A Theology of Work

"Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." 1 Corinthians 10:13

Each morning, we get up and step into the shoes of our calling. Yet the old nature couches at our door: Do more. Be better. Earn your worth. The battle feels relentless. The to-do list grows. The weight of unmet expectations presses heavy on us. We become prisoners of our own minds and striving, mistaking business for faithfulness, and and productivity for purpose.

But the gospel has a different theology of work. “Thus saith the Lord GOD, the Holy One of Israel; In returning and rest shall ye be saved; in quietness and in confidence shall be your strength” (Isaiah 30:15). Yes, this is speaking first about salvation, but that does not mean that secondary truths are absent. They appear when the aperture of the text comes into focus. The strength of a believer is not in endless striving, but in quiet submission to the One who holds all things— in salvation and work. Our efforts, untethered from His glory, are lighter than vanity. Yet when offered as dedication to God, they become holy things, bearing the mark of eternity.

This doesn’t mean we abandon work, far from it. God Himself ordained work before the Fall, commanding Adam to keep the garden (Genesis 2:15). It later turned into labor, along with the curse. (Ex. 20:9,10) Work is not a curse. Labor is. Labor is when work is over-burdened by toil, anxiety, and frustration. The sweat of our brow reminds us daily that we are fallen creatures, sinful, broken. When we forget this, we turn our labor into idolatry, measuring our value by what we achieve rather than by who we are in Christ. Too many of us define ourselves by what we do, not who we are. What we do should facilitate who we are, not define us.

A theology of work is not about abandoning effort either. The believer despises sloth. It’s more about reframeing it. “It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so he giveth his beloved sleep” (Psalm 127:2). The striving that consumes us does not always come from a good place. We labor as though the outcome defines us, forgetting that God alone builds the house.

What would it mean to rest in God in our callings truly? To work, not for approval but from the soul’s understanding that your labor in the Lord is never in vain. (1 Corinthians 15:58) And rest, able to enjoy life, for life’s sake. This kind of rest is not unproductive; it’s a form of faith. It is the quiet confidence of a heart settled before its Maker, knowing that He works all things together for His glory and our good.

When we can place things in their proper perspective, gratitude is the result. It transforms both our labor, and our leasure. Work becomes less laborious when we see it as worship. Rest becomes guiltless when we realize our limits and weaknesses, not to mention our temptations. Rest is a deeper recognition of God’s providence in giving us hands that can labor at all. “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights” (James 1:17). When we see life through this lens, the mundane becomes meaningful. The smallest task and little enjoyments done in the confidence of our Lord become a testimony of His grace.

Suppose you think of a farmer planting seeds in Spring’s morning light. He doesn’t strive, fearing the rain won’t come, nor does he rest idly, expecting the harvest without labor. He works in faith, trusting the Lord of the harvest to give the increase. So must we. But a good farmer also knows what rest is and loves it. Just go into any diner in the Midwest in winter at 6 in the morning. You will see what Imean.

It’s a shift, from striving to faith-filled work. Striving, at its core, seeks to control what belongs to God alone. Faithful labor, on the other hand, surrenders the outcome to He who enables us to work. As Paul wrote, “I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase” (1 Corinthians 3:6). The farmer plants. The tradesman builds. The teacher instructs. Yet, in all, God’s hand sustains.

This is the freedom of having a theology of work. Do you have one? To live faithfully in the place God has ordained, neither haunted by yesterday nor paralyzed by tomorrow. We are free to work diligently, knowing the results rest in His sovereign hand. And we are free to rest, too, trusting that the One who neither slumbers nor sleeps will provide for all our needs (Psalm 121:4).

If our lives are rivers flowing toward a never-ending eternity, then tributaries of worry and ambition will churn the water on our banks. But beneath lies a deeper, larger current of calm—the steadfast love of your Savior that never ceases (Lamentations 3:22). To live in that stillness would be a piece of heaven on earth, no? To know true peace, not as an escape from life but as an anchor to it.

The world tells us “What we do is who we are”. That is not how the bible describes us. To seek fulfillment in perishing things, the next achievement, the next stage of life, and the next accolade is to embrace that which will end in corruption. But God calls believers to glorify Him in the ordinary faithfulness of today. Whether you are caring for a child, filing papers, or hammering nails, each act can work with eternal purpose when done unto the Lord.

Let us reject self-focused striving. Let us embrace a theology of work and rest as acts of devotion, knowing that our labor is not in vain, nor our rest, when it is grounded in His glory. In Christ, we are not slaves to the noise of “more.” We are free to work, free to rest, free to live—to His glory and for our good.