The Temps
Guess who finally got a job? This girl! Yay!!!!
Okay, maybe a little overkill on the exclamation points, but I am very excited to be working after applying to different places for a month and a half.
So, what is this job, you ask? Actually, you're probably not asking, but I'm going to flatter myself by pretending that do you care and tell you anyways.
My official title is "banquet waitstaff", and I serve parties and events at places like the Marriott, Fort Gordon, and other fancy venues.
Translation: we're the peons that serve the rich people. Actually, to be accurate, I am the peon that serves the peons that serve the rich people. I'm one of "the temps"(temporary). Pretty low on the totem pole...
But to be honest, I really love the job. Weaving through crowds of nicely dressed people while balancing wine glasses and tottering piles of plates can be tiring, but also rewarding, though not for the germaphobe or the faint of forearm (I'm a big advocate of the "less-heavy-dishware" movement). Plus, just being out in the world and meeting different people, although they may cuss every third word or complain about having to pick up a broken dish, is a new and exciting experience. But I'd have to say that one of the greatest parts of the job so far has been realizing just how desperately people need Jesus.
When I was driving home from work my first night, I thought about the negative, jaded, and resigned attitudes of the people I had met. Many appeared discontent with their lives, but past experiences or old habits seemed to have sucked away any hope of trying to achieve something better. They were stuck and had no will power to free themselves. I pondered just how heartbroken God must be that countless people whom he created and whom he loves passionately are drifting through life, with no purpose or destination. Hopeless.
And of course, you're probably thinking that what hit my heart next was how great and imperative my responsibility is to blind those people with the light of Jesus. That if I don't immediately and forcefully start sharing the Gospel, then these people will go to Hell. But that's not what I thought.
While I do have a responsibility to share the Gospel, the heartbreak of Jesus was all that lodged unshakably in my mind. I couldn't get away from it.
I realized that in any other relationship, if the person I loved more than anything else in the world was heartbroken over something, be it over a death, a tragedy, anything, I would feel that heartbreak too. And I'd want to do whatever it took to minister to that person's heart. Not out of obligation, but because I would hate for that person to endure so much pain. So why don't I view God that way?
I make sharing the Gospel an obligation, something I have to do, or else I'm not a real Christian. It's as bad as those Facebook pictures that brazenly demand, "If you don't share this on your timeline in 60 seconds, then you don't love Jesus."
It's as though I mistakenly believe that when I get to Heaven, God's going to rank my effectiveness at sharing Jesus' story on a one to ten scale, while caring less about how the relationship between the two of us fared. So I pressure myself into always looking to share the Gospel and beat myself into the ground if I don't get a high enough score in the "win-people-to-Jesus" game.
If that's what Christianity is, just a soul-saving competition, then I want out. That's not a relationship. At least not one I'm interested in.
I want what Mary had, as in the Mary who sat at Jesus feet. I want to minister to the heart of God, to help his heartache by helping those he loves, not because I'm called to, but because I want to. Because I love Christ. Sharing the Gospel shouldn't be the main goal of a Christian, it should be a side effect of getting to know Jesus more.
So while being a temp may get hard and I'm sure I'll have days that I'm sick of being around people, I hope I can keep that perspective. That I'm not loving others because I have to or because they need something from me; I'm loving them because I love Jesus. Maybe that's what it means to "do everything for the Lord, and not for men."
Okay, maybe a little overkill on the exclamation points, but I am very excited to be working after applying to different places for a month and a half.
So, what is this job, you ask? Actually, you're probably not asking, but I'm going to flatter myself by pretending that do you care and tell you anyways.
My official title is "banquet waitstaff", and I serve parties and events at places like the Marriott, Fort Gordon, and other fancy venues.
Translation: we're the peons that serve the rich people. Actually, to be accurate, I am the peon that serves the peons that serve the rich people. I'm one of "the temps"(temporary). Pretty low on the totem pole...
But to be honest, I really love the job. Weaving through crowds of nicely dressed people while balancing wine glasses and tottering piles of plates can be tiring, but also rewarding, though not for the germaphobe or the faint of forearm (I'm a big advocate of the "less-heavy-dishware" movement). Plus, just being out in the world and meeting different people, although they may cuss every third word or complain about having to pick up a broken dish, is a new and exciting experience. But I'd have to say that one of the greatest parts of the job so far has been realizing just how desperately people need Jesus.
When I was driving home from work my first night, I thought about the negative, jaded, and resigned attitudes of the people I had met. Many appeared discontent with their lives, but past experiences or old habits seemed to have sucked away any hope of trying to achieve something better. They were stuck and had no will power to free themselves. I pondered just how heartbroken God must be that countless people whom he created and whom he loves passionately are drifting through life, with no purpose or destination. Hopeless.
And of course, you're probably thinking that what hit my heart next was how great and imperative my responsibility is to blind those people with the light of Jesus. That if I don't immediately and forcefully start sharing the Gospel, then these people will go to Hell. But that's not what I thought.
While I do have a responsibility to share the Gospel, the heartbreak of Jesus was all that lodged unshakably in my mind. I couldn't get away from it.
I realized that in any other relationship, if the person I loved more than anything else in the world was heartbroken over something, be it over a death, a tragedy, anything, I would feel that heartbreak too. And I'd want to do whatever it took to minister to that person's heart. Not out of obligation, but because I would hate for that person to endure so much pain. So why don't I view God that way?
I make sharing the Gospel an obligation, something I have to do, or else I'm not a real Christian. It's as bad as those Facebook pictures that brazenly demand, "If you don't share this on your timeline in 60 seconds, then you don't love Jesus."
It's as though I mistakenly believe that when I get to Heaven, God's going to rank my effectiveness at sharing Jesus' story on a one to ten scale, while caring less about how the relationship between the two of us fared. So I pressure myself into always looking to share the Gospel and beat myself into the ground if I don't get a high enough score in the "win-people-to-Jesus" game.
If that's what Christianity is, just a soul-saving competition, then I want out. That's not a relationship. At least not one I'm interested in.
I want what Mary had, as in the Mary who sat at Jesus feet. I want to minister to the heart of God, to help his heartache by helping those he loves, not because I'm called to, but because I want to. Because I love Christ. Sharing the Gospel shouldn't be the main goal of a Christian, it should be a side effect of getting to know Jesus more.
So while being a temp may get hard and I'm sure I'll have days that I'm sick of being around people, I hope I can keep that perspective. That I'm not loving others because I have to or because they need something from me; I'm loving them because I love Jesus. Maybe that's what it means to "do everything for the Lord, and not for men."
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