“I am who I am,” the Lord said to Moses at the burning bush, and in the Gospel of John, Jesus said, “before Abraham was, I AM,” to the crowd that would react so violently to this affirmation of His divine identity as to attempt to stone Him. Notice what He doesn’t say: “I am what I do,” or, “I am what I have,” much less, “I am what others say about me.” Yet these become our identities quite effortlessly, and often subconsciously.
The siren song, “I am what I do” seems to sound loudest for me. I hear it most clearly two times in the year–the fall and midwinter. Each suggests a kind of clean slate, whether for students, teachers, or the rest of us. In the past, I have been guilty of work idolatry: confusing what I do with Whose I am. My journey to recovery from workaholism was sparked by our oldest daughter, Gwyn, who let me know it was not working for her, or for me.
This year, as I grieve the loss of Gwyn to brain cancer at the age of 11, I am drawn to Christ the Worker. Our Lord worked with His hands for a living, and gave us a picture of what it means to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength.” This is doubtless part of my own discipleship journey, as workaholism is one of my primary temptations: I use work to rush, numb, or distract myself from pain. I find it quite easy to justify doing things for God and others, and my Protestant work ethic. The military and public service encouraged it, too.
Meaningful work’s dark side
At times, I have engaged in self-congratulation when my work is noticed, and envy when my work seems less important compared with others. This is my confession. Yet Christ the Worker redeems this brokenness, exposing the lie that “I am what I do,” and invites me to be yoked to Him because I am His beloved. Our Lord worked for years with His hands at the family carpentry business before he ever took to the road as a traveling rabbi, and applied Himself to learn the Hebrew scriptures before he ever called a single student to join Him in His mission.
For His name’s sake, He continues to redeem the brokenness that lies within us and between His people, making us joyful co-laborers again. He redeems our fallen views of work, and teaches us how to practice laboring restfully together, yoked with Him. Part of this “restful work” is maintaining healthy rhythms and boundaries. In my own life, I discovered a deeper practice of Sabbath-keeping after my mom died, which helped me to identify just how much I had medicated my sadness with work, and return that false search for meaning to Him.
When we are yoked together in Christ’s work–slowing down to enjoy being with Him–we are not triggered by fears that we are not doing enough. Even exhaustion, negative emotions, and critical feedback are welcome, because they offer us valuable insights. They show us where our confidences may have shifted out of our Good Shepherd and His voice, to other sources. They invite us to new levels of knowing and being known. They ready us for transformation. When shared in kindness, curiosity, and love, these “weaknesses” of ours can actually grow our compassion and connection for others in the body of Christ, restoring hope, joy and restfulness in our work together.
I give you a new commandment
Walking this way does not come naturally to most of us. It simply wasn’t modeled in our families or origin, where we tended to sweep concerns under the rug, try to read others’ minds, speak for others, silence or neutralize opposing views, or defend ourselves against questions or complaints as personal attacks. If we aim to work together as fellow image-bearers of God, we require a whole new language. One helpful tool for learning this new way of speaking is the Community Temperature Reading skill from the Emotionally Healthy Relationships Course by Peter & Geri Scazzero. Our family has used this model over the last year as a script for family meetings, and have found it very helpful for restoring our confidence in each other–for family members spanning age four to nearly 40. The sentence stems help us approach one other with curiosity and compassion: “I notice/ I wonder…” “I am puzzled / concerned that…” “I appreciate…” and “I hope / look forward to…” If these feel weird rolling off the tongue, it may be because we are far more accustomed to using loaded questions, speaking for others, not getting to finishing our own sentences, and sarcasm.
Many times, Christian families, and Christian communities, fall short of learning to communicate within the new family of Jesus. We put on our nicest Christian face, and do not say what we mean, or mean what we say. We hide our real motives and emotions others, and even from ourselves. Is it any wonder that inner and outer conflicts simmer and boil over? Practicing these scripts offers way of putting words (and skin) on Christ’s admonition in the Gospel of John: “A new commandment I give to you, vthat you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” Put more bluntly, “if I have not love, I am a clanging cymbal,” out of tune with reality itself. Better to feel awkward in learning a new way of speaking, than suffer that fate!
Image: Parable of the Labourers, Codex Aureus Epternacensis, 11th century
In this season, I’m also drawn to meditate on the Parable of the Laborers. The laborers are so focused on looking left and right of them at what others are doing or not doing, receiving or not receiving, they easily take their eyes off the prize. “Run in such a way as to win the prize,” St. Paul echoes in my head, in his first letter to the Corinthians. And, the writer of Hebrews riffs on the same image of the race well run: “Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses…let us run with endurance the race set before us, looking to Jesus…who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame…”
The prize: being with Jesus vs. doing for Him
What is the prize? The prize is the joy of our salvation. If our work, which at times can be a kind of cross to bear, is not also increasing our JOY, then it is time to be curious about that. Rather than comparing ourselves to other people, which feeds bitterness and resentment, we can instead begin to notice and wonder about what brings them joy. If that’s too difficult, we might start instead with what brings us joy? What do we consider well worth the expenditure of our blood, sweat and tears? If this is hard to answer alone, we might ask others how they might answer this for us: “What do you think brings me the most joy and meaning? What work do you think I would be involved in, even if I were not paid for it?” Through others’ eyes, we might get to know ourselves a bit better. In this way, we might also avoid the common mistake that Alain de Botton points out in The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work: the notion that we deserve everything we work for, and everything we get, both fortune and misfortune alike. This is a thinly disguised version of two of the lies Jesus confronted in the desert–“I am what I do,” or “I am what I have.” The life of Christ is our best pattern for unlearning these tempting messages.
There is a Ghanaian work song I have learned to sing with children, called “Christ the Worker.” The lyrics speak to this reality:
Christ the worker / Born in Bethlehem / Born to work and die for everyone!
Blessed man-child / Boy of Nazareth / Grew in wisdom as he grew in skill!
Skillful craftsman / Blessed carpenter / Praising God by labor at his bench!
Yoke maker / Fashioned by his hands / Easy yokеs that made the labor less!
All who labor / Listen to his call / He will make that heavy burden light!
Heavy laden / Gladly come to him / He will ease your load and give you rest!
Christ the worker / Love alive for us / Teach us how to do all work for God!
Finally, as Henry Blackaby says, we begin our best work by asking God Himself where He is already at work, and listening quietly so that we may join Him there. In this way, we can fulfill the meaning of the parable of the laborers, investing our labor in the Kingdom, for an audience of one. Even better–we work yoked together with Him, whose “yoke is easy, and whose burden is light.”
How is God coming to you in the joys and sorrows of your work, this season?