Work isn’t often a topic that pops up on a God blog. For a place where most of us spend the majority of our time, it’s not a place we often think of Him at all. Religion is a private affair, and has no place in the office. This has bothered me for a while.
I love what I do. I’m in Children’s book production, which (in short) means I’m the one who gets books printed. I know the approximate price of adding glitter to a cover or using a special paper. I brainstorm with the editor and designer over what works best for each title. I talk to the printers to get the best quality book for our budget.
I know God was in my career path from the beginning, because I had no clue what I wanted to do in publishing—only that I wanted make books. It had to be divine intervention to fall into Production “by chance.” Ten years later and I’m still here, and still 100% into what I do.
But I wasn’t using that gift for His sake, and over time felt more and more weird about it.
I wasn’t necessarily job searching. I was happy enough where I was, waiting for that big promotion (that probably wasn’t happening). I even ignored that one job listing that required my exact experience, which seemed to be open forever. Until I realized it was in Christian books.
I imagine there was Heavenly rejoicing, a collective sigh of relief when God and His angels could finally push me along after I’d applied. Because everything after that moment happened so quickly. In a mere week, I had an interview. In another three days, I had an offer.
Not only was the position in Christian books, but Children’s books—my pride and joy. It’s the same business. I still quote books, and requote books, and plead with printers to improve ship dates. But it’s for Him. Piled on my desk, I have board books retelling Bible stories. Picture books declaring the love of Jesus. Children’s first devotionals. One day, I had this massive tome on my desk: a 600-page, hardcover, Bible graphic novel. This thing is a brick. It looks epic. Someone passed by, glanced at it, and said, “If this was around when I was a kid, maybe I’d still be going to church.”
It made me sad, but also a little hopeful. The Bible isn’t this old, dry book you’re forced to read in Sunday School. It’s awesome. And we’ll keep on publishing different versions of the same Bible stories, because each kid is receptive in a different way. Maybe someone is drawn to that graphic novel. Maybe someone else needs a bullet-pointed introduction. I pray that someone, somewhere, who maybe isn’t convinced about this God thing, sees this cool-looking book and and starts thumbing through it. Maybe this kid starts to think that God is pretty cool after all.
I get to be a part of that. Books help define me. I’m blessed to have been dropped into a field where I can create them. And to create books about God? I’m the one who cries just holding a Bible. The unchanging, eternal Word. The literal words of God on paper, beautifully bound and maybe gilted in gold, with a ribbon marker or two, whether it’s cased in leather or cloth or sheepskin…
Once, I illegally snapped a photo of the Gutenberg that’s on display at the New York Public Library (no flash, I promise).
Later, my friend asked, “Is that like visiting Mecca for you?”
Yes. Yes, it is.
Or, you know, Jerusalem.
