It had been a very enjoyable morning; a retic controller installed, (another little sideline I keep afloat), an encouraging coffee with another pastor/author and now I was on my way to install a diesel heater for a client at their home. It was a spectacular winter day and I was almost high on the warm sunny vibes.

Then it all got a bit crazy. 

While having coffee with my friend I noticed several missed phone calls, so I began returning them in my car on the way to the job. While doing so Danelle rang, but I declined her call as I was already on the phone to a client. Then she rang again. Two calls in 2 minutes is a concern. Given our life over the last two years I tend to be a little more alert for potential ‘emergencies’. So I quickly finished the call with my client and called her back, hoping it was nothing important.

‘Your 11.00 caravan is here. Says she has booked a diesel heater with you?’ It was said as a question as she knew I was on my way to a different job. In the bigger scheme of things this really was not that important, but it suddenly jarred me out of my winter bliss. 

’Oh…’ I replied feeling a little bit sick, ‘Just check their name,’ I said slowly, wondering if maybe I had got it wrong and this was a job I was supposed to do at home.

‘Sally,’ Danelle said. ‘She has a text from you saying to come today. Do you remember?’ 

‘Ah… nope…’ My gut churned…

Given the deluge of phone calls that seems to hit at this time of year I had to accept that this one had got past my fairly rudimentary admin processes and I was now faced with a couple who had driven from Rockingham to have a heater installed on their way north, as well as a job I was driving to already about an hour from home. What to do.

Plan A is Don’t panic. Seriously – it’’s not life and death. It’s a stuff up on my part, but not the end of the earth.

‘Ok – that’s a bummer,’ I said somewhat understating things. ‘Can you put Sally on and I will talk with her.’

Danelle put Sally on the phone. ‘Do you remember we spoke and you said xyxz…’ As she talked it all faded into oblivion as I realised In had no memory whatsoever of the phone call – but clearly a string of text messages showing it had taken place. Sally sounded frustrated and a little stressed. I couldn’t blame her.

‘Ok Sally, here’s the plan. I have stuffed up, so I will go and do this job, then I will come to you at your campsite and make sure your heater is fitted before evening. It’s my mistake and I will fix it for you. Is that ok?’

‘I suppose so. And what about weighing the caravan? You said you would do that too?’

Did I?… Bugger…

‘Ah, yep, I can do that too…’ I said, while thinking ‘why did I agree to that?!’  I was seeing my afternoon suddenly blow out to an 8pm finish if all went well. “Why don’t you go and have some lunch, I will do this first job and then I will come and see you at your campsite.” 

It was not what I needed. A stunning Perth winter day suddenly became a stressful time of wondering how I was ever going to pull this off. Dinner with the local blokes at 6.00pm looked like it was now out of the question.

With Sally off for lunch I arrived at the first job, a massive off-road van, which is always nice because the ground clearance is enormous and it makes the job much faster. After a chat with the client I got cracking on the job and realised before long I was sweating, because I was doing everything at double speed – also a sure way to make a mistake. However by some measure of fortune I managed to get everything done in double time and working perfectly – a new PB for time taken to install! I knocked on the door after just over an hour to show the owner the finished product. She was happy, so I set off for the Yanchep national park to start on job number 2. I even had time to drop home for a bit to eat and to gather my gear for this next one. 

This is where my wife shines. ‘What do you need? What can I do?’

‘ A sandwich and a glass of water would be awesome,’ I replied. I felt a little lighter given the way the first job had fallen into place so easily.

I breathed out. “It’s ok… you may even get to dinner…” I told myself.

I arrived at the park right behind my client who was also driving in from their lunch at the cafe. I meandered around to their campsite. 

This one however, didn’t look so much fun. A low to the ground ‘on-road’ van – and the ‘ground’ was dirt… oh well… It was 2.30pm and I knew I’d be out of there by 6 at the latest. I took a deep breath and just decided to relax and enjoy the time – even if I would have rather been at the beach.

I began by walking thru the job with Sally. With massive space under the bed I presumed we’d be installing the diesel heater there.

‘Narp’ said Sally strongly. ‘I want it here.’ 

I peered into the smallest, most inaccessible area of storage in the whole van… ‘Ok… I can do that,’ I chirped, trying to sound positive, while also realising I was going to be slithering on my back for the afternoon as the space was right behind the two wheels. 

‘And what about the fuel tank?’ Sally asked.

I had seen a large front boot and that is usually where they go. ‘Front boot is perfect,’ I said.

‘Narp’ said Sally again sharply. I was starting to not like her.

‘Oh, why’s that?’ I asked.

‘It’s full. No room,’ she barked. 

‘Ok where were you hoping?’ I asked. I figured she had already got a plan for this too. She pointed to a shallow space on the rear bumper where you would struggle fit a clipboard, let alone a fuel tank.

‘Norm put his here,’ she said. ‘I can show you a photo.’

‘Ok, I’d need some brackets for that and I don’t have any with me.’ I could have driven home if necessary, but I could already tell that there was no way it would fit.

Sally scrolled her phone looking for Davo’s photo of his tank. She was still scrolling five minutes later and I had begun assembling the heater, while sitting on her step. 

We weren’t off to a flying start. I had forgotten them, and now I was feeling like I may end up barking back at Sally if I wasn’t careful.

It was that moment where I stopped and recognised that this could go south if I allowed myself to dislike her, OR it could be an opportunity to smile, engage her and try to win her over. She had irked me with her sharpness, but it’s these ‘pause’ moments that can actually turn a job from chore to pleasure. The pause/pray/startover approach allows for a conscious attitude shift and then a choice to speak kindly and go the extra mile. It’s the ‘Jesus’ stuff’ we talk about translated into simple action.

