by Ken Costa
There is a story of two executives who visited Indonesia to test the market for shoe sales. One reported back that few of the inhabitants wore shoes and concluded that there was no point in setting up a factory. The other executive looked at the same situation but saw the opportunity of selling shoes to the millions of shoeless Indonesians. Same place, same facts, different perspective.
I believe that our world—with all its tortuous opportunities to live independently of the original prospectus, the Bible—is a world that is “exceedingly good” because Jesus came to conquer all those forces that corrupt and to make a way for creation to become as God intended. He can make boredom bearable and toil tolerable for those who see through the lens of his work. He also makes joy incomparable, far greater than any other experience of it in the world.
If only we could see the world differently, as Caleb did. If we see it as the other spies did, we see giants who are too difficult to defeat. We are negative, complaining, untrusting, and unable to advance. However, if we believe and trust in a powerful God, then we see that the world is “exceedingly good” and that, through the power of God, we can move toward our God-given callings and not be afraid. We see milk and honey flowing from the goodness of people whose lives are changed.
But how exactly do we make an imprint? How can we be of any use to God in the workplace?
TAKING GOD’S PERSPECTIVE
I was talking to a friend a few months ago who was trying to understand what it means to be a Christian witness in the secular workplace. What does it look like when someone enters the workplace with a uniquely Christian calling?
“Imagine someone working in a junior role for a big accounting firm,” he said to me, “who talks to her colleagues about Jesus whenever the opportunity arises and invites them along to church, but never really gets anywhere with it. After putting up with it for a while, her colleagues get bored; they shut her down whenever she tries to turn the conversation to matters of faith. They don’t give her a chance to witness. How can she have a calling in the workplace in that situation? How can she be a witness to Jesus when nobody wants to hear it?”
This is an all-too-common situation. Christians are going into their places of work desperate to make Jesus known, but they are repeatedly confronted by coworkers who just don’t want to know.
But my friend’s response to this situation also left me feeling downcast. He couldn’t envisage a Christian calling in the workplace that went beyond straight-up evangelism. If the words of the gospel were falling on deaf ears, he thought, then what more could a Christian do?
This mind-set is a problem in many parts of the church. This narrow, reductionist perspective about what it means to have a calling is hamstringing the Christian witness in the workplace. It alienates and divorces Christianity from the world.
Jesus told us in Matthew’s gospel that we, as Christians, are called to be salt to the earth and light to the world (Matthew 5:13–16). Part of our common Christian calling is that we transform this life. We are not called simply to win converts with words, to drag people onto the lifeboat of faith as if saving them from the stricken Titanic. Christianity is not a faith for isolationists. The gospel is ultimately about this world being redeemed by trusting Jesus. Evangelism is certainly a key part of the gospel message—and it may well be a key part of our callings—but it has a twin called transformation. Both are integral to God’s reconciliation of humanity.
We are called into the workplace to transform the workplace. To bring a little slice of God’s divine, transforming goodness. To be salt and light in the way we work. But still this question remains: How do we make an imprint? How can we be salt and light? How can we carry out God-given callings in the workplace?
The simple answer is that we are called to act with love in everything we do. In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus gave us two commandments. The first is quoted straight from Deuteronomy: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind” (Matthew 22:37). And the second, he said, is like it: “Love your neighbor as yourself” (v. 39). This is the general calling all Christians receive—to love our neighbors and to love our God.
Who are our neighbors? In the workplace, it is anyone with whom we engage: shareholders, clients or customers, colleagues, suppliers, and the local communities in which our businesses or charities operate on a day-to-day basis. It is the “invisible partners” on whom we depend, and who depend on us in turn, but are rarely acknowledged in the quarterly review. We, as Christians, are called to love them not with an agenda or an ulterior motive, but simply for the sake of it. We are called to act with fairness, honesty, and integrity in places of work that can often be places of deceit, cutthroat competition, and selfish ambition. We are called to glorify God in our daily interactions and to live lives marked by worship of God and love of our neighbors.
Trying to live such lives in the workplace can sometimes feel like fruitless endeavors. It can be deeply disheartening to see attempts at love, honesty, and integrity fall on hard and unresponsive soil. Earlier in my career, not long after I had taken a more senior role in the firm where I was working, I pushed for the firm to start investing more in employees’ mental health. I wanted to see our company providing counseling services and taking a more proactive approach to relieving work-based stress. Now, of course, such services are becoming popular as employers wake up to the dangers of burnout and stress-related conditions, but at the time many of my suggestions went completely unheeded. The old model of employment tended to see employees as a commodity from which to extract the maximum short-term profit, and there was little appetite for investing in long-term employee health, especially when it came to the misunderstood issues of mental welfare.
