Patches of Godlight

In our apartment building back in Vilnius*, we were required to clean the common areas and entryway of our building every third month. There was a list on the main door as you left the building reminding all the tenants which months were their months to clean. Welcome to the cooperative neighborhood of a former Soviet state. Shared tasks. Shared duties.

It’s not that I minded this duty so much; it was more of a hassle than anything else. Daryl and I did the cleaning together—sweeping, dusting, and mopping. We also shook the welcome mats and cleaned off the sidewalk leading up to the building (and yes that included snow removal). But to be perfectly honest, this was never my favorite duty. Once I just half-heartedly swept and didn’t even mop! The people in the top apartment had three kids under the age of nine! They ALWAYS tracked in mud and dirt and they tracked it all the way to the top floor (yes, that was part of the cleaning requirement – do the stairs). There were even times—I hate to admit it—that we took paper towels and just spot-cleaned. Not really the right way to do this job. Ugh.

One month, when it was our turn to clean, Colossians 3:23 (NLT) kept rolling around in my head, “Work willingly at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people.”

Not just when you get paid.

Not just when people are watching.

Not just when you feel like it.

Not just stuff you enjoy.

The word “whatever” made me very uncomfortable.

Os Guinness tells a story that reminded me of this verse and it had tremendous convicting power in relationship to this cleaning task. I realized that what I did was either bringing glory to God or it wasn’t—that included cleaning the building hallways.

“Patches of Godlight” from Os Guinness’ book, The Call, (Thomas Nelson publishers: 2003),

“I have heard of many reasons why people step back from the verge of suicide, but the one that has meant the most to my family is also the most unusual—the fascination of seeing work well done.

“The young woman was eighteen years old, with two small children, and evidently vivacious, talented, and beautiful. But she was also orphaned, penniless, completely alone, away from home, and recently widowed in a duel that rocked her country and drove her into voluntary exile.

“So Jane Lucretia D’Esterre could be forgiven for her dark thoughts as she pondered the waters of the little river in Ecclefechan, Scotland. Pain ran through every fiber of her being. Despair filled her horizon. Death beckoned her with an offer of peace as alluring as the still depths of the water in front of her.

“The year was 1815. Dueling was still legal in England and Ireland. Jane Lucretia first heard of the duel that shattered her life when friends carried her dying husband into the house.

“On the day Jane D’Esterre gazed into the dark depths of the river, for some reason, she looked up and saw a young plowman setting to work in a field on the other bank of the river. He was whistling hymns; he was about her age but quite oblivious to her and to anything but his work. Meticulous, absorbed, skilled, he displayed such care and joy in his work that the newly turned rows of earth looked as finely executed as the paint strokes on an artist’s canvas.

“Despite herself Jane Lucretia was fascinated. Slowly she was drawn into the plowman’s care until admiration for him turned into wonder and wonder into rebuke. What was she doing collapsing into self-pity? How could she be so wrapped up in herself when two small children were dependent on her? Rebuked and braced, she got up, returned home, saved from suicide and reinvigorated by seeing the simple work of a young farmer well-done.

“I said earlier that such a reason was unusual. I also said that of all the reasons I know it meant the most to my family. The explanation is simple: Jane D’Esterre was my great-great-grandmother.

“A few weeks after this near brush with death, she came to faith. A few years later she met and married my great-great-grandfather John Grattan Guinness.

“If it had not been for the young, meticulous plowman, the tragedy of the dueling husband would have been followed by the tragedy of the duelist’s widow. She had been taken by work done in a special and careful way.

“My great-great-grandmother was unusual for several reasons—including the fact that she conscientiously prayed for her descendants down through a dozen generations. Ours is a heritage of faith for which I am deeply grateful.”

I seriously doubt doing a good job on the hallway would save anyone’s life, but still, Scripture admonishes, “And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him” (Colossians 3:17, NIV). I’d like to think that patches of Godlight will shine through my life even when no one but Christ is watching, because worshiping Him and bringing Him glory is part of my purpose, right? It’s truly part of the calling on all of our lives. Peace.

— Teri

*Daryl and I lived in Lithuania from 2010 to 2015 as academic missionaries. I taught philology and applied linguistics at Lithuanian University of Educational Sciences (LUES), now a part of Vilnius University. We loved our time there and try to return each year.