Failing the Next Generation on Faith and Work

Many pastors and social commentators have noted the irony of Labor Day in the United States, that we celebrate work by…not working. One of my church elders loved to begin talks on faith and work with the $64,000,000 question.[i] The question was simple: “If I gave you $64,000,000 today, would you be at work tomorrow?” As you can imagine, the answer was almost universally, “No!” Most modern workers would not keep their current employment if they were wealthy enough not to need it. By and large, people do not like their work.

To combat that empirical observation, coaches and mentors raise an array of well-meaning platitudes.  “Find a job you love, and you’ll never work another day in your life.” “Follow your passion.” “Don’t settle.” And many others.

All these platitudes are—platitudinally—true and useful, maybe even necessary for a generation of workers that seemingly hates, or at best suffers, its work, yet they risk “fighting the last war.” Just as modern armies are always learning from the last war, but then usually unprepared for the innovations of the one to come, often the church responds to the challenges of one generation by lurching too far to the opposite side of the right biblical balance.

It is a good thing to like one’s work, a blessing and a gift from God to enjoy what we do and for God to prosper it. To aspire to such an Eden is a great and wonderful thing and, again, probably necessary to emphasize to a generation that has felt its soul sucked out through its keyboard.

But could the medicine for the past generation prove to be wrong for the next? How many college graduates are now insisting on a job they love right out of school, unwilling to grind it out to advance? How many young employees expect to walk in and have the highest levels of interest, input, and fulfillment, even though they are entry-level at their company? How many managers find themselves despairing of even finding someone who will show up on time? Managers are simply getting fed up. As we advise youth and young adults about finding a job they can love, might we be making them unfit for the real world, the one in which we actually work, the one that will simply fire them if they do not know how to show up on time, work hard, and earn their way up?

Here, we must remember that work is “between the times,” part of the “already/not yet.” We live with the old age of sin and death still present, though passing away, and the age to come already here, inaugurated but not fully complete. Biblically, the church gets in trouble when it forgets that fact. In 1 Corinthians 4:8–13 Paul sarcastically mocked the Corinthians who wanted to live as if they were already the fulness of the age to come, free from sinful inclinations. In 2 Thessalonians 3:6–12 he rebuked those who used their expectation of Jesus’ imminent return as an excuse to cease work.

When God made work in the Garden (Genesis 2:15), we have every reason to believe it was good and perfect, that it fit Adam and that he enjoyed his labor. With the fall (Gen. 3:17–19) work became painful struggle. With Jesus’ first coming, the age to come has broken in (Mark 1:14–15), but only when he returns will all things be made new (Revelation 21:1–6).

Theologians often talk about the coming of the kingdom of God in Jesus with the term “inaugurated eschatology,” though church members often hear the concept more via the aforementioned lingo of “between the times,” “the overlap of the ages,” or “the already/not yet.”  All three phrases summarize the biblical reality that when Jesus came incarnate, he brought the kingdom of God in a way that surprised his contemporaries.

Those who had grown up on the Old Testament prophets had grand visions of what would happen when God’s people returned from exile. The changes would be cosmic, ushering in a time of deep blessing. Two famous passages from the book of Isaiah illustrate the hope and expectation well:

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion— to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified. They shall build up the ancient ruins; they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations. Strangers shall stand and tend your flocks; foreigners shall be your plowmen and vinedressers; but you shall be called the priests of the Lord; they shall speak of you as the ministers of our God; you shall eat the wealth of the nations, and in their glory you shall boast. Instead of your shame there shall be a double portion; instead of dishonor they shall rejoice in their lot; therefore in their land they shall possess a double portion; they shall have everlasting joy. (Isaiah 61:1–7)

“For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth, and the former things shall not be remembered or come into mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in that which I create; for behold, I create Jerusalem to be a joy, and her people to be a gladness. I will rejoice in Jerusalem and be glad in my people; no more shall be heard in it the sound of weeping and the cry of distress. No more shall there be in it an infant who lives but a few days, or an old man who does not fill out his days, for the young man shall die a hundred years old, and the sinner a hundred years old shall be accursed. They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat; for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be, and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands. They shall not labor in vain or bear children for calamity, for they shall be the offspring of the blessed of the Lord, and their descendants with them. Before they call I will answer; while they are yet speaking I will hear. The wolf and the lamb shall graze together; the lion shall eat straw like the ox, and dust shall be the serpent’s food. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain,” says the Lord. (Isaiah 65:17–25)

Living on this side of the cross, it is easy to miss the physical nature of Isaiah’s vision. He envisions real people eating real food and drinking real wine, living in real houses. What does this have to do with faith and work? Everything—because the main industry in Israel at the time, as with every nation in the Iron Age, was almost entirely agriculture. Isaiah’s vision was one in which people would farm and see the benefit, tend a vineyard and watch it bear a bumper crop, bring home enough production to raise their children well, who could take over the family business after them. Among the many ways Isaiah’s vision was that of deep blessing was that of industry—agriculture—working as it should. When the exile ended, that was a major feature of the biblical hope.

And yet, historical realities were quite different. While there was an Old Testament return from exile for Israel, Isaiah’s visions did not come to pass at that point in history. Israel still lived under foreign domination, with trouble often on every side (e.g.: Nehemiah 2 and 4). The great Isaianic vision was hoped for, but still to come. Habakkuk offered the same vision to the returnees (Hab. 2), yet eventual unfaithfulness left it pushed out to the distant future (Daniel 9). Doubtless, some gave up and considered Isaiah’s vision a mirage, possibly even a false prophecy. Others hung on to the hope, the dream it must have seemed, that someday God would come and make Isaiah’s vision come true.

