The Reward
I was watching Episode 10 Season 3 of ‘The Rookie’ a few weeks ago — the episode where Officers Lucy Chen and Jackson West became P2 and stopped being rookies. Due to a prank initiated by Jackson’s dad, the newly-promoted officers believed there was some ceremony/gift that would commemorate their graduation.
Understand — this is a TV show so their rookie year was jam-packed with action and obstacles they had to go through to make the show exciting. Nightmare TOs teaching/pushing them to their limits, domestic disturbances, violent crimes, terrorism, a National Security issue or two, and even a serial killer featured in their long rookie year. In the context of the show, the moving up to P2 certainly felt like it warranted some sort of celebration.
Naturally, the fire of their expectations was readily doused by the banality of every day.
Sgt. Grey: Now, for the business of the day. Officer Chen, Officer West —
[Officers Chen & West smile, begin to stand up]
Sgt. Grey: Where the hell are you all going?
P2 West: Oh. Uh. We thought that maybe -
P2 Chen: Sir, it’s our first day as P2s.
Sgt. Grey: So what, you want me to throw you a party? Give you a gift? Give you flowers, what?
The line immediately struck me. It reminded me of Neil Gaiman’s ‘Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?’ In 2009, Gaiman had a crack at the final Batman story, where, over his wake, Batman’s various friends and enemies talked about the ultimate demise of the Dark Knight. And at the end of it, the Batman gets an epiphany about his life.
When I first read this comic, the percipience of the statement completely blew by me. It was just a line. Now, 14 years later, I understand.
The reward for being a good father to my son is that I get to be my son’s father. He has special needs. He has autism, ADHD, IDD, and maybe a host of other undiagnosed issues in his body. Because I am with him most moments of the day, I get to know him like no one else.
I get to show up and be with him in his struggles. By giving me a look, I get to understand what he’s trying to communicate even though he is unable to speak. I get to see his spirit and perseverance when I push him forward. I get to bask in his love and sweetness. For all my efforts and hardships and sacrifices, I get the interminable privilege of being his dad.
In the same way, the reward for being my wife’s husband is that I get to be her husband. I prayed for her when we were still getting to know each other. We have hurt each other and endured one another. On our darkest days, we rejected the option to walk away and chose to stay together. We have been in each other’s lives for 25 years and there is no one who knows us more than we do.
And my reward for those 25 years is that I am the only one who gets to see all her light and all her dark. I’m the one with the exclusive backstage pass — I see her triumphs and her fears, her brilliance and idiocy. I get her care and the entitlement of being bullied to do favors for her. I get to be loved by her.
How many times do we pray and work for something and then end up taking those things for granted? How often do we get inured to the honors and wonders we strove and fought for? How often does the normality of every day blind us to the miracles we couldn’t believe we received back when they first happened? I’ll tell you: it happens every day.
The reward for a job well done is that we get to do it one more day.
And one day, maybe another 14 years from now, I’ll understand another mystery — how Jesus himself is the reward for loving Christ. You see, going to heaven on the Day of Judgment is not the ultimate reward for being a Christian (although it’s the one most touted by evangelists). It’s not even having love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control in your life — those are just the fruit of the Spirit, the evidence that God sits at the throne of your heart.
No, Jesus himself is the reward. I know it in my head, but I don’t know it know it yet.
When revelation kicks in, I’ll tell you all about it.
