I recently moved to a new place. Having first used movers for the first time several years ago, I confess: I’m addicted. Particularly with a library of thousands of books, movers have become indispensable to making the process anything less than utterly exhausting. So for this move, I hired movers once again.

But I ended up getting more than I bargained for.

Honest Work is Dignified Work

There were three of them. All of them were Mexican immigrants. It was a weekend, and they didn’t arrive until 7:15 PM. Not only that, they came from over an hour and a half away.

They were young men, in their late 20’s and mid-30’s. The leader had a family — a wife and two children. He was only 28. And despite the fact that it was a late night on the weekend, and they would be up at 7 AM the next day to do it all over again, they worked incredibly hard and with great skill. Everything was moved out of the old residence, and into the new one, in three hours. I have rarely seen such hard, diligent work.

This had a profound impact on me. All work that is honest work is dignified work. I have always believed that. But it will likely come as no surprise to many that manual labor of this type is not something that I have ever aspired to. I suspect most people don’t. That in no way takes away from its dignity. But it is to say that certain types of work don’t attract most of us. Intense lifting and carrying of boxes and furniture I suspect is among them. And yet here were these men, about my age, far from home, late at night, with families back home — and doing an excellent job. They were kind, courteous, hardworking, and they exemplified excellence. They were even … happy.

Convicted by Gratitude

I was humbled.

In the midst of a transition period in my own life I’ve had my own worries, concerns and stresses about the future. All the same, I’m in a beautiful new place. I’ve been well-provided for financially, and can do the vast majority of my work from home — and, it’s quite likely that this will be the case for most of my life.

Being confronted with these humble, hard-working young men, who in material terms have far more difficult lives than myself, I was brought low. I realized how easily I had become complacent in expressing gratitude — how easily I forget how intensely blessed I am.

It was late in the evening by the time these men were prepared to leave. (They would be getting home well past midnight at the earliest). I was so honored by the quality of their work that I told them I wanted to go to the ATM and get more cash to give them each a bigger tip. They greatly appreciated that, and we went to the bank. They left, and I sat in my car — grateful but somewhat ashamed.

All true religion begins with gratitude. All true conservatism begins with gratitude — the idea that we have been given much, and therefore our life work is not simply the creation of something new, but the preservation of something given to us: our inheritance, our heritage. The night I moved, I was brought closer to the heart of Jesus — the God who became man, and counted it not robbery. I, the financially and materially blessed young man, was confronted with young men in worse material circumstances than myself, but who nonetheless brought me closer to God.

The Spirit is greater than the flesh.