Blue Collar

I grew up in a blue collar family. I began working at an early age raking leaves, mowing yards, cutting trees and running a paper route. Things were not handed to me. I worked to earn bicycles and record players. I learned the value of hard work and a dollar because I worked. During my high school years I did not know what it was like to sleep a whole night through. I got up around 230 a.m. day after day (except ruing football season) to run my route. I usually finished around 6:00-6;30 a.m. and then went to school during the day. I did so to pay my Jeep payment.

In college I worked construction work during one summer and worked at furniture stores delivering furniture. During my last days at Howard Payne University I worked for the campus maintenance department. Blue collar all the way.

Over the years I have run a jack hammer, driven a dump truck, pushed a rock bar, and dropped galleons of sweat in the blazing hot sun. My heart's desire has been to give my life to ministry and the church.

I have known the joy of serving churches full time. I have enjoyed my own office, worn slacks and a dress shirt to work. I have been treated with honor having bankers and other high officials in the community come welcome me to the community while I chuckled on the inside. I have served white collar people and loved them. Down deep I have always known I was a bloc collar man. though.

Today I wear jeans and boots most days. I no longer have an office to go to. My office is in my house. Over the past three years the boys and I have mowed yards. Yesterday we hauled hay. I could not have been prouder of my four boys who worked. They moved hundreds of bales of hay. Even Turner, the youngest at 11, tugged, flipped, dragged, and lifted bale after bale. They worked hard. Later on this morning we will be back in the hay field. It is not my dream. I would rather give my days to writing, studying for messages, and working at ministry. Maybe God will allow that to happen again one day down the road.

It dawns on me this morning that I am working on ministry with my sons. They are learning lessons passed down to me from my mother and grandparents. They are learning the value of hard work. They know what it means to WORK. I watched Tucker climb up in highest part of a hay barn to stack bales while Taylor and Tanner threw them up to him. They worked past exhaustion. Way past it!

My hands ache. My shoulders are sore. My back is stiff. If you have ever hauled hay you know exactly what I am talking about. Yet the pride in my heart of watching my four sons grow into young men brings a special reward. I guess no matter what church I serve or the size of that congregation I will always be blue collar. I will go to my grave blue collar. I will always be more at home in a cafe than a five star restaurant. I am comfortable in jeans and slacks. I am most at home behind the pulpit preaching my guts out expounding the glorious truth of God's word. One day I hope to trade days mowing yards or in the hay field for more ministry. I am thankful for getting to share these blue collar experiences with four sons who bring me more joy and delight than I can ever put into words. Even when we are working blue collar jobs.