I travel to a large construction site and clean out port-a-potties. That’s right. We drive small tanker trucks with a hose and a tube on the end and stop at about 80 or 90 units a day, suck out the stuff, refill them with water and a sanitizer tablet, scrub down the inside, replace the tp and move on. Not glamorous. But it pays well, and that’s the key right now, with bills to pay and a baby on the way.
What struck, me however, as I rode along with one of my co-workers today, learning the ropes, was that this is an important job that someone needs to do and do well. This construction site is like a small city, and sanitation and health concerns are a big factor, not to mention the simple fact that people working on a job site for several years need to be able to use the toilet in relatively decent environment.
The guy that was training me was kind of amazing. I’ll call him John. He was a middle-aged man who married a few years ago, has a couple of step-kids and a step-grandson and a wife with some psychological difficulties. As he told me his story I realized that he had lots of reasons to be bitter. Things had been hard for him. He had been treated poorly by his last employer. His wife’s condition was preventing him from getting health insurance. And he’s in late middle age working the job that everybody on the site doesn’t want for less money than 90% of the guys out there (almost all of whom are union).
But he wasn’t bitter. He took pride in his job, and not because he was simple or naive. He knew it wasn’t glamorous, that sometimes it sucks. He knew that when the site shuts down because of rain (like today) and all the union guys go home and still get a full day’s pay we stay out there and keep cleaning port-a-potties. But that wasn’t really the point. He understood that his job was his job and that’s what he’s paid for and that’s what he does… and he does it well. He was respectful, not just to the boss or the foreman, but to me, the new guy, and to everyone we met. He wasn’t too proud to be satisfied with the work he had to do, and he wasn’t too much of a hard-ass to be patient and teach me the ropes, explaining the details of a port-a-potty detail. At the end of the day he even bought me a soda.
This impressed me. And it made me think. Sometimes as Christians we act like ‘building the kingdom’ is an automatic ticket to truth and beauty, which we conceive of in Utopian fashion, as a world in which ’sh*t don’t stink.’ But it does. I don’t know how this works out with an optimistic view of what God is making this world to be, but I think that perhaps there’s something important about the idea that it’s our conception of what is worthwhile and meaningful that will change as much is it is that nothing hard or smelly will be required of us. I think contentment can be an overused word in Christian circles implying that lack of ambition or dreams is a virtue. But at the same time contentment is a virtue. I have a choice between being bitter that right now my calling seems to be cleaning up construction workers’ toilets, or being content and thankful that God has given me a better paying job than I’ve had through seminary and a way to provide for my family. May I be like John.