A Good Tired
Rhythms of rest are vital, but we shouldn't diminish the gift of hard work
I just finished reading the memoir of Carl F. H. Henry, 20th-century theologian and leader. If you aren’t familiar with him, this biographical talk from my friend Nathan A. Finn is helpful.
The memoir is interesting. Published in 1986, Henry, like the journalist he was, dutifully chronicles his life, sometimes in a workmanlike chronicling of his very busy calendar, sometimes with vivid details about his experiences, and often with candid commentary that can only come from someone in the last season of a meaningful and influential life.
I read this book because I’ve done some writing that lately involved Henry, but mostly because 20th-century evangelicalism is an ongoing research interest of mine. I’m increasingly drawn to the men and women who shaped the world I was born into and who continue to matter a quarter century into the 21st century.
One thing that struck me as I read about Carl Henry is just how productive he was. It’s characteristic of men of his time, but he seems to be even more productive than some of his contemporaries. He was a prolific writer, producing numerous books, columns for Christianity Today and other outlets, and academic projects. He was also an in-demand speaker and lecturer. If you think of your favorite Christian institution, it is likely he spoke, lectured, or even taught there. Henry was also a movement builder. He helped launch and then run CT. He was tasked by Billy Graham to organize multiple interdenominational, worldwide gatherings. He helped found Fuller Seminary, Evangelical Theological Society, Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, and other institutions. He was often interviewed in mainstream media outlets.
None of these projects is light or easy. Yet, Henry was steadfast in completing them. Today, one might look at the output of Carl Henry’s life and think that perhaps he worked too hard, was gone from his family too much, and should have had better rhythms of rest. There is no doubt, I’m sure, he would have heard that criticism and accepted it. That generation was one that might have been prone to workaholism.
Yet I also wonder if Henry’s busy life is a bit of a rebuke to our own time, where often it seems like the conversations about rest swing the other way, and a full life is almost always considered a bad thing. This is a delicate conversation, of course, because humans are finite creatures. Our theology tells us that we are not God and that rest is a form of worship, trusting that God will continue to “uphold all things by the word of his power” while we sleep (Hebrews 1:3). A great book on this is You Are Only Human by the terrific theologian Kelly Kapic.
Still, we must remember that rest, in the order of creation, comes after work. Six days of work and one day of rest. Work is seen in Genesis as a good gift of God, only made more frustrating by the fall. The work itself—meaningful, purposeful, intentional work—really matters. The Bible commends a long, full life devoted to a calling. I think of Paul’s encouragement at the end of 1 Corinthians 15 that “your labor is not in vain.” Labor is good. Labor put forward in light of Jesus’ resurrection is even more meaningful. Paul also said in that chapter that he worked harder than his peers. The writer of Ecclesiastes says that whatever our hands find to do should be done “with our might (Ecclesiastes 9:10.”
I remember hearing pastor Matt Chandler say once, to a group of men (but this could easily apply to women), that to lie our heads down on the pillow at night and feel exhausted is a good thing. There is a difference between a frustrated “sick of this mess” type of fatigue and what my dad used to call “A good tired.” I feel, after a productive day of work, both a sense of accomplishment and weariness. We should not be ashamed of this, for having lives filled with projects and deadlines and more work than we can accomplish in a day.
Can hard work become idolatrous? Yes. For men, often the work can be a sort of fig leaf to hide from familial responsibility. Work, when it’s in the center of our giftedness, can be so intoxicating that it can be hard to break away from. We can work ourselves to the point where we are not stewarding our bodies. All these things are warning signs that our vocation has supplanted the giver of work as the object of our worship.
And yet, I want to say to myself and to anyone reading not to be ashamed of long days, of some nights, and of a life spent at the plow. I’m grateful Carl Henry devoted himself fully to his calling because I, a couple of generations later, am a grateful recipient of his work. He put himself into things that last. I, by the grace of God, pray the same will be said of my life.
Do rest appropriately. We are not machines. But don’t despise hard work. It’s a good gift from a good God.
Updates:
Speaking of work, here are a few things I’ve got going:
I’m preaching in the chapel at Texas Baptist College this Wednesday and in the chapel at Union University on March 27th.
I turned in a long chapter on co-belligerence for a new volume on Baptist social ethics edited by Nathan Finn and Jason Thacker for B&H.
I’m going to write, this summer, an Advent project for Moody on the prophecies of Jesus’ birth.
I’ve also been invited to contribute to two study Bible projects, one for Crossway and one for Thomas Nelson.
My book with B&H: Biblical Wisdom for Everyday Life will be available in May. In this, I try to apply Scriptural wisdom to questions folks have about things like marijuana usage, IVF, cohabitation, gambling, and other topics.
