Romans 8:14-15, “For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, ‘Abba, Father.’”
It was just over 20 years ago when a couple from church I hardly knew asked my brother and I to help them remodel their 100-year-old farmhouse. It started during a fundraiser for our youth group at church.
We called it “Slave Day,” but you couldn’t call it that anymore. We’d do anything for folks in the church as long as they donated something to the youth group. Ray showed us around the outside of the house and then said in his West Virginia accent, “We’re going to make her beautiful again, and we’re going to start by giving her back her front porch.”
It sounded good, but what I didn’t know was that it meant I’d be laying on my belly all day with my head in a hole digging out rocks so we could get the posts deep enough to satisfy the building inspector.
My brother and I worked hard all afternoon. We were dirty and we were tired, and we weren’t sure when quitting time was. Then we heard Ray come walking around the side of the house. The way he walked sounded happy, but the way we were feeling was tired and hungry.
“We still got lots to do if we’re going to set the posts tomorrow,” he said. “But it’s time to get warshed up for supper. Come on boys.”
I didn’t understand because I’d never had a job before that included getting warshed up for supper. I thought this was just a job.
Ray invited us in and introduced us to his wife, Janie; she insisted we call her that. She showed us the warshroom where there were fresh towels for each of us. We made a mess of the sink and then came out together.
Janie had set the table in the dining room with silverware and china. At home we almost always ate at the kitchen table. We sat down, two teenage boys with an older married couple we had only just met, and Janie began to serve us hearty roast beef, potatoes, fresh vegetables from their garden, and a salad that had more than just lettuce.
We ate. We laughed. We talked, until Ray noticed that I was starting to look uncomfortable. He knew why. “It’s ok, Eric,” he said, “you’re still on the clock.”
They called the fundraiser “Slave Day—and we did work hard—but Ray and Janie didn’t treat us like slaves, or even like employees. The treated us like sons.
That wasn’t the only day we worked for Ray and Janie. We helped them for almost two years. When they went out of town, we stayed in their house and looked after their dogs.
I still remember a visit, several years ago, back at that church where we met. It had been a while since we had seen them, so we introduced our children to them, and they introduced their children to us: Two boys and a girl, all adopted from foreign countries. They’re intelligent, well-dressed, sharp kids… and, they said, they prayed for us and our ministry every day. And they’re loved by their parents.
You see, for Ray and Janie, their beautiful farmhouse was too much for two people alone. It had to be shared.
And I’ve visited them in their home since. They welcomed me like a son, my wife like a daughter-in-law, and our children like their own grandchildren.
Yes, God has work for us to do: 2 Corinthians 5:18-19 says we are called to the ministry of reconciliation, restoring His household, working with Him to make it beautiful again. But at the end of the day, the invitation is open to come to His table and dine with Him—as sons.
