We have arrived in Bolivia to begin our next round of ministry, but I am still processing and chewing on the lessons I learned from our time in Ecuador with Isaiah 61 International.
My team and I spent the month with a family in the rural mountains outside of the city of Sangolqui. We spent our time pouring into the community through prayer meetings, teaching English, Christmas skits, daycare help, and visiting with people. We lived with the Gudinos, the gentle and kind-hearted family that founded the organization.
Our time spent with the Gudinos taught us so much about family, rest, and commitment to God’s purpose. But there is one lesson, so seemingly simple and almost cliche, that I will never forget: It is not about the work you do, but how you do it.
As we heard their stories about life on the mission field and their time spent on furlow in the United States, complete gratitude was the constant tone with which they spoke. Our host dad, Byron, told us of all the different jobs he held while in the states. He spoke about his time as a valet and a dishwasher, jobs people consider low and menial, with such excitement and humble gratitude.
“I loved that job, I always had such a great time.”
“That was a great job, I was able to support my family.”
“America is a wonderful place with so many opportunities.”
He sang the praises of the work he did with such genuine affection. I couldn’t help but feel entranced and moved by all of his stories.
Not only was he incredible grateful for his places of work, but he poured his best effort into every facet of each job. He was the only valet allowed near the CEOs car. He worked hard, he worked well, he worked with integrity. He was honest about his mistakes and committed in his effort to correct them. And from that integrity he recieved grace in the face of the few mistakes he made.
It reminds me of St. Therese when she said, “If you feel too lazy to pick up a bit of thread, and yet do so for love of Jesus, you aquire more merit for a much nobler action done in a moment of fervour.”
It is not the size of the act itself but the love behind it.
So as I walk through the rest of this race, and the rest of this life, grumbling that “I’m not doing enough” or “I’m not making an impact” or wrestling with my present task as “menial”, I will remember my dear friends in Ecuador and my new Little Saint friend.
I will remember that all work, even the most seemingly insignificant, is great when done with love.
