When we look at the work of others — whatever the work (as long as it something which can do others good) — we are looking upon a gift of God. The people at the store, those who tend to the electrical wires, those who sew clothes, make medicine, play instruments, tell stories, grow corn, fly planes, and so on — all of this great busy industry is itself a blessing from God:
Recognizing the great truth of the solidarity of humanity, that each person is part of the whole, that the whole is incomplete in the incompleteness of any, it is evident that all the great and increasing needs of humanity for this life are provided for by God in the gifts He has bestowed, to every man severally as He will, His will ever being the well-being and happiness of the creature. Every ability to do something which will be for the support of the worker, and at the same time contribute to the legitimate needs of others, is a Divine gift, a Divine calling.
Capacity for brain work, dexterity of fingers, are each and in every variety of application, Divinely bestowed. To dig—whether with spade, or plough, or shaft and machinery for metals—is a calling of God. To construct with wood, or stone, or iron, for permanence or locomotion, is a Divine gift. To see a vision and paint it, to hear music and translate it, to catch glimpses of truth and embody them in form poetic, these and all the thousands of various gifts bestowed upon men are from God.
On every individual some gift is bestowed, save perchance upon those who, in these days of humanity’s sin and sorrow, are from their birth limited in their powers. Not only the preacher, but every man, has a calling of God, and the duty of each man to God, to the community, to himself, is to find that calling, and therein to abide.
George Campbell Morgan. “Discipleship.” Now certainly there are those who use this great wonder of work for evil ends. But the misuse of the good does not deny the good exists. Imagine all the people without farmers and shoe makers and engineers. Look at a place where society and work has broken down — like a refugee camp. What a misery!
And so I can say without any irony, Thank God for the garbage man!