Be a Tool
We’ve all heard that you must have the right tool for the job, right? Want to drive some nails into a board? I’d recommend a hammer. Looking to cut a tree down? Chainsaw my friend! Need to scoop some rock-hard ice cream from a half gallon container? That is one job that I have not found a sufficient tool for other than massive forearm strength!
To do tangible work you need the right tool for the job. Doctors use specialized instruments along with years of education to perform surgery. Farmers use land, tractors, and the weather to produce crops and work the land. Whatever you do I’m sure that there is a tool that allows you to be effective at your work.
My Dad taught me a lot about tools as well as how to be one. Yes! You read that right! My Dad is a tool and he taught me how to be one as well. Now that might sound like a corny middle school joke but allow me to explain.
My Dad left the business world when I was young and went to seminary. My family sold the house with the swimming pool and we set up a new home in a tiny apartment in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. We made it through his schooling with far less money than we previously had but we never lacked. We eventually moved to a one red-light town when I was 7 and he started his pastoring career. I knew my Dad as my Dad but he taught from the Bible and did a lot of things that you would maybe expect Pastors to do. But over a few months my Dad showed me that it’s not just ok to be a tool...it’s what we are called to do!
During the winter I had a buddy over to hang out. I’m guessing we were 8 or 9 years old and there was snow on the ground. It was inevitable that a snowball would commence and we went outside and lobbed snowballs at each other. Then my Dad jumped in and he showed his spaghetti-for-arms son just how strong his Dad strength was by firing a frozen snowball across the yard and right into the face of my friend.
Immediately after contact there was silence. Then the footsteps of my Dad running towards my friend. Then the accurate comment from my buddy, “You aren’t very nice for being a pastor Mr. Beck!”. It’s pretty funny to remember that and it still brings a smile to my Dad’s face but I do recall that my Dad made it up to ol’ David and he is still a friend. For as much as my Dad taught from the Bible and is a natural teacher he still messes up. We all do that! But standing in front of a crowd with a microphone every Sunday never meant he was above anyone or above fault. I would never wish a frozen snowball to the face of a 9-year old but in that moment there was a practical moment for my Dad to show empathy, apologize, and care for someone that needed it. It was biblical teaching in action. My Dad was a tool for faith in action.
Even we when are the perpetrator of an accident there is a pathway to restore relationships. It’s applying faith to our everyday steps and misteps.
Months later I had a hankering to go to the town basketball courts. I had a basketball hoop in the driveway where I honed my skills but it was lacking a bit. It was on a gravel driveway and it was sloped. It was a giant guessing game to dribble on that surface and I longed for pavement and a regulation court. I was also a wee bit intimidated by the prospect of heading to the playground because I could often hear the language being used and the music blasting from boomboxes in my own driveway. But to get to the real court I’d have to venture into that arena.
With my dad by my side we walked down to the courts. I simply wanted to fit in and play basketball. I wasn’t sure how my Dad would take to fitting in…I mean the last time I wanted him to “fit in” he clocked my friend with a snowball. Plus I had a preconceived notion in my head that as a Pastor he would come down on the music, language, or the teens smoking on the side of the court. I wasn’t allowed to do any of that so in my mind I figured that there would be some discussion. Ugh.
The Beastie Boys blasted from the boombox as we entered the court and started shooting. It didn’t take long but the next thing I know we were being summoned to play in a pickup game. I was excited by that prospect because it would give me a chance to show off whatever skills I had as a 9-year old. I was also a bit nervous because even as a 9-year old I just wanted to fit in. And having a pastor Dad come down on the behavior of some seemingly led-astray teens was not going to help.
The teams were selected and we started running the court. I launched jump shots when given the chance and my Dad reached way back to his glory days and unleashed hook shots that actually went in the basket. We played a long time while the Beastie Boys continued to Fight For Their Right to Party.
I remember some of the language was poor but the defense on my Dad was also poor as he backed some helpless teen in the paint only to take an easy layup for a bucket. There were things that I thought were contrary to my Dad’s career choice like rap music with not-so-wholesome lyrics and kids that smoked, swore, and were a bit rough around the edges. But the reality is that is exactly where my Dad was supposed to be. He was a tool.
The old church he pastored at had a wrought iron fence that surrounded the property with little spikes at the top of each post. Some may call it art but to me it looked like a great deterrant for anyone thinking of attending the church. It almost looked like a way for the church goers to keep the non-church goers away! But my basketball game with my Dad showed a different story. If you proclaim to follow Jesus and have him in your heart do you know where you need to go? You need to be out with the people!
The kids at the game certainly had a different home life than I did. There were guidelines and expectations that I was expected to follow. I’m not so sure the town kids had that. But there is something to meeting others where they are and building relationships slowly and through experiences. I think my Dad showed that if you are going to share Jesus you need to know where others are coming from first; and leading with condemnation of behavior usually cuts off any further friendship.
There’s a big difference between being an available tool for God to use versus thinking we need to manipulate and use others as tools. One points back to our Creator and the other points back to us…at the expense of others. One is rooted in humility while the other is promoting a perceived perfection.
My Dad showed me at a young age it’s ok to be a tool. If you ask me he still is! Haha! But that’s a good thing. There are a lot of tools in the toolbox and we all have a gift, a talent, and a mission. It’s not until we let go and be held in the hand of a master craftsman that will we let the world see His handiwork. Go ahead, be a tool!
