Thursday, September 24, 2015

The Old Red Bricks


      My wife and I were sitting at a picnic table eating “store-bought” burgers. We were on our way home from a quick trip to a nearby city, and made a “pit stop” at this slightly forlorn county park. We were hungry, and this was a convenient place to take a lunch break.

     We were sitting there, minding our own business, when I happened to look down, and noticed the underpinning of the bench we were sitting on. While the legs of other nearby benches were concrete, ours were constructed of ancient red brick; And I began to reflect…

     Where had these worn old bricks been before they found their way to this remote park? Had they served in other roles? I guessed they had. For in spite of this most recent, humble place, these bricks had a character of their own.

     Perhaps in a former life, they’d held up a bridge. Maybe they’d been among thousands of others in a stately old Southern mansion. Or perchance, they had been salvaged from a newly-paved city street.

     I found myself smiling as I sat on that particular bench. It was a joy to think that the value of these old bricks remained intact. They found themselves in a place where people congregate to relax, to socialize, to play, to share a few morsels of food. These red bricks were still useful to society.
 
     I think we have a lot to learn from these old and crumbling building blocks of our society. For we pass through our own seasons of life. We find ourselves working different jobs, fulfilling various roles, involved in a changing (and perhaps diminishing) ministry.
 
     Solomon tells us "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heavens." (Eccl. 3:1)

     I, for one, can verify the validity of this scripture. I’ve worked multiplied jobs in my lifetime, and the fourth and fifth decades of my life have found, and find me working as a counselor in a small church agency. Time and space would fail me to describe the various positions I’ve filled in my 55 years of life; teacher, janitor, shoe salesman, nurseryman, minister, soldier, clerk. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg!

     I’ve lived in six states and in twenty homes. No one ever accused me of “letting moss grow under my feet,” (but at the time no one ever accused me of being mature either).

      I’ve made some poor decisions, and then again, some very good ones. I’ve served and been served. My role, work and ministry have been obvious at times, and far from it at other times.

     So like those old red, crumbling bricks. Our lives ought not be judged by the prominence of our positions, but by the fruit and impact of our labor. Some will be known, and acclaimed by thousands. Others will labor in the shadows, and their names will remain obscure or unknown. Some will find their ministries "in decline" especially in their declining days. Some will experience regret, and mourn "the good old days." But we move through those seasons of life. They are both guaranteed and irrevocable.

     I find myself in the most rewarding and impactful position I’ve ever filled in life. Ten years in the counseling ministry has seen thousands impacted for good and for God. Scores have been touched with the advent of our  recovery ministry. Dozens have been added to our local church. And I have a  healthy pride about these things.

     But just as surely as the sun will come up in the morning, my role and ministry will change again. I may be half way through this particular season of my life. Perhaps a decade of productive ministry remains to me, perhaps not.

     And not to be caught unawares or undone, I’m grooming someone to take my place. It’s odd to consider, but as one season of my life passes, a younger servant steps up to fill the void. Where my dream concludes, the dream of another begins, or continues. For I recognize that this ministry is not dependent on me, but on God. So like those old clay bricks. Though seasons come and go, though role and ministry change; His plans for me are good, His place for me is sure. And I realize that my life is not dependent on a particular role, but on the Hand that leads me…

... through the seasons of my life.

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "Unconventional Devotions" Copyright 2005

   

 

 

 

 

 

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