Jesus consciously and clearly declared that he was bringing Isaiah’s vision to pass, quoting the same Isaiah 61 passage above:

And he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up. And as was his custom, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, and he stood up to read. And the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” And he rolled up the scroll and gave it back to the attendant and sat down. And the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. And he began to say to them, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” (Luke 4:16–21)

And yet, again, historical realities still seemed quite different. Isaiah’s vision included freedom from enemy political oppressors, even conquering those oppressors (Is. 14:1–2), yet the Romans still ruled the land. Isaiah’s vision included prosperity for all, yet poverty remained. Isaiah’s vision included a world physically transformed, yet Jesus walked around teaching, saying his kingdom was not of this world.

In fact, when discussing the kingdom of God, Jesus talked about images of slow growth, not sudden miraculous change:

He put another parable before them, saying, “The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown it is larger than all the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.” He told them another parable. “The kingdom of heaven is like leaven that a woman took and hid in three measures of flour, till it was all leavened.” (Matthew 13:31–33)

How could this be Isaiah’s vision?

Even those who followed Jesus as disciples had trouble grasping this. Their expectation was a return of the kingdom to Israel, one that involved immediate political success and economic prosperity. It seemed the manifestly clear way to read Isaiah. And yet Jesus started talking about the kingdom as a mustard seed. And then he died. On a cross, no less. At the hands of Roman oppressors, and even with the leaders in Jerusalem complicit, rejected by his own people, those he came to save. How could this be Isaiah’s vision?

After the resurrection, Jesus’ disciples thought that now, finally, they understood. The promise and the victory were even more than they could have dreamed. They had finally come, only after three years, to understand who he truly was. The crucifixion had scrambled that all. They left and went back to fishing. But after the resurrection, now they finally saw it! Jesus was doing all Isaiah had seen, and he was doing it by conquering death itself! So, it must be time for the rest. Consider the question they ask in Acts 1:

So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” He said to them, “It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.” And when he had said these things, as they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. And while they were gazing into heaven as he went, behold, two men stood by them in white robes, and said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.” (Acts 1:6–11)

Yet, Jesus confounded them again and sent them back to Jerusalem to wait. He said he would return, someday, to finish the work. Even the way he taught them to pray—“Our Father in heaven, (we pray that) your kingdom (would) come…”—indicated there as also a future nature to that kingdom, even though Jesus had declared the kingdom was already here.

The theologian Oscar Cullman pulled this together under the aforementioned term inaugurated eschatology. As I wrote once before, he suggested an analogy to help understand this New Testament perspective, that of D-Day and VE-Day. Once Allied troops established a secure beachhead in Normandy, once they began pouring in men, munitions, and supplies, the ultimate outcome of World War II in Europe was assured, Allied victory. Nonetheless, D-Day was June 6, 1944, and VE-Day, the complete victory in Europe, was not until May 8, 1945. In between lay some of the most brutal fighting of the war, including the Battle of the Bulge and other terrible struggles. Though the victory of the Allied cause was assured, the actual end of the war remained in the future. This, Cullman said, is an analogy to help understand the kingdom of God in the New Testament: with Christ’s death and resurrection, the victory of the kingdom of God was assured, but only with his second coming will the victory be complete. As with World War II, the time between the two is an oscillating war zone, a war between Christ’s kingdom and the devil’s kingdom, the war amidst which we live our daily lives.

The past weeks provide another analogy, that of the transition from one United States Presidential administration to another. The President is elected in early November, technically “the Tuesday next after the first Monday in November,” yet only takes the oath of office and actually becomes president on January 20. In a very real sense, there seem to be, for 10–12 weeks, two presidents, one incoming and one outgoing, but both with actual power and influence. The influence and weight of the elected president is already keenly felt. The impact of his or her administration is already present and impacting policy. And yet, he or she is not yet president. Someone else holds the authority of the office, still able to issue executive orders, still holding even the nuclear football. The old administration is inevitably passing away, and the new one inevitably entering, yet every four or eight years, Washington D.C. lives in the overlap of two ages.

Both analogies help explain the Christian life, how it is that Jesus has brought the kingdom of God. With his victory over Satan, sin, and death on the cross, Jesus has fundamentally changed everything (D-Day), yet the completeness of that change will only be manifest in his second coming (VE-Day). Between the two, we live in a world in which sin still has impact and power, even if defeated.

Work, then, like all of the Christian life, still suffers under the curse. Work is hard, difficult, thorns and thistles because of Genesis 3. God began undoing the curse even with the covenant with Noah, providing “seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winer, day and night,” the natural regularity essential to wringing crops from the ground (Gen. 8:22). All the more, as Christ has come, the curse is beaten back. But only when Christ comes again will sin and punishment—and the thorns and thistles of work—be fully vanquished.

This means work can be great, even enjoyable. Nothing is wrong with aspiring towards that end. Decades ago, as a teen driving across the Southwest with my family, my father and I bumped into some archaeologists in a motel parking lot loading up their tools on a Saturday morning. Learning that this was their work, my father asked, “But wait, it’s Saturday. Is this fun or work?” One replied, “Well, it’s hard to tell the difference.” We can aspire to jobs we love, and getting one is a great blessing.

Yet, we also must recognize that while work can be great, there is no guarantee it will be great until Jesus returns and makes all things new. Only then will it be fair and right to assume we should have a job in which work is fun and fun is work. Until then, we will still also labor under the fall. To insist on a perfectly enjoyable job now is to pretend we live in the world to come, not the world God’s Word tells us we actually inhabit.

Until Jesus returns, then, we must understand that work will still involve struggle, and to teach ourselves and those we mentor that to expect otherwise is to prepare them to live in an imaginary world, not to live with a biblical realism. If we do not teach that, we are failing the next generation with the very faith and work ministries meant to serve them.

[i] A variant of the original $64,000 question.  See https://washingtoninst.org/because-i-want-to/.