no menial jobs

There were no menial jobs in God’s tabernacle. 

This morning in 1 Chronicles 9:30-31, I read,” But some of the priests took care of mixing the spices. A Levite named Mattithiah, the firstborn son of Shallum the Korahite, was entrusted with the responsibility for baking the offering bread.” Other Levites cleaned and counted utensils, or guarded doors and gates. Menial jobs, done in service to those who came to worship.

Note the words, though. Mattihiah was “entrusted with the responsibility” of baking bread. I think when wives got their servants, one of the first things they delegated was baking the bread. I’m not sure anyone ever fought for the honor.

But bread is a blessing. I remember being in the field one time in the same forward operating base with a bakery unit. I remember the wonderful smell of the ovens, which made me homesick. I remember the time they gave me a whole loaf, fresh from the oven, for myself. Compared to the C Rations we were eating, it tasted like cake.

Mattihiah’s bread was used in the temple, which made it even more of a blessing. Maybe he got to teach or preach sometimes too, but it doesn’t say, so I gather that his main function was bread. But it was an important job, enough so to be mentioned specifically.

There are a lot of jobs like that in churches, jobs like custodial work or nursery attendant or setting up chairs and tables. There are a lot of roles like that in life, too, things like bagging groceries or greeting at the Walmart doors. And in families and relationships, someone needs to prepare food, do laundry, sweep the garage. 

When I think of calling, I think of the preacher, honored for his special training. I think of counselors and evangelists, on the front lines in the war with evil. Am I wrong to give those people a higher place than the ones who shovel snow? I think maybe I am.

I need to value every act of service. And not just in others. I need to do them too, even the most lowly. That’s harder for me.