Why Christians Should Make the Best Employees

As a Christian, realizing your coworker has the same faith can be like finding a fellow countryman in a strange land—an instant connection.

But sometimes a coworker claimed to believe as I and hoped no one else knew. I remember one young guy I worked with who was often late, disappeared once for a few days (he said later he was sick), and was laughed at behind his back because he was lazy, stupid, and couldn’t be relied on to do his job well.

And then I found out he was quitting to go work at a Christian camp. I cringed.

Another time, a coworker was telling me a humorous story about another guy who used to work there who, while out in the field, would hide his vehicle and take a nap. My coworker caught him because he forgot to turn off the flashing beacon on the vehicle. He told me his name and my heart sank. I’d gone to Bible School with him.

Neither of these are isolated incidents in my short career.

It shouldn’t be this way. Christians should be the best employees. Why?

We are Ambassadors of Christ

“We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us” (1 Corinthians 5:20 NIV).

I’ve been drilled since childhood: we need to share the Gospel with our friends. But if we do not display the results of the Gospel in our lives, why should they listen to us?

Excuse me, but the fruit of the spirit is not laziness, tardiness, abrasiveness and irresponsibility. If we cannot be trusted, if the supervisor has to correct us constantly, if we take longer breaks than is our due, if we gossip and engage in political games, what proof of the Gospel is there? Faith without works is dead.

By being the example of an excellent employee, we build our platform for witness.

Work is our Divine Mission

Paul said to the slaves in Ephesus (a position more like the typical employee of our day and less like the North American slavery we are accustomed to reading about) that they should obey their earthy masters with respect and with sincerity of heart, “Not only to win their favour when their eye is on your, but like slaves of Christ, doing the will of God from your heart. Serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord,” (Ephesians 6:5-8 NIV).

Do you see what he says? “Doing the will of God from your heart.” Your work—God’s will. We serve wholeheartedly, because God has given us a job to do, and he is our true master. Even before the fall of mankind, Adam was given work to do. Work is not a punishment, but a mission.

God is leading me to see my job as a sacred calling: yes, manufacturing pharmaceuticals, a divine appointment. Every day when I walk into production and look at the board for my assignment, it isn’t just my supervisor who has given me that task, but God—my true master. Whatever I am doing, I must do it well. Whoever I am working with, I must bless.

I like calling it an assignment.  It makes me feel like a secret agent.

It’s far harder to do than to say, because by definition, excellence requires going against the current. And the current sure is strong in my workplace.  It seems I’ve failed just as many times as I’ve succeeded.  But it is fulfilling to know that my job in manufacturing is just as important as my job as a Sunday school teacher.

Your work is your mission field.

I hope to flesh this topic out further in the next couple of weeks, with the intention to write a more comprehensive ‘theology of work’. Dorothy Sayers wrote an essay on the subject, called “Why Work.” It is challenging, but incredibly affirming for those of us who don’t work in traditional Christian ‘ministries.’  

 

On Duck Dynasty, Empathy and the Right to Refuse

I am the voice crying in the wilderness “Can’t we all just get along?”

I don’t like conflict. I don’t know if that makes me a coward, or one of the peacemakers that Jesus called blessed. I don’t now if being anti-conflict is a strength or a weakness, and no more have I questioned this than in the last couple days.

It began on Thursday when, on my break at work, I had the misfortune of clicking on #DuckDynasty. I inhaled venom and vitriol like so much chemical fumes. They burnt my insides and left me feeling confused and ashamed to be part of the human race. I understand that Phil Robertson’s comments were offensive, but I don’t understand how his comments give license to be equally offensive. The level of cognitive dissonance displayed would have been funny if it had been on some more trivial subject. But it wasn’t funny at all.

I felt the need to take a side.

Thing is, like Phil, I am a Christian. I believe that, like a good father, God has set boundaries for his children and homosexuality is outside those boundaries. I do not hate gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender people and I respect their right to act according to their beliefs, but I cannot agree with them.

According to comments I read, that makes me ‘hateful’.

On the other hand, having now read Robertson’s comments in the original GQ article, I agree that he lacked tact. Whether it was naiveté or simply not caring what people think I do not know, but I am appalled that he would say such things in an interview. That’s just asking for it.

That makes me ‘afraid to stand for the truth’, apparently.

