The sweat of summer

My first real job, not the ones I had to do at home but the kind that you choose to do and get paid real money, was mowing a lawn. Not just any lawn, but the church lawn. It was vital that this lawn was manicured to perfection. Not because it was on public display -- the lawn was actually behind the church and only visible to those who went out back to see it.

This lawn served a vital function. Before and after Sunday and Wednesday night church, this lawn served as the baseball diamond. Groups of children would flock to the back for a few quick innings until we were dragged into class or forced to go home by our parents who were tired of waiting for us. I mowed a couple of other lawns that summer but never one as important as the church lawn.

Each week the rusty and wobbling push mower and I would wander down the block to the church to manicure this yard. Each week drew me closer and closer to the prize that motivated me: a bike I had laid my eyes on during the early days of spring. Every week I would mow, reaping the rewards of my labor and putting the money away. By the end of the summer I had managed to save everything I needed for my coveted prize.

Finally the day came to travel to the store and pick out my bike. Placing those crisp bills on the counter was a tremendous victory. To the salesclerk it was just another customer, another sale, another way to absent-mindedly pass the time before he went home. To me it was pride of what I had done with my hands.

Years later I came across this proverb that reminded of that summer: "Wise words bring many benefits, and hard work brings rewards." (12:14, NLT)

The Lord has created us for work. He has given each of us different passions, desires and levels of creativity in which to pursue those dreams. One of the simplest of blessings he gives is the irreplaceable reward of applying your hands to craft something from nothing. To take an idea, mix it with motivation and chase it until it submits.

As for the bike: A little banged up and wearing some rust, it met its fate at a yard sale while the sweat of the summer lingered on.

Rob Hurtgen is a husband, father and serves as the associate pastor at the First Baptist Church in Jackson.