I helped my friend put a new roof on his house this weekend. He gathered a motley crew of in-laws, pastors, and handymen. The roof was leaky, shingles curled, and drip edge damaged. My job, as pastor and construction novice, was aligning shingles while another worker shot nails into place.
I lusted after the power of the nail gun, every pull of the trigger sounding a piercing Ptssst. Ptssst. Ptssst. But I accepted my role as leveler. Straight lines are aesthetically pleasing. Menial tasks are still meaningful. And if you don't catch a crooked line, not only will you follow it to the end of the roof, you will throw off every line above you.
I think there is a moral about orthodoxy here.