My confusion continued yesterday. My coworker and I were assigned the cleaning of one of the coaters (I work in pharmaceutical manufacturing). In order to do this job well we are required to climb inside the coater, which is dangerous and often leaves us bruised and sore. The procedure does not tell us to do this, but we can’t get the coater clean without doing so. My coworker announced to me that he was ‘going to be a d***’ and refuse to go into the coater. As part of our employee rights, we can exercise the ‘right to refuse’ if we believe the task is unsafe. He explained to me that the management and safety committee knew that the job was unsafe, but when he protested to them they told him that we just needed ‘more training’. Well, he called that BS, and this was his formal protest.

I decided to stand by his decision, and also refused to go in. The supervisor was notified, and she was pissed. So was our senior operator, and he talked to me and asked me if I actually agreed with this whole thing. I said yes, more or less. He continued to wheedle, and I began to waver.

He was called away, and I walked away feeling like such a weakling. Yeah, I didn’t ‘change sides’ so to speak, but I felt that I was way too easy to persuade because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

I told my coworker that I wasn’t going to stand in his way, but I wasn’t going to be around when the feces hit the fan either. He didn’t mind.

Is there any happy medium? Is there a way to stand for truth without being offensive? Without alienating the other party? Without shooting my mouth off and looking like an jerk?

In the fallout of Robertson’s remarks, I found an article that really encouraged me and shed some light on a solution. The Huffington Post article is by Shane L. Windmeyer, an LGBT activist and founder of Campus Pride, and is titled “Dan and Me: Coming out as a Friend of Dan Cathy and Chick-Fil-A”. You may remember that Chick-Fil-A was at the center of it’s own controversy in 2012 when it came forward that Chick-Fil-A was funding anti-LGBT organizations. Windmeyer and Campus Pride advanced a national campaign against Chick-Fil-A.

But then Windmeyer received a phone-call from Chick-Fil-A president and COO Dan Cathy, and that hour-long conversation led to more and more conversations and texts between the two men. Windmeyer says:

Throughout the conversations Dan expressed a sincere interest in my life, wanting to get to know me on a personal level. He wanted to know about where I grew up, my faith, my family, even my husband, Tommy. In return, I learned about his wife and kids and gained an appreciation for his devout belief in Jesus Christ and his commitment to being “a follower of Christ” more than a “Christian.” Dan expressed regret and genuine sadness when he heard of people being treated unkindly in the name of Chick-fil-a — but he offered no apologies for his genuine beliefs about marriage.
And in that we had great commonality: We were each entirely ourselves. We both wanted to be respected and for others to understand our views. Neither of us could — or would — change. It was not possible. We were different but in dialogue. That was progress.

Neither man changed his views. Windmeyer did not agree with Cathy’s Christian views, and Cathy did not condone Windmeyer’s lifestyle. But, Chick-fil-a ceased to fund the most divisive anti-LGBT groups in favor of marriage enrichment, youth and local communities. Campus Pride dropped their campaign.

In my mind, this is true tolerance: to respect the other enough to hear them out, understand their views, feel sorrow for wrongs and right them where possible, and love them as a person, not a stereotype. That is the person I would like to be.

I believe that there will come a time where standing for the truth will be inescapably offensive, but I do not believe that must be the norm. Does that make me weak? Maybe. I will continue to explore this. But in the meantime, I wish to emulate the words of St. Francis of Assisi:

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is error, truth;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Read the full Huffington Post article by Shane L. Windmeyer at:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/shane-l-windmeyer/dan-cathy-chick-fil-a_b_2564379.html

Warning: Life in Progress

(Written at 12:30 last night)

I hit the wall tonight. Maybe it was triggered when I took apart my coating machine, cleaned it and put it together again only to have it not work. Six hours of work down the drain. Perhaps it was the politicking of my coworkers. Or, maybe I’m just tired. But I took a nosedive.  Energy: gone.  Tear ducts: primed and ready.

I’ve been flying high for a few weeks now—working hard, making changes, learning, and having fun. But today I read my sheet of goals, looked at my bank records, saw the year ticking away, and realized that I was no where near where I wanted to be.

Keeping score on myself sucks.

Before I kept score I thought I was doing pretty good—above average for sure, Maybe even great. And now I’m horrible.

I’m nowhere near hitting my goals for the month. I don’t know what I was thinking when I set them—obviously I didn’t think I was going to plateau/get stuck on almost EVERYTHING.

And who decided I should set a budget? Damn it, I’m going to keep this budget if it kills me, and it just might. I had no idea I was wasting so much money!

There isn’t enough time to read all the books I want to read AND write AND network on social media AND keep up the housework (though I wouldn’t mind letting that go…).

