working hard?

The guy fired an interesting question at me as he sat down for a coffee.

"Is this you working hard?" he said.

I'd just sat down myself to have a coffee with his Mum. She's slowly getting back on her feet again after surgery to her back. This was her first time along to the halls since then.

It was good to see her. A coffee together seemed right.

Is this you working hard?

When she'd first come in I'd been speaking with one of the ladies who, at least now twice a month, brings a crowd of patients from the local stroke unit along to our halls for a coffee and scone in the morning.

We'd been sorting out the way they wanted the chairs - to allow for some wheelchairs, too. That sort of thing.

And having a chat as well. She used to live nearby. I remembered the family vaguely from the past. It's good, as they say, to talk.

But is this you working hard?

Yes, well, it's hard to say!

Because before coming in and seeing her there in the halls, I'd been over the way in the other set of halls we have, sweeping the floor, sorting things out for the folk who'd been in later on to use the hall.

I'd gone off to do that once we'd had our time of prayer. The 9.40 thing.

Is this you working hard?

And before that I'd been in the main set of halls, tidying that up as well and setting the tables out for the various different activities that were going on today.

Is this you working hard?

And prior to that I'd been making the soups for the day - pumpkin and carrot, and broccoli and courgette. Orange and green, for those who are not real soup purists.

Is this you working hard?

I guess the answer's 'yes' and 'no'.

I don't really see any of what I do as 'work'. I'm not really paid to 'work' as such. I'm enabled (in financial terms) to 'minister'.

To serve. When you dispense with the Latin and put it in good old English.

That's why I'm called a 'minister', I guess. Because above all else I'm simply released to serve.

And that can take a thousand different guises through a day.

From making the soups to shifting the chairs to meeting with others to pray to sweeping the floors to speaking with folk to sitting and having a coffee.

And that's all before 10.15. I've another 12 hours to go before my day is done!

I love what I do. I guess that's why I never really think of it as 'work'.

Jesus came to serve. And I'm at heart his follower.

So my day again was filled with a whole long list of different things.

From telephone calls to e-mails needing written.

From meeting different people to arranging funeral times.

From planning future services to pondering Scripture texts.

From sitting in long lines of queueing traffic as I drove across the town to folk in hospital, to sitting at their bedside and to praying with them there.

From the contact with a lady who's bereaved to a meeting with the Nominating team out at Kirkliston.

Is this you working hard?

And I forget what else there was besides!

Except I remember discussing at some length with the guy who asked the question first of all (I know the guy quite well!) the whole environmental challenge that we face these days.

Is this you working hard?

It's kind of 'yes' and 'no' always.

Work's not the word that I use. I don't think I 'work' at all!

I'm a 'minister'. I serve.

And I revel in it all.