So I squeezed myself into a tiny cavity under the table and tried to make the heater fit.  Once I’d drilled the first hole I slid on my back along the ground all the way up to begin tying all the parts down. I was dirty, my face was almost pressed against the floor and I had only just begun.

Fortunately Barry (Sally’s husband) had come to my rescue and agreed that the front boot would actually be a good place to put the fuel tank. Sally shook her head as if to say ‘well – it’s on you if it doesn’t work!’ Barry smiled and winked at me.

The longer I hung around the more I realised Sally just had a general sharp edge to her voice and she wasn’t actually being difficult or cantankerous. This was just how she spoke. I had misread her initial conversation.

As I worked we got into some conversation. We chatted about our previous jobs, the cost of housing, the level of immigration into WA and a few other random topics. Sally was starting to loosen up and Barry was joining in too. 

It wasn’t an arduous job, but it was tricky and I needed to concentrate to get a good end result. By 5.15pm I had got it up and running much to Sally’s delight, who was now crowing about what a neat job it was and how they ‘never used that space for anything anyway’. I wanted to say ‘I know – that’s because you need to be 5 years old to be able to squeeze in there!’

As I began to pack up Sally offered me a beer. ‘Thanks but I’ve given them up’, I replied. Barry grunted that he maybe ought to consider that too.

As I cleaned up and vacuumed it felt like we were almost friends. What had begun with my admin stuff up and what I had perceived as an icy welcome from Sally was now warm and gracious. As I drove home I was reflecting on the simple impact of choosing to pause and stay kind when the first few interactions left me wanting to keep my distance and just do the job as quickly as possible. 

There is no rocket science in this – but this is some of what ‘faith in the workplace’ looks like.

That evening a text message came in from Sally, ‘loving the new heater Andrew – we are so warm!’ 

I think I made a new friend…

We rescheduled the caravan weigh to the following day to avoid making them hitch up and move while in the caravan park. They got to relax and I made it home to dinner with the Yanchep blokes. 

The next morning I rocked up to weigh them at 8.15am as Sally instructed, only to wait for 30 minutes for them to arrive… Ordinarily I’d be a bit peeved at waiting half an hour to do a half hour job, but given I had completely forgotten Sally the previous day I felt that maybe I should just smile and accept that sometimes we all get it a little bit wrong.

It was 2007 when I moved from a very white collar, desk and laptop, type job, into a hard grinding trade environment as I started an irrigation and landscaping business. It was unfamiliar territory and it took me a while to get my bearings.

My soft pastor hands came home with knuckles skinned and covered in green irrigation glue, but at the same time I became conscious of the mass of people in our churches who work in these jobs, but are often unsure of what it looks like to live faithfully in that space.

My new book, Hi-Vis Faith, was birthed out of my concern for tradies and service workers, both men and women, who want to follow Jesus faithfully in their workplace, but who don’t connect easily with much of the current crop of books – many of which are excellent – just not speaking their language.

So, “Hi-Vis” is a description of the type of workers who will find this book most valuable—not a term to describe the kind of missional presence a worker should have while on the job. In fact I suggest “low-vis” as usually more appropriate for a secular, trade environment. There are few building sites that appreciate an evangelistic zealot on the warpath, but a quiet, faithful presence that consistently demonstrates the life of faith and answers questions with gentleness and respect is almost always appreciated.

My hope is that our tradies and service workers will have a valuable resource that is easy to read and theologically accessible, while offering some very practical stories and insight on how the life of faith takes shape in tough and sometimes toxic work environments. 

I have intentionally asked my friends who work in relatively unseen roles to contribute with their description of how they live their faith in the workplace.

Rob, the local mechanic writes of what it looks like to do auto work with integrity and kindness. Dave writes of recovering his childhood faith and now figuring out what shape that takes in a building environment. Ian writes of seeking a quiet retired life, only to find himself immersed in the life of a retirement village – and loving it. My favourite is Jen, who writes of her work, as a home schooling mum and part time belly dance teacher. It’s a beautiful story of good work done under the radar – as so much trade and service work is.

The book is available on Amazon and the audiobook, read by me is on Spotify and soon to be on audible. The movie is… Well there is no movie yet, but one of the contributors, Yanchep local, Matt just may decide one day to follow the life of some of our often unseen but faithful people who live their faith daily without any applause or recognition 🙂

The subtitle of the book ‘because ordinary work is sacred ground‘, is probably a little understated, but it’s true nevertheless. Wherever you find yourself there you are. That is the space God has placed you.

This morning I drove down to Morley to install a diesel heater for someone who couldn’t bring their van to me. The van was parked on a tarp—on grass and it has been raining, so there were large puddles of water everywhere. Not ideal. I asked if we could move it onto the driveway. That meant driving the client’s old GQ patrol and reversing into a nearly impossible hitch up situation. And… it was an old van and very low to the ground which meant nearly scraping your face on the floor as you slid along on the damp concrete minus the creeper because it just wouldn’t fit.

I could feel my ire rising with every moment spent “getting ready to work” rather than actually doing the job. And then the “other voice” blew in my ear to chill out, smile and relax. Simple enough, but it would have been easy to allow my frustration to spill over onto the young mum who was at home to meet me.

I was conscious of my change of attitude—conscious that I walked in already a little frazzled because of the heavy rain and the thought of enduring a soaking in a place a long way from home. In the end it didn’t rain, the job went well and I was able to shift my headspace to make it enjoyable for the client rather than allowing her to hear the brunt of my Monday morning blues.

Living faith in the workplace isn’t sexy or flashy. There’s no prizes for being a decent human being. But sometimes that’s all it takes to be different – to recognise the sacred ground that is ordinary work and to step up rather than away.

I set the book at $25.00 but for some reason it’s now $29.38 – not sure why – and the hardcopy version is some crazy amount ($100 last I checked!)