I’m eating healthier but I’m still fat. I’m saving money but I still can’t afford a car, and winter is coming fast–can’t ride the bike then, not in Manitoba.  I’m improving at my job, but I’m still a long way from competency. I might have been able to catch the mechanical error tonight, but I wasn’t confident in what I was doing.

Well, I DON’T give up.

By the grace of God, tomorrow will be a new day. I am reminded that, first, it has always been in my lowest moments that God has provided for me in the biggest ways. This isn’t the first time I’ve thought I was a lost cause. Second, I don’t have to get my life together immediately. It would be rather nauseating for y’all if I did.

This life is a work in progress. Have I done my best? YES. I have never done better than now. Well, then there is no more to ask of myself. It’s probably time to take a break, relax and rest up.  So, with that, I’m going to bed.

My Beautiful History

Whenever you run away
Whenever you lose your faith
It’s just another stroke of
The pen on the page
A lonely ray of hope
Is all that you need to see
A beautiful history

I went through the valley this spring. It began with stress at work caused by underperformance and some relational issues there. Fear multiplied mistakes, and mistakes multiplied relational strain. It got to a point that I would be sick to my stomach at work and depressed at home. Finally I quit the job (or was voluntarily terminated, depending how you look at it). I left with a lot of anger and bitterness in my heart. Some might say it was justified, but I’m not proud of how long it’s taken to forgive.

I floundered for five weeks, searching for work and not finding it, trying to make sense of what happened, trying to find things to do with myself, trying to find casual work to pay the bills. How do you write a compelling resume or sell yourself at an interview when you’ve royally screwed up the last job? It seemed no one wanted me, or that’s what I told myself.

You shouldn’t always listen to what you tell yourself, by the way.

Then things seemed to fall into place. I had a couple interviews. I found a part-time job. I got some temporary work. I was offered a summer job.

Yet it was confusing. Of the two interviews, I was certain both would offer me a job. I negotiated time to wait with the summer job. Of the two jobs, one was for an egg packing company at minimum wage and bad hours. The other was at a pharmaceutical manufacturing plant with good hours and good pay. I really wanted that one, but they wouldn’t give me an answer. I prayed and asked for advice, and decided to turn down the egg job.

Wouldn’t you?

They called and offered. I turned them down. I bawled my eyes out. Here had been a job at my fingertips and I had turned it down? “Am I crazy?” I wailed, pacing around in my apartment. “God, you led me here. Don’t let me down now.”

And then I had my accident, which I chronicled in The Funny Version. And there I was laid up, unable to work. I remember lying on the stretcher in the hospital and going “God, what are you doing? What are you doing?”

Paying my bills was what He was doing.
Within a short time I had money from workers compensation, and the paycheque from the temp job. Suddenly my rent and my credit card bills were paid. I was in pain and I was functionally useless, but I was taken care of. I was also employed. About a week after my accident, while I was visiting with my Grandma, I was called and hired for the job I’d wanted. Start date, about a month after. I also spoke to my boss at the temporary job and he said I could come back to work until the new job started.

I just had to get well, and that took about three weeks.

My friend Amanda and I recently reminisced about when we’d worked together at the job I quit—the one where I’d been sick and depressed. I opened up to her about what had happened to me at that job. Our experiences there were very different, but neither of us work there anymore.

“But if we hadn’t worked there we wouldn’t have met,” she said. And that’s true. I gained a dear friend from that job I messed up.

After Amanda and I parted ways, I gave it some more thought and realized there were a few big perks to losing that job. For instance, I was able to get a part time job at a clothing store. I really enjoy that job, but I also get great discounts on clothes. I love fashion, but after a couple years of college, a low-paying job, and unemployment, my wardrobe was quite depleted. Now it’s… not.

And the other job is much better paying and has benefits—I cringe when I say that because it sounds so middle class and mediocre and apathetic, but when you need a grand in dental work… And this job has plenty of room for me to grow into it.

And, I’ve gained new friends at the places I work.

And I had time to start a blog while I was unemployed, which is my pride and joy.

And I learned about communication, honesty and clarifying expectations.

I am hesitant to get too optimistic, because I was really optimistic about the old job and it turned out to be hell on earth. I grieve for my loss of trust and loss of relationships. But I trust that as I go forward, I will see how these speed bumps and spike strips on the road were pushing me toward something better.

I’ll look back and see my beautiful history.

By the way, I’m not saying all of this to make you feel sorry for me.  I’m trying to tell you that God’s been good to me, and all that I’ve gone through (which is minor compared to what some have experienced) has been used to make me a stronger person, and to increase my faith.  I hope that this account is an encouragement to you.