Be strong, and do the work

David also said to Solomon his son, "Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Do not be afraid of the size of the task, for the LORD God, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you until all the work for the service of the temple of the LORD is finished. (1st Chronicles 28:20)

One the ways I spend my time is working with recovering alcoholics. It can be a powerfully rewarding and yet maddening task...

I was talking with a guy last night who has been absolutely unable to get more than 7 days sober in a row. He and I were sitting in Wendy's after the meeting last night, and he talked about how useless and hopeless he felt, and how easy it would be to just steal a gun and end his life.

I know the feeling.

I gave him the very best I had - the very best God has given me to share. I talked to him of God's love - how God loves the ones who are otherwise unlovable, how God manages to use scrap material to build mighty tools for his Kingdom. I shared what was shared with me by loving and caring believers and people in recovery.

I don't know if he heard it, though. (I hope he did, obviously.) But that little voice in the back of my head started talking, saying things like, "So why do you even bother? You keep talkin', and people keep getting drunk. And you aren't any richer, or more physically fit, and you have no permanent relationship with anyone and nothing to show. So why even try?"

That's why I keep this passage from 1st Chronicles close by my desk. It was given to us on bookmarks when I started school four years ago, and it's meant the world to me over the years.

The best ministry advice I ever got came from an old coot who told me, "Steve, there are days when the only thing you can do is keep on keepin' on. Not because we're gonna succeed against the darkness, but because we are called to be light that others can seek out. We just never know which kindness we do will end up changing a life forever. So we gotta keep doin' it..."

What he was telling me was simply another way of saying, "Be strong and courageous, and do the work."

Then this morning, an email came to tell the rest of the story. A number of years ago, I met two young men, both aged 24. One was getting out of prison after 7 years for being an accessory to an alcohol-fueled shooting; the other was a just someone that the bottle had washed up, chewed up and spit out. I took a lot of late-night phone calls, drank a lot of late-night coffee, and talked endlessly about God's love and God's claim on their lives. And then I moved away, and never knew the rest of the story.

This morning's email was from the ex-convict - who passed his sixteen-year sobriety anniversary in April. His sober friend will celebrate ten years of continuous sobriety at the end of July, and they will both be speaking to other recovering folks this Friday. Both are fathers, husbands, friends, and loving children of God.

Now, I can't take any credit for that. That's not my doing - that's God's doing. But it reminded me why I keep working with folks, keep giving my life and heart away, even when it seems hopeless.

I'm called to do this, because for a few short weeks or months, I might be the person that someone can hold onto until they can find the inspiration they really need to get the understanding of God's love that can keep them sober. Because someone just might get sober and stay sober, if I can be a light in the darkness for a couple 24-hours. Because I might be one of the paving stones in the road that leads to a ten-year sobriety anniversary for a guy.

I'm not called by God to be successful, or have a 90% conversion rate. I'm called to "be strong and courageous, and do the work." Period.

If I died tomorrow, I would not be a success in the eyes of the world. Financially, materially, in terms of career or family or relationships, I have not done nearly as well as I could have. I am not a vision of physical beauty or desire. All my belongings would fit in a 17-foot rent-a-truck with room to spare - and most of them would mean nothing to anyone but me.

But I'd pray that my epitaph would be in the lives God has allowed me to touch, the love God has given me to share. Love for the outsider, love for the stranger, love for the unlovable. And for so long as I still have breath, dear God, let me "be strong and courageous, and do the work." There's so much of it left to do...

Happy 16th, Jason. Happy 1st decade, Jimmy Lee...

The image is from the Multicultural Mission Resource Center (MMRC) at the Lutheran School of Theology at Philadelphia (LTSP)