in our church, the blue collar guys refer to the white collar guys as “pillow hands”. it’s with a bit of a smile and a laugh, but there is a kernel of truth in the degrading name: our hands are soft. they don’t do much hard work.
i am currently flubbing through typing this post, because of three bandages on my hands (one a manly brown, the other two neon green…’cause i have kids). there were five guys working together this morning pounding in fence posts for a new third baseline fence at the little league park across from our church. two blue collar, three pillow hands. it was all manual labor, and we all took our turns on the fence hammer. 15 posts. my hands hurt.
it was at about post #12 that my blisters burst and fingers bled, but i just had a friend cut off the loose flap of skin with my pocketknife, and kept taking my turn on the fence hammer. i had to adjust my handhold, but i would not let the job beat me, i would not quit becuase of a little discomfort, i would not be shamed by the rebellion of my own hands…it would instead become my glory.
all 15 posts submitted to our work. all 5 guys are now tired and sore.
in life there are times when we can make excuses (even legitimate ones) and bow out of the fight, but it is at precisely those times when we can choose glory over comfort.
we can spend our lives making excuses, and making those around us have to work all the harder; or we can spend our lives making a difference.
my grandad had a saying on his desk. it said, “when the going gets tough, the tough get going”. which will you choose, to step back or to step up?
pick up your cross. it’s time to get some work done.
