Seeking purpose in what you do

Do you often feel that your work must be clean cut, be performed in a nice environment and exist with the absence of drudgery? When people are young, dependent on their parents and, consequently, must do necessary jobs, their thoughts aren't always on where their direction is going to be in life. Most of the time they are simply doing what they have to do, as most of us did. As we mature, though, our thoughts became more focused on what we'd like to do as an adult. Unless we're gifted with the desire and ability to perform manual labor requiring brawn as well as mental energy, we sometimes look towards something that is glamorous or requiring little psychical output. We may pursue a job that pays well, although we hate getting up every day. The job is prestigious and in an elaborate environment.

Does it matter why we choose what we do? Perhaps we are seeking, a job that, mainly, brings satisfaction and purpose to our lives? Whatever the reason is for picking a career, even if it isn't fulfilling, we can find outside sources where we can feel the satisfaction of contributing and helping in some way.

I began pondering the contribution of work in our happiness a few days ago. As I helped my daughter move into another house. It was a Dejà vu experience. As I stood wrapping paper around glass dishes from her cabinets, and other knickknacks that were scattered around, I thought of my mom. Through the years, every time my family moved, mom was always the dependable person I could call on. She always gladly came over and helped. As I assisted my daughter, the memories came flooding back, crowding out everything else in my head.

We were working by ourselves because, supposedly; "there was just a little left to move." This was according to the previous movers. We could do it with no problem--so we grabbed the van and tackled the job of loading it to the hilt. We worked, and worked and became so-o tired. There was no time to rest and there was nothing on which to sit. We skipped lunch, and then we were too exhausted to eat, later.

My daughter continually repeated, "Mom, I could never have gotten all this stuff moved without your help." Although I ached all over, it was a good ache. It brought immense pleasure to feel that I could lighten her load. I discovered that I could lift more than I ever believed I could, and possessed the ability to help her hang a door.

It felt good to be a part of participating in that manual, down-to-earth, labor. I perform few such jobs, usually. It felt like a new experience, since the years in which I grew up on our family farm. How often have you participated in helping others with projects that are distasteful, because you wanted to show your love? I left with a feeling of gratitude. I was thankful that I could share in such a menial chore. This mediocre job seemed like it was a prize-winning accomplishment. It was more fulfilling than if I had written a best-selling book, or sang at a crowded event. There, I would receive evident gratitude and applause from other people. That would have been my reward. I learned that it isn't what you do but the inner fulfillment of helping someone in with an unattractive and back breaking chore--working as you truly are working for the Lord. I received no applause or honor for what I did, but I received a much larger pay-check--one that will never be spent--the ability and opportunity to help someone with that which is unpleasant and menial work.

Colossians 3:23-24 raises all our labor to that of Kings when it says, "Whatsoever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters." I needed to look no farther to find purpose.