Community Post: Sweeter Than Chocolate

I remember the brilliant light igniting the eerie black mornings, the sun still fast asleep in the hay. The chocolate letters jumped off the blazing white sign that hung over main street revealing the owner’s name of the small town’s only donut shop and place to get a cup-a-joe in the dreaded hours when adolescent eyes burn and yearn to be battened down.

JJ’s Donuts was blue-collar central, filled with rough-and-tumble construction workers on the days that I was pried from my warm bed to learn the dreaded discipline of manhood. The only consolation for my smoldering eyes and taste buds was the bun- shaped glazed donut slathered in chocolate frosting, stuffed with luscious whipped cream, not to mention the tiny carton of chocolate milk to wash down the heavenly treat.

One of the burly construction bunch would always greet my dad. “Mornin’ Harley,” he’d call out.

“Mornin’ Bob,” my dad would answer with a generous wave of his left hand, sipping the piping hot coffee with his right, me artfully scarfing the stuffed donut, balancing between biting and licking the escaping whipped cream with the precision only a child can muster.

I knew Mr. V’s two sons. One was a grade above me in my sister’s class and the other in mine. At the time, I had no idea that I’d forge lifelong relationships with the family. Sprinkle in thirty plus years to the kneading of life and perspectives change. Not long ago, I was able to sit with Bob and his wife at our table for Italian, of course. He was in town not for nostalgia, but for treatment for the cancer he was battling.

I later heard Bob had taken a turn for the worse. I called my dad that night to pass along the news and my concern. I wasn’t sure of Bob’s faith, but I asked my dad to do what I’d seen him do all of my life; share the truth of God’s love with others.

“I’ll go see Bob first thing in the morning, son,” my dad said, and he did. He called me later and put my mind at ease about Bob and his security for eternity. They had laughed about the bygone days that get behind all of us faster than a speeding bullet. Regardless how rough and tumble, the days eventually caught up to both Bob and my dad -- and they will to me as well.

The memory reminds me that my title is of little consequence in reality and eternity. What I do to support my family doesn’t take away my responsibility and privilege to share the Good News I’ve received by pure grace and Who I serve should speak boldly in my actions.

I could never have imagined there could be a more heavenly taste than a chocolate and whipped cream donut washed down by ice cold chocolate milk. Then again, I couldn’t fathom working hard, sipping coffee, or sharing the truth of God’s love either.

That sweet chocolate donut doesn’t begin to approach the gratification of our souls fulfilled by the taste of our compassion fulfilled by our vocation. It is our honor… our High Calling.

Floyd Samons is an Arizona contractor who works hard, eats an occasional donut, and blogs at www.ThereGoI.com

This article is part of a series at The High Calling on "The Local Church Equipping Us in Our Vocations." It seems that in many church contexts, what we do Monday through Friday is the least important thing. But shouldn't Christ be the Lord of our work as much as the Lord of our church's ministry programs, our marriages, and our families? Here at The High Calling we not only want to equip and empower the laity to live out their faith in their vocations, but we want to inspire church leaders toequip their people to do so as well. How can church leaders help their congregants to steward their vocations? How can church communities embrace a discipleship paradigm that includes the workplace? If you want to inspire people in your church community to embrace how the vocations of lay people glorify God, why not encourage them by sharing links to these articles in emails, Facebook posts, or through some other social media?