The power of the Word...

Story time, so bear with...

If I haven't mentioned it before I work in a Quality position at a manufacturing plant. We stamp, weld and laser trim parts as well as manufacture the dies that can make the parts. Sometimes we make the die and run the parts; sometimes one or the other.

I've been there a little over six years having started out as a temp after a job didn't work out. Working for temp wages running the presses and now in the Quality department, there's very little I haven't done. It's also the longest, by double the amount, I've ever worked anywhere.

Over time, as my faith walk has deepened and I've gained some confidence in it, I find myself taking on the role of being the voice from the people on the floor. The social work (and Jesus' centered faith walk) has helped me to realize that everything in life come down to power - those who have it, those who don't. More significantly, it's about realizing Who has the power and how that power can be used in the world in which we live.

So I've been involved in the welding department now for several months, working with a weld tech who has all the appearances of a punk rocker (or gamer). Tatoos, piercings, peculiar mannerisms. Yet he's smart. Having come in as a temp several years ago as well he has learned well the mechanics of making the welders hum.

It's been fun to watch him grow and develop and gain a modicum of confidence more than he had when he came in the door. Lately, however, a new person in upper management has taken a strong dislike to him. For those of us who know and work with him, quirks and all we find him to be on the road to improvement. He works hard, puts in the hours, cares and, with some guidance, does what is needed.

But for some people, appearance is everything and nothing will shake that perception - especially when that perception comes from that barricade that separates "upstairs" from "the floor". I find myself bridging that gap. Without the floor, the upstairs make an organization top heavy and it teeters and sways until it blows over. Some days, it seems we're going to blow over.

Most of our successes and improvements on the floor comes from the operators who know the products and the processes. They often speak up but it falls on deaf ears. Over the past few years I've come to realize that sometimes the best operators are the ones who have little voice - they can't speak the language, they look funny, they live in fear of being fired, they are just plain strange. However, on more than a few occasions I have found myself praising the efforts of a few individuals who, because of these quirks, may have otherwise found themselves out of a job.

When you compliment someone and tell them they do a good job and that they have value, not only do they do better work but their countenance actually changes. I've seen it over and over again.

Well, this past week, rumor had it that this weld tech was going to be fired and that I was the backup plan to run the department. Now I understand the processes and how it works but the mechanics of it? We'd be sunk. Even piecing together the knowledge of a half dozen people could not replace what this guy does.

So I talked to my boss. I would be pulled out from under him without his having had any knowledge of the move. He was pissed; I was pissed. More than a few people expressed serious concern about losing him.

For about half an hour my boss and I talked. And the air was somber. I was willing to be fired before making that move. A six month project, sure. Full time, not in the plans.

So I went back to my computer and stared at it for about forty minutes. I couldn't move. Thoughts of finding another job were at the forefront. But as the minutes dragged on I had the realization that I could not allow this to happen without saying something. I couldn't live with myself.

Now it wasn't really about me. I was upset about the unjust treatment of this guy toward him. I was upset that such a move was being made with no plan B and no communication to anyone else. It was as if his distaste for him, that emotional turmoil, was enough to drive such an irrational decision. I had visions of the company sliding further behind.

So I marched up to his office. No anger, no malice, just serious concern. I asked him if the rumor was true; he verified that it was. I told him flat out I thought it was a bad move. I spoke more from the point of view of "the company" but also stood up for the weld tech and, acknowleding his quirks, praised his skills and that no one in the shop knows what he knows. He has that depth of experience that is irreplaceable.

I let him know that it was his decision. He said that he would consider it because he respected me. That was a high compliment, one I do not take lightly.

So the next morning, the weld tech proceeded to inform me that he was still employed and that he had bought some time because I (and another, I later found out) spoke up for him. The power of the Word.

Not only was he glowing, others on the floor were also glowing when they found out. The fact that someone stuck up for him - goofy as he is, he is well liked - spoke volumes. It saved him his job; it was also a good move in terms of keep the company out of trouble.

It's up to him now. I hold no illusions that the opinions of him are still the same. The move is purely a business move. But by speaking up, life changed for many people involved.

My boss and another manager in the department were genuinely blown away but the turn of events. They were both going to let it just happen as it usually does without saying a word. Though I contemplated it for a while, in the end there was no need to seek advice, ask permission or worry about going over someone's head. I felt led to do it.

Now I'm usually pretty easy going and don't try and rock the boat but there are two things that get me going: lying to customers and when "my people" are treated unjustly. It is then that I become vocal.

Let you think I think it was completely selfless, please realize that the self-preservation aspect was present: I did not want the job that would have befallen me. It would have been a deadend move (and the hours would move to seven days a week, on call 24-7). Been there, done that; don't want to do it again.

What's the point? This whole idea of "marketplace ministry" (a phrase I can't stand; it sounds so very MLM) is too slick, too choreographed, too intentional. Our intention should not be to try and "save the world" but to love those who are in it, whether they be our friends or our "enemies" (even though, in essence, our enemies are still our neighbors). The ministry should not be "win souls for Christ" in the sense of "leading them to the Lord" like a trophy or racking up salvation points. The saving is up to God.

Our ministry is to be a vessel, to be a light, to allow the Word to shine through us, to Love. I'm reminded of the word of Jeremiah:

"He pled the cause of the afflicted and needy; Then it was well. Is not that what it means to know Me?" Declares the LORD." (22:16)

The atmosphere was changed that day. It wasn't really "me" but the power of my actions. I didn't preach at him, quote scripture or tell him about Jesus. I simply "pled the cause of the afflicted and the needy."

Love is the hardest thing in the world because it is a choice and it requires stepping out of self for the cause of another.

This thing is real.