I come from a long line of laborers of all kinds: skilled, manual, service, transportation, manufacturers, technical, and artists. According to my dad’s studies on Ancestry.com, my 5th great grandfather, Antonio Molina, was brought over from Italy in the late 1700s to work the vineyards near Monticello for Thomas Jefferson.
His 3rd great grandson–my papaw–was a professional musician and owner-teacher of the Mullins School of Music in Georgia. He was the son of a farmer and the father of a driven young man who worked his way up the corporate ladder in the carpet industry, starting in the dye house and eventually becoming vice president of manufacturing at a major carpet factory before his time as General Manager for a sheikh-owned carpet factory in Saudi Arabia.
On my mother’s side, my grandfather left a volatile home situation in the 1930s to hop trains looking for any work he could find to support himself at just 14 years old. He later went on to fight in World War II, barely making it home before becoming a Baptist minister.
His daughter–my mother–left school as a sophomore to work in fast food and help support her parents. She eventually became the owner and operator of a Christian bookstore in Northwest Georgia between her stints as president of the Parent-Teacher-Association.
This legacy of labor shaped my own journey from an early age. On top of that, my sister and I had daily chores, and every Saturday, our entire house received a thorough cleaning before we worked together outside in the yard as a family to maintain the prettiest landscape on the block. These tedious tasks would be the foundation of my work ethic, established by the ones who taught me that, “If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well.” (Lord Chesterfield)
Once my parents opened the bookstore, I worked there after school until I turned 15. That’s when I landed my first “real job” at Arby’s as soon as I could get a work-permit. I was thrilled to smell like curly fries and super sauce for $3.25 an hour.
I still remember holding that first paycheck like it was a golden ticket. I marched into K-Mart, bought Lionel Richie’s new LP, “Dancing on the Ceiling,” a Panama Jack tank top for band camp, and still had enough left over to feel like I could buy the world– until I realized taxes were a thing. That was my first lesson in grown-up economics. Turns out, the government always gets the first bite of your roast beef sandwich. But, I digress.
I am now 53 years old. Except for the 3 years we spent in Saudi Arabia, and the two-year sabbatical I took between our time as houseparents at a boys’ ranch and my return to special education in the public school sector, I have labored nearly every day. That is 33 years–approximately 12,045 days (give or take for weekends and holidays), if anyone’s counting.
Looking back, it’s clear that this rhythm of work hasn’t been just about earning a paycheck–it is about living out something deeper. Working with my hands, my heart, my mind has brought a profound sense of purpose. It has helped me embrace the opportunity to honor God as a faithful steward of the resources he has entrusted to me.
Genesis 2:15 reminds us that we were created by God to work with intention: “The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it.” Work was part of God’s design from the beginning–not a burden or a punishment, but a calling, an offering. It is a chance to live out Colossians 3:23: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.” Through our effort and integrity, we can worship God in the mundane moments of labor.
Our labor is an offering. Whether it’s a mop, a music stand, a cash register, a podium, or a corporate desk, our labor matters to God. It’s not just about what we do, but about how we do it and Who we do it for.
So, let this Labor Day be a reminder that our work is sacred. And, when the next workday rolls around, with that alarm clock that goes off way too early, may we jump at the chance to labor with joy, purpose, and reverence. Knowing that every task placed in our hands holds value in the eyes of God. We have the opportunity to reflect the goodness of Jesus and bring Glory to the ultimate Laborer who set the Divine example of how we should work. The One who labors for us and with us. The One who invites us to join Him in meaningful work–not just for provision, but for purpose.
Happy Labor (for Jesus) Day!
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