These days, there’s a lot of talk about finding your passion and doing what you love. And I think that’s important. We should take the time to identify the things in life worth pursuing and dedicating ourselves to.
But I don’t think finding joy in what you do is nearly as important as finding joy in how you do it.
This is something I learned from my grandma.
Growing up, my family attended church every Sunday. I remember, when I was young, hanging out primarily with my grandmother. Mostly, this was because she was working in the nursery… and I was bored in the service.
Every week, during the message, I would complain about needing the bathroom. After escaping to the hallway, I’d check the nursery hoping my grandma needed help. I would always find her there, sitting peacefully, usually rocking a baby to sleep. On a small black-and-white television, she would be watching the pastor deliver his sermon.
As I got older and I began to understand what was happening in the sanctuary, I grew to appreciate it. The words encouraged me and challenged me. Slowly, I began to spend fewer and fewer Sundays in the nursery with my grandma. And I began to spend more and more Sundays in the sanctuary with my grandpa.
He was, after all, the preacher on the stage.
But I’ll never forget the image of my grandma, rocking that baby, watching her husband on the small television in the nursery.
His sermons were being broadcast all over the country. Yet she just watched them faithfully, from right there in that small nursery, with a baby in her arms.
I’ve never met another woman so gifted at comforting and quieting a crying child—or relieving the nerves of an anxious mother.
My grandmother died on Christmas Eve, 2007.
Leading her Memorial Service was one of the greatest honors of my life. In preparation for it, I began to recall vividly those Sunday mornings sitting in that quiet nursery with my grandmother.
I can see now how she modeled love, humility, contentment, and joy in those moments. She never did receive recognition for her hard work. But she didn’t seem to mind. Because she faithfully served others in her quiet role, my grandfather was able to fulfill his.
We live in a world that exalts and honors those who clamor for attention. We praise and idolize those people who appear on magazine covers, climb the corporate ladder, or have ever-increasing numbers of Instagram followers. We place on a pedestal those who have acquired great wealth, fame, or power.
And many of us desire to achieve the same.
But there is an important truth for all of us that I shared the evening of my Grandmother’s service. It goes like this:
If you are content to be simply yourself, you will become more than yourself.
We don’t always get to choose our life’s circumstances or the roles we are called to fulfill. Each of us are gifted in different ways and invited to pursue unique callings on our life.
Our greatest pursuit then, is to find humility, love, and contentment in the role we are best designed to fulfill—whether that role results in fame and fortune or not.
We find joy by focusing less on the “what we do” and more on the “how we do it.”
Serving quietly and humbly like my grandmother is no less important in this world than standing on a stage. And in that way, I may have learned just as much about life while sitting in the nursery as I ever learned sitting in the sanctuary.
Tessa Smokes says
That was beautiful, Joshua. Reading this post felt like being in that nursery with your grandmother, watching your grandfather preach and you as you watched her. I could say you grandmother lived an honorable life anyone of us could wish for, because that’s exactly what we were created to do: Serve others selflessly and enjoy it. That’s the same thing Jesus did and encouraged us to do. There’s no greater joy than giving yourself in the service of God and mankind.
Thanks for this Joshua, you just made me reflect back.
Lori says
Amen. Thank you for that reminder!
Antonia says
Beautiful tribute that spoke volumes to me. Thank you!
mary in Texas says
Several years ago when I was teaching in middle school we had a meeting with parents. It was an informal meeting, not an over-organized PTA-type meeting. One father stood up and thanked the teachers for paying so much attention to the occasional struggles his son had. He said proudly that he drove a garbage truck and that by careful planning his wife could stay home with the children (five of them) and check on their homework and monitor their friends (not his words exactly). He said that she knew if she couldn’t answer questions that her family could go into the classroom early to get help. We all respected him as a hard worker and both he and his wife as good parents. All of their children graduated from high school, but none of them were likely to as successful as their parents. To us, as educators, the parents were super-successful
Oscar Torres says
beautiful message
Tiffany @ happythankfulhopeful says
Thank you for sharing this story, Joshua. This was literally the answer to my prayers and to a question I posed to myself in my blog merely 10 minute ago, where I wasn’t sure how to deal with a family member asking “”Why do you want to fail so much? …Why do you want to be a disappointment? …They don’t care about your heart.”
The answer is I should respond with love and humility. Those words were less about me and more about the person who said them and the hurt they hold.
Perhaps the celebration we are planning is a call in disguise for me to help them work through and resolve their pain and resentment.
Thank you very much for this impeccably-timed post. Your posts make a difference in people’s lives.
Cathy Baker says
I always learn from your posts, Joshua, and this one is no exception. This is, however, the first time I’ve commented. I’ve struggled in recent days, feeling like I’m spinning my wheels with my blog and other writing projects. I’ve compared myself to too many people and we know how that story ends. Your quote about being content with oneself resonated and I appreciate it. My grandmother, who basically raised me, also kept the nursery, and I lost her on December 23, 2007. Thanks so much for this post.
Indiana Davis says
hi Joshua. I read all your postings and find them very helpful in my life. This post in particular is very powerful. Thanks for writing it!
Jeanne says
Inspiring!
Margaret Welsh says
Beautiful!