Don’t Find Joy In What You Do But How You Do It

These days, there’s a lot of talk about loving what you do. I think that’s important—but I don’t think it’s nearly as important as finding joy in how you do it.

I learned this from my grandma.

Growing up, I attended church every Sunday with my family.

Every week, it was the same story. The sermon would begin. I would complain about needing the bathroom. I’d quietly leave the sanctuary and I’d check the nursery, hoping my grandma was there.

I would always find her, peacefully sitting in a wooden rocker, holding a sleeping baby, watching the pastor on a small black-and-white television.

Photo Credit: yomo_13 , Creative Commons

As I got older and I began to understand what was happening in the sanctuary, I grew to appreciate what was happening there. I found life and truth in the words of the Bible and I began to spend more time with my grandpa than my grandma on Sunday morning.

He was, after all, the preacher on the stage.

But I’ll never forget the image of my grandma, rocking that baby, watching her husband on the small black and white television in the nursery. His sermons were being broadcast to every state in the country and over 100 countries.

Yet she just watched them faithfully, from right there.

I’ve never met another woman so gifted at comforting and quieting a crying child—or relieving the nerves of an anxious new mother.

My grandma died on Christmas Eve, 2007.

Leading the Prayer Service was one of the greatest honors of my ministry life. In preparation for it, I began to recall vividly those Sunday mornings sitting in that quiet nursery with my grandma, while the world watched my grandfather.

I can see now how she exhibited unparalleled grace, love, humility, contentment, and joy in those moments. Because she faithfully served the church in her quiet role, my grandfather was able to faithfully fulfill his.

There is an important story in the Bible about Jesus at a fancy dinner party where each of the guests begin elbowing their way to the place of honor at the table. It was the story I read at my grandmother’s service.

Jesus’s response to the commotion went something like this:

“When someone invites you to dinner, don’t take the place of honor. Somebody more important than you might have been invited by the host. Then he’ll come and call out in front of everybody, ‘You’re in the wrong place. The place of honor belongs to this man.’ Instead, go and sit at the last place. Then when the host comes he may very well say, ‘Friend, come up to the front.’

He concludes:

“If you are content to be simply yourself, you will become more than yourself.” Storyline Blog