A co-worker and I were putting together some Ikea office shelves. Furniture assemblage wasn’t in my job description as Survivorship Coordinator in the cancer center. But we sort of knew what we were doing.
A couple days earlier, this same co-worker/friend had mentioned a concern about a new boyfriend who wasn’t good at communicating or responding to her texts.
“Do you believe God answers prayer?” she asked out of the blue as we were finishing up our little side job.
“I do,” I responded. I paused and then spoke my thoughts out loud. “I wonder if people think of prayer as simply asking God for things. And when we don’t get what we want, then we believe God doesn’t hear us. Or he doesn’t like us. Or he has no power to answer prayer.”
I explained to my co-worker how my faith in God was based on a relationship, not rules. And that prayer wasn’t about approaching him with my wants and needs in a one-sided conversation. It was also about sitting still in God’s presence, unburdening my heart, listening for his voice, speaking gratitude and love to him.
“Take you and Aaron, for example,” I said, referring to her earlier comment about the new boyfriend. “You’re frustrated. It’s because a relationship works best when the communication is moving in both directions.”
As my co-worker and I finished assembling the shelves, I trusted God to use my words however he wanted.
What do we look like?
Meanwhile, my husband, a data processing manager of a large business, found himself unemployed when the company sold. He ended up dumbing down his résumé and finally got a job that paid a fraction of what he previously earned with no benefits.
And now he was dying of cancer. It was an uncertain, scary time for me. We had already sold our home and cashed out our 401(k) to make ends meet during the two-year period of his unemployment.
We were now in our middle years, and I was facing the bleak future of being widowed with strained finances and no cushion against retirement.
My closest co-workers were aware of our situation, aware that my future looked unstable. In time, peace dominated my daylight hours, knowing that none of these losses caught God by surprise.
I still carried the weight of sorrow, but it was inexplicably mixed with peace, not knowing that my co-workers were watching me as I watched my husband diminish with each passing day.
It was a bittersweet moment when he took one final breath and let it out in a slow exhale, followed by complete silence. He was no longer rasping for breath, no longer struggling with cancer pain. He was safely in the arms of Jesus. But I was bereaved, left behind, labeled a widow, alone to figure out my finances, having just lost half my income.
The same friend who helped put together the Ikea shelves attended my husband’s Celebration of Life service, along with several co-workers and the cancer community we served. The church auditorium had been decorated for the upcoming holiday season. Christmas trees were swathed in white lights. Poinsettias lined the edge of the platform. It was simple yet elegant with the presence of God bathing everything in beautiful peace.
Humorous stories and memories were shared by my husband’s siblings and his friends as laughter rang out across the auditorium. My son-in-law, a pastor, explained to our guests how we could carry joy and laughter at the same time we held sorrow—because of our salvation through Jesus Christ and the hope that we would see our loved ones again.
My young co-worker/friend approached me afterward to say it was the best funeral service she’d ever attended. I knew it was because of the sweet spirit of God permeating the place.
I wouldn’t wish loss of a loved one on anyone. But this turned out to be a wonderful opportunity to witness of God’s love to my co-workers who watched me walk through the slow dying of my husband.
Show, don’t tell
We have no idea what we look like to nonbelieving family members, co-workers, neighbors, and friends who may be watching our lives more closely than we realize.
Even in a work space where sharing one’s faith is discouraged, people can’t help but see the beauty and peace and joy of the Father in his children when we walk according to his Word. And I believe this draws out in them a hunger and thirst for that same deep peace and contentment.
John, the Apostle, wrote a letter addressed to new believers in what is modern-day Turkey. In it, he left these instructions:
“Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.” – 1 John 3:18
People don’t necessarily want to be preached at. They don’t want to hear our words so much as they need to observe what a Christ follower’s life could look like. They need to see how a believer manages the stress and strain of life’s troubles.
Keeping in mind that our actions speak louder than our words—although our words can also commend or condemn us—here are 3 suggestions for honoring Christ as a believer in the workplace:
Serve in kindness and compassion. Consider going above and beyond the call of duty. This could look like helping carry the load of another co-worker when they’re going through a challenging or stressful situation. Or it could look like assembling Ikea furniture when it’s not in your job description.
Collaborate in humility. For the most part, we don’t accomplish our workplace successes on our own. Even if we’re the team leader on a specific project or task, work in partnership with humility. Recognize and give credit where credit is due.
Watch our words. Whether it’s gossiping, complaining, or words of disrespect about co-workers or superiors, what comes out of our mouths speaks loudly about what’s in our hearts. Gossip, whining, and disrespect aren’t pretty. They cloud the beauty and peace and joy of Jesus Christ that would normally shine from us.
How we live and cooperate and serve and what comes out of our mouths speaks loudly of who we really are. It speaks of what’s in our hearts. And that’s important to our nonbelieving friends and family. It’s important because our actions are a powerful message for good … or for the negative. It’s important because our actions honor Jesus … or they don’t.
When peace reigns in our lives—especially through the hard and holy moments—then Christ shines through us.
Maybe it’s not about what we say in an environment where we’re not allowed to share our faith. Maybe it’s more about how we love.
