Just back from a morning walk.
Yes, everything looks bleak, but even in the dead of winter I still think the farm looks lovely. After all, this house isn't just a house. It's my home. Don't you just love that word? "Home" implies attachment, comfort, security, family, being oneself, and especially -- love. It's cozy, familiar, and tailored to the individual. "Home" is a feeling, not just a physical structure. And if it's a structure you built yourself, it's all the more special.
Becky and I were living in our 1811 farmhouse (Maple Ridge) when we decided to build our new house (Bradford Hall). We wanted it to look like an antebellum home, so it would have 5 wood burning fireplaces and wood flooring (from our own pines) and 14-foot high ceilings and period wallpaper. Much of the work would be done by our son, who in fact drew up the initial plans, produced exact architectural blueprints, and submitted those drawings to the county for approval. (They said yes.) Then he began the long process of construction with his own hands. There's literally not a day that goes by when I do not think to myself, "That design over there -- how in the world did he think that up?"
Whenever I think of Nathan's skilled hands, I think of a man named Bezalel in Exod. 31:1-3. Did you know this is the first person in the entire Bible said to have been "filled with the Ruach Elohim" -- the Spirit of God? It wasn't Adam or Noah or Abraham or Moses or even Jesus. It was a regular guy who was given the ability "to make artistic designs ... to work with gold, silver, and bronze ... to cut and set stones, to work in wood, and to engage in all kinds of crafts." To do this, the text says that Bezalel needed three things:
- Hokhma or "wisdom -- the practical ability to design and create.
- Tebuna or "understanding" --- the mental capacity to grasp instructions and see how things fit together.
- Da'at or "knowledge" -- mastery of the technical skills and material required for the work.
This describes our son to a T. And me? Pretty much the exact opposite. I like to tell people I can't even replace a light bulb without instructions. Was I still handy to have around? Of course. "Hey dad, bring me the skill saw." Or "Dad, would you mind painting the dental molding in the dining room?" Or, "While I'm finishing up here, why don't you grab us some pizza?" On days when we would slaughter and butcher one of our cows, he and his mother handled all the finessed cuts of meat. I was put in charge of the hamburger. You get the pic.
Interesting how God works. What Moses did with his mouth and staff, Bezalel did with his hands and tools. What Dave does in the classroom and study, his son does in barns and fields. But the great thing is that God has chosen both of us to bring his vision into reality. I'm reminded of something I wrote in an essay years ago called Toward a Definition of Church.
"A wide diversity of gifts, callings, and ministries (1 Cor. 12:4-6) requires that each believer discover his or her own gift and help others to discover theirs. Some (like the Twelve in Acts 6:4) are called to the diakonia of the word, while others (like the Seven in Acts 6:1) are called to the diakonia of social ministry. Neither ministry is superior or inferior to the other; both ministries are ways of serving God. (The Greek text gives the sense that the work of serving those in need is on a par with the work of prayer and teaching.)"
Practically speaking, the work of the Seven was done by the hand of God just as the Twelve's work was by done by the same hand.
My friend, whether you realize it or not, you are CREATIVE, and God wants to fill you with his Spirit to create something that will display his glory to others. Every time I look at my "home," I'm reminded of that. Every gift -- be it the gift of writing a book or teaching a class, or the gift of building a house or repairing a tractor -- comes directly from the hand of our gracious God.
Praise his name!
P.S. It's fascinating to me that the apostle Paul, though a brilliant scholar and writer, was also a trained tentmaker, a trade he undoubtedly learned early in life. The profession was in line with his later role as a Pharisee and allowed him to avoid charging others for his ministry. In first century Jewish culture, it was often expected that even highly educated individuals (like Rabbis and Pharisees) would learn a trade. I've never introduced myself as a farmer who teaches Greek. But I suppose I do think of myself as a Greek teacher who farms. When I'm working on the farm, my brain is "offline." That almost always leads to subsequent mental fertility. From the studies I've read (like this one), it's not uncommon for people to have an intellectual brainstorm while mindlessly working with their hands. Scrubbing a dirty water trough? Awsome. Invigorating. Gives me pleasure for days.
And might even lead to a blog post. 😉