The Skyscraper Parable

In 2004, Max Lucado described him as “the closest I will ever come to the Apostle Paul.” Lucado tells the story of their chance meeting and conversation in chapter fourteen of It’s Not About Me. The man who so inspired Lucado was Rabbi Daniel, and from 2002 until 2005 when I moved away for college, I was blessed not only to attend his Messianic Jewish synagogue, but also to spend a great deal of time with his family and learning from him at his home and office. Those three years transformed my faith forever, and set my life on course for a unique adventure, and I thought that one of his favorite stories would be an appropriate place to begin sharing that adventure with you.

The story begins with a young woman who works for her father, the CEO of a large company that occupies an entire Manhattan skyscraper. Her father works on the top floor, and few of his employees have ever seen him, but they have seen his daughter.

One morning, the young woman arrives late and irritable. Seeing the security guard protecting the entrance, she demands that he leave his post to get her a muffin. The guard hesitates. His job is to protect the building, but this is the CEO's daughter. She raises her eyebrows in indignation. "I'll be right back," he mumbles, as he hurries away to the bakery across the street. He wonders, not for the first time, what kind of man the CEO upstairs really is, and as he stands in line waiting for the muffin, he daydreams about working for someone else.

The muffin is excellent, but the carpeted floor of the young woman's office is soon littered with crumbs. She looks out in exasperation as a secretary passes by with a heavy load of papers. "What are you doing with all those papers?" she snaps.

"I'm on the way to bind them for the board meeting," the secretary explains. "It's about to start and these reports were just finalized."

"Forget it," says the CEO's daughter, "I need you to vacuum my office."

"But my manager told me..." the secretary begins.

"I said forget it," the young woman shoots back. "I'm telling you something else."

The secretary is confused. She knows the board meeting is important, but this is the boss's daughter. What can she do? She sets the papers down and heads away to look for a vacuum cleaner, wondering if the man upstairs has any idea what he's doing.

So it goes. The daughter goes through her day demanding, interrupting, calling shots that aren't hers to call. She never mentions her father. She never has to. Everyone knows she's his daughter. Everyone wonders, if she's so selfish, what kind of man is he?

Rabbi Daniel told this story often as a parable. He always followed this story with a second version.

This time, the young woman arrived to greet the security guard with a smile. "I brought you a muffin," she says, earning a wide grin. "You're always here so early. The whole company appreciates you and feels safe knowing you're on duty." As she heads for the elevator, he can't help but wonder how he landed such a great position in such a great company.

A little later, she sees a secretary walking past her office door with a heavy load of papers. "Let me help you with those," she says, jumping up to assist. The secretary has never met the CEO, but his daughter is so considerate that she can't help but admire him.

At the end of the day, the young woman steps into the elevator and presses the button for the top floor. The bell dings and the doors slide open, and she is greeted by her father's warm smile. He knows his people love her, and that they admire him because they've met her. "Well done," he says, "good and faithful servant."

As you've probably guessed, it's a parable about the church. The young woman never needs to invoke her father's name, but her actions reflect on him. In the first story, they reflect negatively and people who have never met the father think badly of him and the way he runs the company. In the second story, her actions reflect positively. She brings immeasurable value to her father's company, not because of a special skill set or resources that others don't have, but simply because of her relationship to the father.

If you carry God's name, you are in a similar position. Whether you see it or not, your actions carry immeasurable weight, not because of your skills or resources, but because of your relationship with him. A kind word or a thoughtful gesture may not seem like much, but coming from you, a son or a daughter of the King, simple actions take on a new level of holiness and significance. You don't merely represent yourself. You represent your father.