The Man From Heaven

Dad was a carpenter. He made a living with his hand-tools and he took a great deal of pride in the work that he did. From fixing broken rocking chairs to building pole barns he did it all with his hand-tools. When I was a little boy Dad set up a workshop in our little one-car garage. Sometimes after supper he would go out to the garage to build or fix something. Mom would encourage me to follow him so I could watch and learn.

One of the tools Dad often used was his handsaw. He had a couple different ones and he always kept them sharp. I remember him sitting at the kitchen table and filing each tooth. The sound of that little file being drawn across the teeth of the saw made a sound that sent shivers up Mom’s back. She couldn’t help shrieking like the girl that she was and Dad would laugh! Us kids would shriek with Mom, then laugh with Dad.

Anyway…out in the garage, Dad would place the board across a low bench and take his pencil from behind his ear. Then, with his T-square, he’d make a big mark on the board. With one knee up on the board, Dad would make those first, light strokes with the saw to start the cut. And then I would look up at his face, because I knew that he’d draw that saw back and just as he plunged it down, he would make a face like this.

Dad was so intent on his mark and making those long, rhythmic strokes that he would make that face the whole time he was sawing. I can still see his perfect, brilliant teeth and the intensity in his eyes. And then, when the end of the board dropped off, his face would relax. And I would feel my face relax too. Because without thinking about it and without even trying, as I looked at his face and as I watched him work, I made the same face he did. It was only natural, kind of a spontaneous reaction. And it felt good!

Another important tool for a carpenter is his hammer. Dad would slip his 16-ounce hammer into the loop on his jeans, then tie on his nail apron behind his back and put a big fist-full of dark, shiny nails in one of the pockets. When Dad drove a nail he would tap it one time to make it stand up. Then he would hit that nail hard three or four times and drive it down flush. That hammer made a big noise in our little garage and every time he hit the nail I would blink. My Dad never blinked. Sometimes I would hold my eyelids open with my fingers and look right into his bright blue eyes. And he never blinked.

I hardly ever use my handsaw and I’ve certainly never sharpened it. And I don’t drive many nails, but I can still be just like him. Because Dad was determined, with his occupation and with everything else that he was, to follow Jesus Christ. To learn from him and be like him. And when you follow him to his workshop; when you look into his face and watch him work you can’t help but admire and imitate him. That’s what love does.

As was the earthly man, so are those who are of the earth; and as is the man from heaven, so also are those who are of heaven. And just as we have borne the likeness of the earthly man, so shall we bear the likeness of the man from heaven. 1Corinthians 15:48-49 NIV