At such times it is important to remember that while the world might judge by outcomes and results, God does not. So we shouldn’t judge the success of our actions by the standards of the world. There is value in the act of love itself. There was value simply in the fact that I was pushing for a change, even if my arguments were not successful. In our hospitals and our prisons, Christians have always been found loving the broken and the dying, the criminal and the drug addicted. We might hope for change, but we don’t commit to loving such people on the basis that change will arise. We love them because they are children of God, worthy of love just as they are, in all their brokenness.
God calls us to use our God-given skills and talents in unique ways to further his kingdom. Just as God called Moses, Gideon, and Joseph in their places of work, so God calls all of us into specific places at specific times, to transform places of darkness into places of light.
One of the greatest problems facing Christianity today is a refusal to believe that God could possibly care about our individual futures, that God could care about our day-to-day lives or have plans for us outside of a particularly religious call. We’re often fine with the idea that he might call other people, but there can be a deep insecurity about whether God could possibly use us. When it comes to my calling and my future, we fear that God has forgotten us.
Of course, it’s relatively easy to understand Christian calling when it relates to those who fulfill some specifically Christian responsibility in their places of work. Pastors, worship leaders, and high-profile evangelists can make a clear link between their work and their God-given callings. So, too, can those who inhabit positions of power and prestige, or those whose work has an obvious positive impact on society. They might still doubt it, but we can easily imagine that politicians, teachers, charity workers, and doctors find it easier to rest assured that their work is an embodiment of their Christian calling.
But what about those who are not going to cure cancer, deliver aid, or evangelize from a platform? How can they see a calling that is unique to them?
Part of the answer lies in trying to view our work through the eyes of God, rather than through the eyes of the world. The world is utilitarian in its judgments and standards. The more obvious good we do and the
more people we positively impact, the more the world will judge our efforts worthwhile. But this is not God’s perspective.
Mark’s gospel describes an occasion when Jesus was in the temple courtyard, watching the crowds put money into the treasury. Some very wealthy people poured huge sums of money into the collection plate, probably with lots of trumpeting and self-promotion. And then in slipped a poor widow, who put into the collection two small copper coins—barely enough to buy a meal of grain.
The donations of the rich would go on to do great works through the temple. They’d feed the priests, clothe the poor, buy new ornaments to adorn the spaces of worship. Compared to that, the widow’s offering was practically worthless in the eyes of the world. But it was not worthless to Jesus.
Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.” (Mark 12:43–44)
In the end, even the greatest of our works will be forgotten by the world. All our efforts will be dust and ashes in the face of God’s eternal glory. There is a beautiful simplicity to that verse in Isaiah 40: “The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God endures forever” (v. 8). When it comes to the worthiness of our callings, we need to take a divine perspective and remember that God’s standards are not like those of the world.
Some people are called to do great works—govern countries, direct relief efforts, evangelize millions. And some people are called to do small acts of service—pour coffee with a smile, sweep the streets, bake a cake for their neighbors. But God does not look at these things and see them as inconsequential. To him they are beautiful outpourings of his spirit.
A calling to serve God in the workplace might be to revive a failing company. Or perhaps it is to be a loyal and faithful friend to a coworker going through a tough time. Though the world may judge one as more significant than the other, God does not.
FOMO
Insecurity about the legitimacy of one’s calling is not the only great obstacle facing those currently entering the workplace. Many adults in their twenties currently inhabit a state of deferred adolescence. Whereas graduating from college or celebrating a twenty-first birthday once marked the end of this stage of life, adulthood is postponed for some as the job market shrinks and the perennial question “What am I going to do with my life?” becomes paralyzing. Commitment is therefore deferred across the board: what job to take, where to live, and whether or not to be in a relationship. There is a new subgeneration of “gradolescents” developing; that is, graduates who have not yet fully emerged to face the sharp winds of the working world.
Above all, there is a huge increase in the choices available to younger men and women that were not available to the previous generations. More choices do not guarantee an easier life; often they are paralyzing rather than liberating. Overwhelmed by possibilities, these young people are gripped by FOMO: Fear Of Missing Out. This fear is crippling many people who believe they are stuck and worry that making one choice excludes the benefits of another.
Martin is a young consultant strategist. He is bright, well educated, and perfectly capable of achieving a huge amount for the kingdom of God, to which he is devoted. He completed college—not at the top of his class, but high enough. He had many job opportunities even in this harsh environment. He started working for a charity and then took time out to travel. He entered into a relationship but without any real commitment to it long-term. We met to talk about his future. On the face of it, he had options others only dream of, and yet at his core he was unfulfilled. As we talked, it became clear that he was beset by an overriding fear of missing out on the many opportunities that could be available to him in the future. Accepting a job meant excluding another that might turn up later. To be too intentional about one woman excluded the possibility of meeting someone else later who was more perfect. To commit to sharing a flat with two good friends ended the possibility of finding a better place closer to the center of London. Church life was a matter of observation without involvement—watching but not willing to engage too deeply. He felt that he was strapped to the starting blocks, ready to move forward but unable to start the race.
