Working on My Behalf
I built a fence at my home this weekend. And, by "I" I mean that a dear friend built the fence, planned the whole project and actually knew what he was doing. I carried boards, set posts and wielded the nailing gun like a Colt 45 (that one time he let me hold it). The fence was built in his mind before I picked up the first board. He had the full project completed in his imagination before we stepped foot onto the lawn. I joined the work.
I don't have the mind for architecture and building; my mind likes abstract ideas. I simply joined in on the project. Now, with the fence nearly complete, I see what he saw. I couldn't fully see how all the pieces fit together in the beginning. I had to trust that all of the numbers that he randomly barked at me were somehow part of the process, leading toward something sturdy and beautiful.
And, somewhere around the 500th picket, I had the sense that this friend was doing all of this out of love for me, expecting nothing in return. That he was working on my behalf, and I was simply joining his work.
And, I felt the love of a good God whose work I get to join.