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Everybody has a list of favorite movies.

I've already mentioned Dead Poets Society as high on my list. And to be high on my list means I think it's worth seeing again and again and again. If you'll pardon the inappropriate analogy, "For those who know it best seem hungering and thirsting to hear it like the rest."

It's like I used to tell preaching students, "If it's not worth preaching twice, it's not worth preaching once."

Of course, I also used to say, "If people say they've heard it before, you respond, 'But I've got to keep preaching it until it sinks in.' "

That's why the church spends so much time on love.

Anyway, I went to see Easy Rider eleven times. After about the seventh time, I bought a Honda 50, put on a fringed leather jacket and penny loafers, and roared down Route 115 at speeds approaching 35 miles per hour while singing, "Born to be wild!"

Is it any wonder I know so much about eighth graders?

I keep watching Dr. Zhivago because of Julie Christie and An Officer and a Gentlemen for all the wrong reasons.

Animal House and A Fish Called Wanda are always good for a laugh.

It's a Wonderful Life, Mary Poppins, Rocky, and Chariots of Fire are necessary antidotes for Amadeus, Apocalypse Now, Platoon, and Full Metal Jacket.

Titanic is a buoyant love story that ends up giving me a sinking feeling, but Brother Sun Sister Moon, Glory, Dances with Wolves, and Good Morning, Vietnam can usually fix the leaks.

And then there are those Disney movies like Lady and the Tramp, 101 Dalmatians, Aladdin, The Lion King, and so many others.

But my favorite movie of all time remains Walt Disney's first feature length animation, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, which was released in 1937.

I remain enchanted by Snow White, the wicked queen and her magic mirror, the huntsman who begs forgiveness for even entertaining the evil intent of the queen, the dwarf's cottage, the prince, Grumpy, Dopey, Sleepy, Bashful, and all the rest.

But the most memorable scene for me will always be when those seven dwarfs head off to work in the mines singing, "Just whistle while you work ... Hum a merry tune. It won't take long where there's a song to help you set the pace ... Just whistle while you work."

I've always been struck by the happy work ethic of the dwarfs.

No wonder it's called a fairy tale.

But if you think labor relations are bad today, consider what Paul faced with Thessalonian Christians. Expecting Jesus to come back at any moment, even faithful folks turned into occupational no-shows.

Now isn't that the best excuse that you've ever heard for baggin' it?

"Uh, I can't go to work this week because, uh, Jesus is coming back."

Though fully capable of carrying their weight in the marketplace, Thessalonian Christians just decided to live off the labor of others, sit back, and wait for Jesus.

"Uh, you work and take care of me because I'm busy, uh, hanging around and waiting for Jesus to show up."

Paul was not amused. "Living in idleness," he insisted, is "not in accord with the tradition that you received from us." He went on, "You know you ought to imitate us. We were not idle when we were with you. We did not eat anyone's bread without paying, but with toil and labor we worked night and day." And then the apostle outlines his Thessalonian Welfare Reform Act: "Anyone unwilling to work should not eat."

In other words, while Paul thought it was okay to anticipate the second coming, he didn't afford that as rationalization for becoming couch potatoes.

I like Clarence Jordan's paraphrase of this text in The Cotton Patch Version of Paul's Epistles (1968):

While we were with you, we didn't buck out of the harness nor freeload on anybody. Instead, in hard labor and sweat we worked far into the night so as not to be a burden on any of you ... For even while we were with you, we kept insisting that if a man were unwilling to work, he shouldn't come for chow. Now we hear that some there are not pulling their load ... We are both ordering and urging those guys to quietly go to work and earn their own bread.


And you thought Rush Limbaugh and Jim Quinn were tough!

Paul was not talking about the disabled or legitimately unemployed. And Paul was not giving leverage to those text-twisting Christians who would use his condemnation of idleness as an excuse to shirk the social responsibilities of the gospel. God knows, as does every person who has bothered to read the Bible, that the haves are expected to pray and work to meet the needs of the have nots.

Certainly and without any quarter for confusion, Jesus made our social responsibilities clear in Matthew 25: "As you do it for others, you do it for me. As you don't do it for others, you don't do it for me."

And for folks concerned about their report cards when the Teacher comes back, that's the difference between sheep and goats. Selflessness gets an A. Selfishness gets a trip to a hot time in summer school.

