There are a few things I can do that will get my eight-year-old son super excited.
I can play football with him.
I can let him eat his plain cheeseburger inside Wendy’s on one of our adventure outings, which we’ve dubbed “Boys’ Day.”
But nothing gets him more pumped than these words:
“Hey buddy, come help your dad.”
This past Sunday was the fall chili crock-pot extravaganza at the church we’ve been attending. My job was to get a bubbling, sloshing vat of delicious, soupy goodness from our house to the church.
I enlisted the boy to help.
“Hey buddy, come help your dad.”
He opened the door for me, guided me to the truck, and made sure we had our Bibles so I could focus on the crock-pot.
When we arrived at church, he did the same thing.
A few minutes later, his mom arrived. In front of him, I told her what a great job he’d done helping get the crock-pot to the church.
He lit up.
I try to remind myself how much joy he finds in helping me. Sometimes, I’m tempted to do things by myself. If I’m honest, he’s not the most efficient helper. I mean, he’s eight.
But there’s something special about letting him help hold a door, shine a flashlight, carry out the trash, or tackle some other seemingly insignificant chore.
Because it’s not really about the chore.
It’s about doing something together.
And it reminds me of a critical part of my relationship with God.
For we are God’s fellow workers. You are God’s field, God’s building. — 1 Corinthians 3:9
God’s design has always included His people working alongside Him. Sometimes that seems strange, because He certainly doesn’t need my help.
I’m a pretty terrible helper most of the time.
Yet there’s a joy in being a co-laborer with our Father that I don’t think we can fully explain.
Sometimes I hesitate to serve in the church or do something for someone else because I wonder: Why would an all-powerful God need me? We might be tempted to think the work should be done by the professionals. We put pastors on a pedestal.
What can little ol’ me do to help a big God?
Paul addressed that kind of thinking when the Corinthians began choosing sides between him and Apollos. He reminded them that they were servants working together to plant and water, but God is the one who gives growth.
Service is privilege made possible by grace.
And I get to work from His grace, not work for it.
Just as I delight in my son helping me with something I could easily do myself, I believe our heavenly Father delights in His children participating in His work.
Throughout Scripture, God works through imperfect men and women to accomplish His purposes. He extends His grace, equips His people, and invites them to participate in what He’s doing.
The privilege isn’t that God needs us.
It’s that He welcomes us despite our flaws.
And sometimes, all it takes to get started is hearing the invitation:
Hey buddy, come help your Father.
The church picnic went well.
Hopefully, someone was blessed by a bowl of homemade goodness.
I did manage to mess up one thing. I told the lady making the placards that the soup my wife had prepared was white chicken chili.
Turns out, my wife prefers to call it taco soup.
So she had to change the placard before the masses started reaching for the ladles.
Like I said, I’m a pretty terrible helper sometimes.
Thankfully, over the years, my wife has become an expert at extending me grace.
So has my Father.
And even when I get things wrong, He still invites me to be a co-laborer in His fields and in His building.
I’m grateful that the work has never depended on my perfection.
And I’m grateful that the Heavenly Father still says, “Hey buddy, give me a hand.”
