Work

​Whether it’s in a hospital, warehouse, surf shop, classroom, office building or kitchen, let your work be your prayer. And let your prayer be love.

Vincent Van Gogh, Ladies of Aries, 1888

When Kathleen and I started dating, I decided to take a year off from work to experience retirement while I was young enough to enjoy it.

I figured after 20 years paying taxes, sometimes working two or three jobs at a time, I’d earned the break.
 
But I was raised with a strong work ethic. So, my retirement was more like a sabbatical. And barely even that.

​Before long, I found myself stuck in traffic, commuting to another office, to work another shift in the daily grind of life.

Whether you love your job or not, there’s always work to be done. Somebody’s got to pick up the trash, open the grocery stores, fix the brakes, or write another ad to sell more stuff.
 
But before AI changes all that, let’s work our way through the 6th sacred move of creation, where we find ourselves in a garden. Once again, God speaks. And our efforts are given both purpose and eternal significance.

​The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, “You may freely eat of every tree of the garden,  but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.” Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Genesis 2:15-18

The story moves from God creating stuff, to us doing stuff.  But let's not be too quick to write this off as a story about a guy named Adam. It’s way more than that. In the original Hebrew, ha’adam, which is translated as Adam, isn’t a proper name. It doesn’t even mean “man” as in male (that’s ish). It comes from the word adamah, meaning earth or soil. In the most literal sense, Adam (ha'adam) means earthling or a thing made from earth.

This should be a quick clue that God didn’t just employ some guy to do all the gardening. God hired all of us.
More importantly, this work we’re called to do—cultivating, tending, caring—isn’t just about productivity. It’s our identity. From the very beginning, it seems the goal and our main purpose in life is about caring and nurturing both the soil and all the things that come from it.
 
Each week, as we move through the sacred rhythms, we learned everything God created, God called good. In fact, the only thing that isn’t good is isolation. God said, “It’s not good for this earthling to be alone.”
 
So, God creates an ezer—a helper.  This helper is named Eve, which means “life.” Now, don’t let the word “helper” fool you because ezer isn’t a subordinate or secretary. It’s the same word scripture uses to describe God. It means strength. Support. Rescue. Eve doesn’t work for Adam. She’s his strength, his savior. A co-equal partner.
 
In my advertising days, I always worked with someone. I was the writer; they were the art director. The reason behind this was simple. The best concepts happened through collaboration, building off one another’s ideas.

But when I started this house church, it was just me. I was working in a vacuum, with a limited perspective.
 
Everything changed when I partnered with Rev. Dawn and Rev. Bob. Practically, our merger cutout redundancy and saved us all time. But spiritually it increased our capacity to think above and beyond what we had been doing individually.

Today, we continue to work side-by-side for something greater than we could ever build on our own.
 
I think this is what the text is telling us. Not only are we made of the very stuff we’re asked to care for. But we are made to care for it together— in a holy and sacred partnership.
 
In his 8 Moves devotional, Glen McWherter illustrates this by pointing to honeybees. Some gather nectar, others build the honeycomb, or tend the young. Every task, big or small, helps the colony thrive. Your work may feel small or unseen, but when it serves a greater purpose, it becomes meaningful and lasting.
 
Jesus didn’t fly solo. He called others to join him. Fishermen. Tax collectors. Women with pasts. People with no pedigree, or anything to prove.

​Then again, Jesus wasn’t building an empire and crowning himself king. He was building an enduring community … where everyone had a seat at the table—no matter who you were, where you were from, or how others saw you.
 
In Jesus, God isn’t some distant deity but a laborer among us. A carpenter, who doesn’t throw out the blueprint from Eden—but fulfills it. Jesus doesn’t dominate. But lowers himself to redeem and restore others. He serves, heals, protects, cultivates, and loves. More than a job description—it’s a way of life.
 
If that’s what Jesus does for a living, … shouldn’t that be what we do as well? Before you answer that question, remember this work doesn’t come with a fancy title. It comes with a towel to wash tired feet. And a cross to carry on our back.
 
This is both physical and spiritual labor. The quiet, unseen work of showing up with your heart wide open. Of being fully present even when you’re worn thin. Of offering help in spite of your own heart aching.

It’s the kind of work that doesn’t make headlines. It changes lives. The the kind of labor that turns strangers into neighbors, and neighbors into family.
 
This is a spiritual practice Henri Nouwen understood well. Nouwen left a tenured job at Harvard and moved into LA Arche, a community that cares for adults with disabilities. It wasn’t prestigious work like he was used to. But it was gospel.

Nouwen tended to God’s garden through a thousand small, faithful acts of love. Out of which his life, and the lives of countless others would be changed forever.
 
Which is exactly what Jesus employs us to do. Not every job he gives us will feel like a dream. Some days are painfully repetitive. Some roles will feel disconnected from your gifts. But even in those long, frustrating seasons, God is working, loving, and tending to each one of us—transforming you and me… from the inside out.
 
Because in the end, work is never just about what we produce. It’s about who we are becoming in the process.
 
Brother Lawrence was a 17th-century monk who was assigned to kitchen duty at the monastery—a job he deeply loathed. He spent his days scrubbing pots, stirring soup, cleaning up after his brothers. It was repetitive, tiresome work that left him bitter.

His anger and frustration caused him to question God’s presence in his life. And then, something changed.
 
One day, while washing the pots and pans, Brother Lawrence thought if God was really with him, then that meant God was in the kitchen too. In the sink, on the stove, in the middle of serving meals. Almost immediately, that space changed how he saw it.

The kitchen became a sanctuary. Chopping vegetables became hymns. Washing dishes became worship.
 
Brother Lawrence wrote, “the time of business does not differ from the time of prayer.” His work reminds us that whenever we do something with love, even the most ordinary task can become holy and sacred.
 
As our friend Glen, reminds us: “Let your work, however ordinary, reflect the extraordinary love of Christ…When you labor in love, you become part of something bigger than any job title or task list.”
 
Paul said like this: “Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of Christ Jesus, giving thanks to God through him” (Colossians 3:17).
 
What does that say about the work you’re doing? Brother Lawrence peeled potatoes with God. Henri Nouwen changed diapers with Christ. Jesus built tables and bridges—between friends and foes.

​Whether it’s in a hospital, warehouse, surf shop, classroom, office building or kitchen, let your work be your prayer. And let your prayer be love.

​Let your life be the labor of Christ—a living reminder of God’s gracious glory among us.
 
Because when we show up wearing our hearts on our sleeves, we become part of something bigger than a paycheck. We become builders of a community of love in the space between.  A people who dare to love God, love others and serve both.
 
This is the way of Jesus, who invites us to work alongside him… healing, caring, cultivating all of creation. You don’t have to be a professional to do this work. You just have to be present. Someone willing to show up for others, creating a safer space where love is practiced, not just preached.
 
This week, as you go to work, or look for work, let everything you do—however ordinary it may seem—be part of the extraordinary life that God has created. Let your labor sow seeds of grace in the lives of others. And trust: the harvest will come.
 
Because this is where God has placed us, and anointed us with the Holy Spirit, “to bring good news to the poor…to proclaim release to the captives…to set the oppressed free…”
 
Let’s go into this space together, carrying the gospel in our very skin so our love can be made visible. And the world will know that God is here. In the kitchens and classrooms, offices and workshops, sidewalks and living rooms making the space between us holy and sacred as heaven and earth become a perfect garden once more.