Changing Diapers for God

Most of us have ordinary jobs. Most of us work eight or nine hours a day. My wife, with her sixteen-hour-a-day work schedule as a mom, laughs at that. And still, she has to put up with people asking, “Do you work or are you just an ordinary housewife?” As if she goes through the same routine without variation.

We think of Jesus as extraordinary in his performing of miracles, his creative and resurrection power. Yet Jesus was ordinary in so many ways. According to the prophet Isaiah, he wouldn’t look like a movie star. He rode into town on a donkey when any respectable leader would have arrived on a majestic horse. He performed common acts like telling stories to his friends and barbecuing for them on a beach. Yet when we look deeper into these specific stories, they are extraordinary. How often do we achieve great results by putting others first? What stories do we tell that change lives and turn the world upside down? Of course, the greatest reversal comes with Jesus taking up the cross that should have belonged to us.

When people find out I’m an English professor, they become self-conscious about the words they use. I put them at ease and tell them I’m currently a Texan, and I ain’t worried about that. When they find out I’m a published poet, they often put themselves in an even more defensive posture, saying, “Oh, I’m not a creative person.” It’s a comment I hear often from Christians, and it bothers me. In fact, I believe God expects for us to be constantly creative.

In Genesis, God says, “Let us create man in our image.” He's just finished a long workweek creating the world. And then God, the Creator, makes us “in his image.” He makes us creators, too. Whether we're fixing copiers or washing dishes, designing brake pads or changing diapers, we are being creative. All good work is creative. We must be creative, too, if we want to do “a good job.”

Of course, I recognize changing a diaper entails a different kind of creativity than writing a poem (I do both at my house).

I learn plenty from my wife. My wife sings to our daughter while changing her diaper, lets her hold a book or a small toy, tells her what they are going to do later in the day, or tells her how much she loves her. Yet I shouldn’t be too romantic about it. When I change a diaper, there is often gagging and weeping and gnashing of teeth. But it is a monotonous chore I can only make “good” if I try to bring a creative love into the equation.

After all, God cleans up my nasty messes on a daily basis.

Look back at the first two chapters of Genesis. Every act of God's creativity is “good.” Can we say this about our work? That we have done it for good, done it well? If we can imbue our work with this kind of care, with this kind of love, we can’t help but see God in our work.

We help create the world with each action of our work. Is it a world we demean because our work serves only ourselves? Or is it a world constructed in order that others can love and be loved?