Paul's Thessalonian Welfare Reform Act is aimed at those who do "not wish to work." That's the literal translation of 2 Thessalonians 3:10. The emphasis is on those who are unwilling or who do not wish to work. The word is qelw which connotes the emotional dynamics of aspiration, intention, and desire. Hence, Paul was not talking about the people unable to work who our Lord commanded to be objects of our benevolence, but rather his rebuke was reserved for people who won't pitch in and do their fair share.

John Calvin commented, "Paul censures those lazy drones who lived by the seat of others, while they contribute no service in common for aiding the human race."

Work within a Christian context (cf. Romans 12 and 1 Corinthians 12) includes an attitude of vocation instead of labor, an availability to God, an accountability before God, and activity for God.

Christians whistle while they work because they have an attitude about work as vocation rather than labor. It's called beruf in German which means "a calling" or, as Luther said, "service to God." Simply, Christians see their work as given to them by God as a way to praise and honor him. Or as Paul wrote to the Colossians, "Whatever your task, work heartily, as serving the Lord and not men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward" (3:23-24 RSV).

It's always good to know your employer.

Or as the preacher said to the woman who asked how he expected to please all of the people in the church, "I'm only trying to please One."

Christians whistle while they work because they are available to God. Christians pray and work to be his in all things at all times. Christians are committed to being who he wants them to be, saying what he wants them to say, doing what he wants them to do, and going where he wants them to go. Or as Jerry Kirk and Ron Rand like to say:

I am but one person,
but I am one!

I cannot do everything,
but I can do something!

What I can contribute,
I should ... and I will!


Christians whistle while they work because they are accountable before God. And it's more than a "He knows if you've been sleeping ... He knows when you're awake" thing. What we think, say, and do is an expression of what we believe and what we believe determines our ultimate destiny. Faith is expressed through works. Read James. Read the Sermon on the Mount! Read the Bible!

Hank Aaron had a habit of going to the plate with the trademark label on the bat turned down. When a teammate advised Aaron that most players make sure the bat is held so they can see the label, Hammering Hank said, "I don't go up there to read."

Christians walk the talk. Christians are active for God. Christians enflesh their confession.

Thom Hickling, founder of Expression and one of the most creative Christian thinkers in my experience, recently told me about John.

John has wild hair. He wears t-shirts with holes in them, jeans, and no shoes. Though a brilliant college student, he is obviously a little eccentric and dresses like that every day.

Across the street from his college is a very conservative -- let's say stuffy -- church. While they want to develop a college ministry, they aren't sure how to go about it.

John shows up in worship one Sunday. He walks in with his typical t-shirt with holes in it, jeans, no shoes, and wild hair. The service has already started, the ushers are already seated, and John can't find a seat. So he starts walking up and down the aisles. Startled by his appearance, everybody is getting a little uncomfortable but nobody makes room for him. Finally, he just squats on the chancel steps.

While that's fairly typical behavior on campus, it has never happened in this particular church before.

People are really getting uptight, whispers and tension fill the air, and the pastor is thinking about what to do.

But before the pastor says anything, an old deacon starts walking toward John. He's in his late eighties and impeccably dressed -- beautifully groomed silver-gray hair. He is a godly man -- elegant, dignified, and courtly.

As he walks toward John with a cane, people start saying to themselves, "Well, you can't blame him for what he's going to do. How can you expect a man like him to understand some college kid sitting on the floor?"

It seems to take forever for the old man to reach the young boy. You can hear a pin drop. Everybody is holding his breath. Even the pastor has stopped preaching. Everybody is watching to see what will happen.

The old man reaches John, drops his cane, lowers himself with great difficulty, sits next to the boy, and says, "Let's worship God together."

The pastor looks at the old man and John, looks at the people, and says, "You'll probably forget what I've been preaching, but you'll never forget what you are seeing."

Then there was Willie Dixon.

Willie Dixon lived in a small town. A neighbor's house caught on fire. The house belonged to an older woman. Though she escaped, her orphaned grandson was trapped on the second floor. Dixon climbed up an iron pipe on the side of the house. He entered through a window on the second floor, located the little boy, and started back down.

But by the time he started back down, the iron pipe had become red hot. Though his hands blistered, burned, and bled, he made it down with the boy.

Shortly after the fire, the boy's grandmother died.

Two people volunteered to adopt the boy. One was a wealthy man. The other was Willie Dixon.

As the two appeared before the judge, the wealthy man went on and on and on about how he had the wherewithal to take good care of the boy. Willie Dixon just showed his hands to the judge and was granted custody of the boy.

Those are fairy tales.

Those are the stories of Christians who whistle while they work.

So, "Hi! Ho! Hi! Ho! It's off to work we go!"