There is an adage sometimes attributed to Confucius that goes: “Choose a job you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.” I’m not sure that it is completely accurate. I have loved my career. The work I do inspires and calls me. I have not been one of those people who hates getting up and going to work. Then again, I’m not sure that I chose my line of work as much as it chose me. I had the luxury of being able to pursue my academic interests when I was a college student. My education was a huge priority for my family and I knew I was supported in following my passion and taking the courses that most interested me. There was something about going to college that was radically different for me than high school. In college I was following my passion. And my passion led me to graduate school and after that to ordination. There was no single day when I woke up and said, “Gee, I think I’d like to be a minister.” Rather it was a process of making and honoring commitments.

Having said that, however, there have been plenty of tasks along the way that were difficult and challenging for me. Work has not always been easy. There have been days of slogging through certain jobs when I might have chosen different ones. I’m not a big fan of making phone calls, but I have to push myself to make phone calls nearly every day. There are times when I’d prefer to work alone in my study, reading books and writing, but I have learned to make myself get out and be with the people I serve. I wouldn’t describe myself as one who loves fund raising, but I’ve done a lot of raising funds over the span of my career. When retirement came along, I thought I would relish not having meetings, but I have chosen to return to a life with plenty of meetings.

I don’t think I would describe my life as one in which I “never worked a day in my life.”

I suspect that as much as people want to have careers that involve the things they care about - and even love - there are downsides to combining passions with working lives. Recently I read about a McKinsey survey that concluded that two-thirds of all US-based workers said the pandemic had made them re-evaluate their purpose of life. Half of those surveyed were reconsidering the kind of work they do as a result. Another survey showed that 40% of respondents thought it was “very” or “extremely” likely that they would be able to make money from their hobby.

I don’t count myself in that camp. I love making canoes and kayaks. It is extremely unlikely that I could turn that hobby into something that produced income. And if I did, I don’t think I would enjoy doing the same thing with pressures and deadlines. Part of what I like about the way I build boats is that I work at my own pace and that pace is very slow. I don’t want to turn that into production. I don’t track my expenses very carefully. Would it be as much fun with spreadsheets and budgets and the need for careful accounting? I don’t think so.

Still, I admit that I have always had the luxury of feeling that the work I do is meaningful and I have not maintained rigid boundaries between work and leisure. Is taking a group of youth camping or skiing work or is it leisure? Is traveling with a work tour from church my job or my vacation? Do I tell stories because it is my job or because I love telling stories?

Unlike some of the people in the surveys, I think that the Pandemic has forced me into ways of working that are not as meaningful as the way I worked before Covid. On Sunday I was fortunate to be invited to participate in worship leadership at our church. I worked hard at my presentation of the scripture. It was the kind of work that inspired me over the decades of my pre-retirement career. And I think I did a pretty good job. My boss was appreciative. I got an email from a church member that was very complementary. I haven’t heard any negative feedback. Still, it wasn’t like the days when leading worship was standing in front of a live congregation. Delivering my story to a camera is not the same thing as talking to a live audience.

I guess that hosting meetings over Zoom and broadcasting worship over FaceBook isn’t the job that I love in the sense of the quote about never working a day in my life. Then again, I don’t think that it is my goal to never work a day in my life. I don’t want to go through another summer of tipping garbage cans into the back of a compactor, but I don’t want to be someone who never experienced that kind of work. It makes me happy that our garbage collectors have trucks that lift the cans from the curb and it always puts a smile on my face when we have our collection days adjusted because of a holiday when they don’t have to pick up trash. I always wave at them with a sense of belonging to the family of people who have done that kind of work. I know that I am a better and safer driver because of the miles I drove big trucks pulling heavy trailers down the highway. I feel a kinship with bus drivers born of a part-time job that I held to make ends meet for my family.

I don’t want to be a person who has “never worked a day in my life.”

In a little while I’ll be finishing breakfast and I’ll get in the car and drive to the office where I will respond to emails, make phone calls, plan a couple more Zoom meetings, and participate in a staff meeting (over Zoom). I’m not sure that it is choosing a job I love, but it is not something I am sad to do. Having good work with good people is a blessing. I won’t get rich in money from the work I do, but the income I receive is sufficient for a comfortable life with a good home and plenty of money for groceries. It seems fair compensation for what I do. I’ve always been treated well by the congregations that have employed me.

And despite the lack of the kind of instant feedback that a live congregation gives, I think I’m pretty good at the work I do - good enough to keep doing it. I’m not one of the folks who is seeking a change of career from the pandemic.