What Do You Think You’re Doing?

-from Three Questions by Jim Wood

When I was a child, I heard a story. I wish I had a copy of it, because I’m sure it was written in much more poetic fashion than I can recall it. Remember, I heard it as a child.

Two men were working on a construction site. Someone passing by asked the two men, “What are you doing?”

One of the men replied with agitation, “I’m digging a ditch.”

The other man at the exact same construction site, digging the same ditch, responded, “I’m helping to build a cathedral.”

Both answers were true, but one fellow could only see the ditch. That’s what he focused on. The other fellow understood that what he was doing down there in the dirt had much bigger implications. He wasn’t just digging a ditch. He was contributing to the construction of a magnificent edifice.

What do you think you’re doing?

This question of perspective impacts every area of our lives.

I had the privilege of growing up in the town of Montreat, North Carolina. When I lived there, we had one hundred-fifty year-round residents. I moved there at age twelve into my ninety-year-old grandmother’s home. My dad was in a tough church situation as pastor, so he decided to opt for mental health and early retirement.

My grandmother and aunt turned their basement into living quarters for my father, mother and me. My aunt and mother worked, and my dad took care of his mother and the home.

Because Montreat was such a small town, we had the opportunity to get to know some wonderful neighbors quite well, among them Dr. and Mrs. Billy Graham. Again, we knew them not because we were special people but because there were one hundred-fifty year-round residents, and the Grahams were good neighbors. They lived right up the road from us.

Many folks from Ridgecrest, the Baptist conference center, used to stop by our house asking for directions to the Grahams. Very often, I would ask these folks, usually a preacher and spouse, sometimes a couple of preachers riding in the front seat and their spouses in the backseat, “Do you have an invitation to the Graham home?”

Simultaneously, one would say yes and the other would say no. They would look at each other, realizing that they should have gotten their story straight. I was glad there was one person in the car telling the truth. In any case, I would give the directions but explain to them, “If you go on up the street you’ll come to the gate, and you can’t go past that point.”

On a number of occasions, I went inside the gate all the way up to the house and actually spent time there. Ruth had built a beautiful home out of antique logs she had harvested from old tobacco barns and other old buildings around the countryside. She had them brought to Montreat and constructed into a modest but very beautiful home. She raised her five children in this home, while Dr. Graham was continually on the road. Ruth filled the home with antiques and love.

Among the antiques was an old sign from an Anglican church that Ruth had picked up somewhere. As I recall, the sign said, “Divine service rendered here three times daily.” She put that sign right over the kitchen sink. Ruth wanted to remind herself that when she was doing the dishes, she wasn’t just doing the dishes. She was doing the dishes, caring for her family, as an act of worship. Serving others is divine worship, divine service.

Paul says in Romans 12:1:

Therefore, brothers and sisters, in view of the mercies of God, I urge you to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God; this is your true worship.

JB Philips paraphrases this passage accurately: “This is intelligent worship.” This is right-minded. We worship God intelligently by yielding everything to him. God calls us to offer our bodies as living sacrifices.