Been out of work for a few weeks now, so this has me thinking about work a lot. Not fretting, no worries, just thinking. I used to think that I would grow old beside a man who would do the toil of the ground stuff, while I bared the brunt of children, because my understanding of life was summed up in the curse part of Genesis: this isn't how we're meant to be, but somebody messed up and so live! abide! exist! in this curse. It hasn't been until recently that I've been realizing that people who live overcompensating for the sins of their forefathers aren't living lives indicative of the Imago Dei.
Last week I stopped in Kentucky for a few days with a friend from college and his houseful of Acts-like roommates. One handed me a book: Edible Forest Gardens. I paged through it, interested in the act, but more interested in the concept of what it means to work the way God designed us to work. To tend, instead of invent; to enjoy nature's order, instead of organizing it; to appreciate systems, like the ecosystem, but to operate within its design, instead of exploiting its strengths.
And I remember God's mandate to man: tend the earth, subdue it, fill it, eat of it. This before that horrid tree and serpent escapade that ruined us from ever having it so good again.
But, I'm wondering, what if we just started living as we were intended to live, to tend instead of overcompensating, to walk with God instead of competing with our coworkers, to have enough instead of indulging in more--what if? What things would we understand about grace and God and goodness and faith and trust? What things would we shed because they lead to dead works or dead life?
What if we're meant to work only to give us a tangible picture of what our hearts are so prone to doing? After that, we're meant to rest (even in our work) to give us a tangible picture of what God is so patiently asking us to learn?