Unappreciation: A Broken Circle (of Pizza)
Psalm 35:27
"Let the Lord be exalted, who delights in the prosperity of his
servant."
What is "prosperity?" Is it threads of life weaved into a
bright outcome? a full cup? ample riches? worldly applause? an unbroken circle?
No! these are often a snare; received without gratitude; dimming the soul to its
nobler destinies. Often spiritually, it rather means God taking us by the hand
into the lowly Valleys of Humiliation; leading us as He did His servant
Job of old; out of his sheep, oxen, camels, health, wealth, children; in order
that we may be brought before Him in the dust, and say, "Blessed be His holy
name!" John MacDuff
Perhaps the most lethal malady of a soul is a lack of gratitude. Taking God's good gifts for granted but then whining like Divas when adversity comes our way.
Yesterday, after getting beat up both on the way up and down the mountain when biking, for there is no escape from rigor even downhill in mountain biking unlike street biking--in fact going down is even more exhausting--my riding buddy and I headed to the local pizza and beer joint for victuals. A remarkably excellent establishment stocked of authentic natives from Italy. In Central Pa. of all places. Not exactly a Roman enclave.
The waitress had some sass and humor and we got in a tit-for-tat conversation about nothing in particular. A discussion of looking good in a Speedo was a high point. As we sat outside in the lovely warming sun and breezes, my buddy and I got in a chat about the hardness of working in the restaurant business. I spent many a weekend as a youth face first in large pots trying to chisel out the refried beans turned into concrete at the dump of a Mexican restaurant I worked at. I had no car and no skills so I took what I could get within walking distance of my home. Hard labor. Had more to do with my taking my college studies seriously than anything else. I knew life of the mind was my only way out of the hell of the kitchen. Cheese and taco sauce like fire and brimstone.
The restaurant business is harsh. Unless one works at an upscale place, the money is scarce and the work is hard. A really bad dish. I was regaling my buddy Rob about some of my experiences at the dive I worked at and a common theme that came out was feeling totally unappreciated. Working my ass off for paltry wages with very little congratulations and appreciation coming my way. Being treated sub-human by the cute but ditzy waitresses and the greasy management. The swamp thing. That is what I called myself in trying to characterize the approach of others to me.
Somehow one of the pizza joint's employees out on a smoke break got kneaded into the dough of the conversation and he added some sauce to our story-line dish of working in food service. A native of Italy, he spoke in a thick Italian accented English, of how he feels used when customers come into the shop all drunk, or call in for a delivery, in a stupous state around closing time. These customers lack even a slice of appreciation for his efforts. Instead they act as if it is their God-given right to act like asses.
We shared with him that God rewards those who treat others with grace even when they don't deserve it, for we are most like Christ when we serve the thankless. In fact, the less thankful man is in response to our good works, the more God promises to rise up and reward our souls, making up the difference. The man seemed to appreciate our conversation because as we got up to leave, he gave both my buddy and I hugs. Pretty remarkable. Make your pizza unto God. He doth appreciate it.
Perhaps the most lethal malady of a soul is a lack of gratitude. Taking God's good gifts for granted but then whining like Divas when adversity comes our way.
Yesterday, after getting beat up both on the way up and down the mountain when biking, for there is no escape from rigor even downhill in mountain biking unlike street biking--in fact going down is even more exhausting--my riding buddy and I headed to the local pizza and beer joint for victuals. A remarkably excellent establishment stocked of authentic natives from Italy. In Central Pa. of all places. Not exactly a Roman enclave.
The waitress had some sass and humor and we got in a tit-for-tat conversation about nothing in particular. A discussion of looking good in a Speedo was a high point. As we sat outside in the lovely warming sun and breezes, my buddy and I got in a chat about the hardness of working in the restaurant business. I spent many a weekend as a youth face first in large pots trying to chisel out the refried beans turned into concrete at the dump of a Mexican restaurant I worked at. I had no car and no skills so I took what I could get within walking distance of my home. Hard labor. Had more to do with my taking my college studies seriously than anything else. I knew life of the mind was my only way out of the hell of the kitchen. Cheese and taco sauce like fire and brimstone.
The restaurant business is harsh. Unless one works at an upscale place, the money is scarce and the work is hard. A really bad dish. I was regaling my buddy Rob about some of my experiences at the dive I worked at and a common theme that came out was feeling totally unappreciated. Working my ass off for paltry wages with very little congratulations and appreciation coming my way. Being treated sub-human by the cute but ditzy waitresses and the greasy management. The swamp thing. That is what I called myself in trying to characterize the approach of others to me.
Somehow one of the pizza joint's employees out on a smoke break got kneaded into the dough of the conversation and he added some sauce to our story-line dish of working in food service. A native of Italy, he spoke in a thick Italian accented English, of how he feels used when customers come into the shop all drunk, or call in for a delivery, in a stupous state around closing time. These customers lack even a slice of appreciation for his efforts. Instead they act as if it is their God-given right to act like asses.
We shared with him that God rewards those who treat others with grace even when they don't deserve it, for we are most like Christ when we serve the thankless. In fact, the less thankful man is in response to our good works, the more God promises to rise up and reward our souls, making up the difference. The man seemed to appreciate our conversation because as we got up to leave, he gave both my buddy and I hugs. Pretty remarkable. Make your pizza unto God. He doth appreciate it.
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