Dethroning the Idol
Busyness is an illness of the spirit.
—Eugene Peterson
I come from a long line of hard workers—sheet metal
workers, farmers, people for whom work is an estimable
thing, something to respect and be grateful for. I got my first
summer job when I was eleven. I rode my bike two miles to
the windsurfer shop down by the marina in South Haven,
and while the owner and his friends—all in their twenties—
slept off hangovers and ran out to the beach at a moment’s
notice if the wind piped up, I decorated the shop’s window
displays and rearranged the stickers and sunglasses.
And I went to one of those high schools where much
was expected of us—AP classes and academic scholarships
to good colleges, high test scores, loads of extracurriculars
rounding out our applications. While I was in high school, I
was also volunteering several days a week and a few nights
a t my church, too—devoted to the high school ministry,
teaching Sunday school to grade school kids. And I worked
at the Gap, and at Boloney’s, a much-loved deli near my