the beauty and dignity you give to our callings.