See him work with calloused hands,
Two scraped knuckles and a blackened thumb.
He works with speed and competence,
His work is worship, not competition If you stand close and listen,
You can hear him sing the Psalms.
At other times, he recites the Law,
He is direct in confrontation and in praise. Of those that work with and under him,
He enjoys the odd job site joke.
But he doesn’t swear or gossip,
When he speaks, it’s with measured words,
Spoken at opportune time. His back is slightly hunched from long labor,
Dust coats his clothes, hair, and beard.
His forearms look carved from stone,
With calves corded like olive trees. But, this man knows how to rest,
When work is done, he wipes off the dust.
He travels home in the quiet evening,
And eats dinner with his mother and siblings. On the Sabbath, He stays close to home,
And participates in the village synagogue,
Often teaching, “heaven is near.” On Sunday, he returns to work,
Building the kingdom here on earth.