skills – sethlewis.ie

My Old, Obsolete Knowledge

The museum had radios from the 1920’s and an original Edison record player. They had rotary phones with a working switchboard, and an early TV camera hooked up to an old TV. After that came the room full of old computers—and that’s where the experience changed, for me. I recognised them. I remember one of them sitting on the desk when I was growing up. I know how to put the floppy disks in those slots, and flip down the lock. The ATARI game system in the corner—the one my kids thought was so ancient—was the one I used to play on. I can show you how to blow on the cartridges to keep them working, if you want me to. But why would you?

Across from the ATARI, there were mobile phone models that I used to own displayed in a glass case. The stuff I used to carry in my pocket—in a museum display! I still remember how to type out texts with the number pad, pushing the 3 twice for an “e” and the 7 four times for an “s”. I guess that skill isn’t all that useful anymore.

The Theologian Drawing Daisies

Last Sunday, our church met together with ten of our sister churches for a combined service. Individually, our churches are small and spread out in local communities across two counties, but once every two years we all come together and it’s glorious. The singing. The shared fellowship, and vision. The friends we haven’t seen in a long time. It’s good to remember that we’re in this together.

One of the illustrations in the sermon was about how, in Christ, God’s children don’t need to wonder about his love for us, like someone pulling petals from a daisy saying, “he loves me, he loves me not”. In Christ, we are secure, and every petal is, “he loves me”. Isn’t that wonderful? As I listened, I noticed a friend of mine a couple rows up doing something I’ve never seen him do before. Kevin is a leader in his local church, and a careful theologian. He teaches for our local Bible college, and is currently finishing up his doctoral thesis on the work of the Holy Spirit in the Old Testament. Yet there he was, drawing daisies on a sheet of paper. Petals, leaves, stems—and big, happy smiles.

The Skill That Unlocks Other Skills

I would love to be a painter. Even a good sketcher. A decent doodler. I have plenty of appreciation for art that really captures a moment well—that invites you to share the wonder or the pain in a face, or the windswept endurance of a place—but I can’t do it myself. My pen on paper can create lines that are just about recognisable, but I know people who can translate the full magic of a moment into brushstrokes, and I’m in awe of that skill. I don’t understand how their fingers can move with such confident precision and grace. And yet, in another way, I do understand—this is the result of practice. I’ve seen enough to know how it works. The skills that appear the most effortless are the ones that come from hours and years and maybe decades of hidden effort.

The Importance Of Doing What Anyone Could Do

A good friend of mine got an award in recognition of his work with a charity that teaches job skills to men in Birmingham, Alabama. He has been their scissors, cutting them through all the red tape required to actually be able to support people. As a lawyer, he has the skill set needed for the job. As a Christian, he has a driving motivation to give himself for the sake of others, just as God has given to him. Still, he was modest:

“A lot of people could have done it.”

Which is true, I’m sure. The thing is, they didn’t. The charity didn’t need people who could do the job. They needed someone who would do it. My friend was (and is) that person, and I say the world needs a lot more like him. And it doesn’t always have to be complicated or specialised. Often the most helpful acts of support and kindness are also some of the most mundane – the kinds of things almost anyone could do.