Many have similar stories. I’ve noticed a pervasive, chronic expectation among young adults that there exists a perfect life path where every variable is lined up: financial resources, future prospects, relationships, and so on. On that path, choices would practically make themselves.
Martin could not see the tape at the end of the race and spent needless time debating why he was on the starting block. I understood his angst. We talked at length about how to fight and not fuel his FOMO. He needed to realize that in Christ, you don’t miss out. The principal problem is who determines the missing out. If it is the individual, then choice is the enemy of commitment. But if we believe that the future belongs to God and he is able to lead us through the fear trap, then a new perspective takes hold. Fear diminishes as favor increases. It starts with a simple step. Once we have faith that only God holds our futures, we accept the wonderful truth that those who put their trust in him will have no reason to fear missing out in life.
Unchecked, FOMO can grow into a hunger for accumulating possessions as well as experiences. This is the problem behind another popular acronym: YOLO (You Only Live Once).
I think of a friend who was buying a fancy new car. “Why not?” he said. “You can’t take it with you.” I know that mantra well. I have heard it said many times by the rich and powerful, but also by those of lesser means as a prelude to some extravagance. Why not enjoy life—buy a new toy, go on vacation, have an affair, tick the so-called bucket list of the hundred things you must do before you die? After all, whatever James Bond might say, you only live once. Not twice.
In a physical sense, it is, of course, true that “you can’t take it with you.” We will all die physically. But that is not the end of the story. The promise of Jesus, underwritten by his unique resurrection from the dead, is that new life is possible beyond death. We leave behind our homes, our bank accounts, and all our physical assets, perhaps to be squabbled over. Even our marriages and relationships with our friends cease. But existence does not.
That’s what’s so incredible about the good news: for those who put their trust in Jesus, there is the promise of resurrection and eternal life! This life that Jesus calls us to will continue beyond physical death—and we can take it with us. Life in all its fullness starts now, at work, in our friendships, and in our communities. And it is forever.
My wife and I had John 10:10 printed on the front of our order of service at our wedding: “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” This verse is the foundation of our marriage and the single promise we have held on to most tightly throughout our life together. Against the prevailing belief in the world of a narrow-minded, miserly God, we need to live the truth that he is committed to abundance and to our flourishing in this life.
ETHOS AND THEOS
YOLO is either an invitation to binge in indulgence or an expression of the desire to make every moment pleasing to God. When Paul wrote to the Colossians, he admonished them to seize every opportunity to work for the Lord, enjoying all the good things that God had given, and to share those with others: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters” (Colossians 3:23). This is the ethos at the heart of the Christian faith, although it can be difficult to identify within our wider society.
Ethos is the ingredient that establishes the dominant culture in an organization or a society. Ethos sets the way we behave and our reasons for doing so. Often we say that a company is a good place to work because it has a good culture—a good ethos.
Year after year in the United Kingdom, the John Lewis Partnership heads the list of the best companies to work for. It owns some of the largest department stores in the country, but crucia
lly, it is owned by the employees, who divide the profits at the end of the year. John Lewis has established an incredibly positive central ethos to the company, helping it thrive.
And, of course, there are many examples of companies whose corrupt or negative ethos produce damaging results, both among the employees and in their performances. One of the most motivating tasks for those who are “in the world, for the world” is to bring about a whole-scale ethos change. In redirecting the objectives of commerce away from self-gratification and toward service to others, we serve God.
If we are filled with God’s love, compassion, gentleness, and truth, then we have the power to transform the atmosphere around us. Conversely, if we are filled with bitterness, anger, jealousy, and hatred—even though we have smiles on our faces—the negativity can leak out and pollute our environments.
A teacher named Emily used to work alongside a bitter, unhappy colleague in the school where she taught. This colleague badmouthed parents and children, and she spoke with vitriolic passion about most things. Emily found it an impossible place to work. She shared her concern with her church small group, who encouraged her to worship, pray, and get right with God, so that when she walked into the staff room, the light of Jesus could shine there.
When she started to do this, she discovered something remarkable. As she prayed for this difficult colleague over a number of weeks, she was filled with love for her. The colleague was still bitter and foul-tempered, but Emily was able to see beyond the bitterness and respond in love. She began to see not a nasty and spiteful person but a broken and hurting child of God. She allowed the change within her to be revealed in her attitude. Each day Emily was able to walk into the staff room shining the love and grace of Christ. She said the difference her actions made was tangible; it was as if this colleague were struck dumb.