Lately I have been struggling with why I am doing what I am doing. My work at the preservation board seems, frankly, to be a bit anachronistic at times. It is a very strong secular moral system, which says that the older the building or the more unique the architecture, the more virtuous the salvation of that building. Those who damage the oldest and most unique are the reprobate. However, as a Christian, I am often disturbed by this value system. After all, they're just building which will crumble into dust one day. I feel that I should be doing work that, instead of conserving the dead past, is making a brighter future. I should be fighting poverty, or increasing literacy, or making innovations and wealth. In short, I should not be wasting my time on stones and mortar and buildings that were built out of hubric pride.
This attitude at times extends into a much deeper part of my life. Why am I interested in history and theology, the story of dead humans and an invisible God? Why not do something practical, like chemistry? Or useful, like Psychiatry? Why am I wasting my time?
Because despite our fascination with the new and the dazzling and the high-tech, the ancestry of tradition still matters. True, I could be an architect of the brave new world. I could make a killing in business, with enough money to buy a country (actually, this is probably a delusion of some sort, but the point remains). I could investigate new theories, advance knowledge, build whole new universes of abstract thought. Or I could work to solve world hunger, sex trafficking, pollution and the thousand other social ills. I could make a name for myself, like the people of Genesis 10.
But who holds the hand of the mother whose son has just been shot? Who hugs the grieving, visits the sick and prays with the hurting? Who looks a poor person in the eyes, and says "I see past your rags and your smell and your casual attitude towards life. I see the pain inside you."
It isn't the investment banker. That is bad business.
It isn't the tech innovator. You can't reprogram the social structure with a few strokes of the keyboard.
It isn't the cop. The law only allows the police so much working space.
It isn't even the humanitarian. A humanitarian worker must set up limits and boundaries. They must set target goals, including who they will help and when and for what reasons. This is not selfish, it is part of prioritizing the need. It is part of the job.
Only the neighborhood pastor can look someone in the eyes and say, "God is working in your life even though your jobs are gone, your child is dead, and you have no hope.". By pastor, I am not necessarily referring to the ordained person. Rather, I am talking about the shepherd of humanity, the man or woman who is entrusted by God to round off the sharp corners of existence and continue to give people hope.
Hope. It is the type of capital missing from our city neighborhoods. It is what we seek to bring when we fight poverty and rescue girls from trafficking. It is the thing we desire when we fight against oppression and tyranny and injustice. And hope comes from God.
In a way, this is what all Christians should be doing. Evangelism and service are necessary duties, but the ultimate goal of Christianity is not to make converts or end squalor. It is to give everyone a hope that transcends death and suffering and mortality. This is the function of the church in the secular age. We must bring hope to all.
Get off soapbox, get back onto street.
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