Comparing Work

An illuminated text, which had hung on the walls of the sitting-room ever since she could remember, somehow attracted Ruth Sewell's attention on the particular evening when our story commences. It was strange that it should do so, old, faded, fly-specked, and familiar as it was. For at least ten years of her life it had hung there preaching its sermon, but never exciting a thought or emotion among its young auditors, simply because its message had been so silently delivered. No new thing had happened to it that night. The time-stained card-board was, if any thing, dingier than ever; and the fitful gleams of the wood-fire, as they for a moment illuminated its surface, failed to restore the brilliancy of coloring and gilding which had long ago departed. Nor was there any thing new in the words which the firelight thus brought into momentary prominence:--
To every man his work.
And yet, during that almost instantaneous flash of light, they came to Ruth as a revelation fresh from heaven, instinct with spirit-life and replete with food for thought.

—Margaret E. Winslow, The Sewells

Recently, I read The Sewells by Margaret E. Winslow. It was a delightful story about a motherless family who had to work together to make it through tough times. The phrase "to every man his work" was a saying the Sewells had hanging in their living room. The character in the quote above, Ruth, was troubled because she didn't know what her "work" was—she felt that she should be doing something more important and influential than taking her mother's place in many ways and caring for her brothers and invalid sister. By the end of the novel, she realized that although it wasn't what she had in mind, God had assigned to her that specific work to do with all her strength.

Her sister, Orphah, on the other hand, had the distinct impression that she was not assigned any specific work. Instead, she did whatever she pleased. Her ideal life's "work" was the lack of work. The end of her story was similar to Ruth's. She ended up discovering that she had a purpose to fulfill, which included lots of hard work. Both Orphah and Ruth followed the same principle in the end ("to every man his work"), but their specific roles were very different and certainly not what they had expected.

As I read the book, I realized how I tend to look at others' applications of Biblical principles instead of prayerfully applying Scripture in my own life. Orphah and Ruth each observed each other's work and thought her work would be the same. But it wasn't. Something I've been trying to work on is not assuming my plans for the next few years must exactly match someone else's.

Although God has laid out clear commands for living, it doesn't mean that each believer's effort to fulfill those will work out in the same way. God has allowed for much liberty and diversity within the body of Christ. I need to stop searching for a cookie-cutter mold that will tell me what college to take classes from, where to work, and how to organize my day. It's taken me this long to realize that there is no such mold. Instead, we have Scripture, which is sufficient for determining my life's purpose and direction.