Is Your Job Sacred? Rethinking the Theology of Calling
“So what do you do?”
“I'm just a teacher,” Sarah said, that familiar apologetic tone creeping into her voice. “I mean, I'm not in ministry or anything. Just working a regular job.”
I've heard variations of this conversation dozens of times. The youth pastor introducing himself at a church gathering gets knowing nods and interested questions. Sarah gets a polite smile and a pivot to someone else. There's an unspoken hierarchy at work, a quiet assumption that some callings matter more to God than others.
We've created a two-tiered system in the modern church: the sacred and the secular, the spiritual and the ordinary, those in “full-time ministry” and everyone else. And for most Christians, this divide doesn't just affect how they introduce themselves at church—it shapes how they view 40, 50, 60 hours of their week. If your work isn't “ministry work,” is it really a calling at all?
The Problem We've Inherited
Walk into most evangelical churches and you'll feel it. Missionaries receive special commissioning services. Pastoral staff get offices with their names on the door. Meanwhile, the software engineer, the nurse, the small business owner—they're appreciated for their tithes and their availability to volunteer, but their daily work? That's just what pays the bills.
This isn't a new problem. In fact, it's an old problem that we thought we'd solved five hundred years ago.
What the Reformation Recovered
When Martin Luther nailed his theses to the church door in Wittenberg, he wasn't just challenging indulgences. He was dismantling an entire worldview that had divided humanity into spiritual athletes (monks, priests, nuns) and everyone else.
Luther's doctrine of vocation was radical: a dairy maid milking cows to the glory of God was doing work just as sacred as a monk praying in his cell. In fact, Luther argued, the maid was probably doing more good for her neighbor. Here was a seismic shift—every legitimate calling, every honest profession, was holy ground.
This wasn't just abstract theology. It reshaped society. Suddenly, ordinary work mattered. The cobbler could see his craft as service to God. The magistrate could govern as a divine calling. Work wasn't merely a distraction from the spiritual life; it was central to it.
But somewhere between then and now, we've drifted back. We've recreated the very categories the Reformers worked to dismantle.
What Scripture Actually Says
When we turn to Scripture, we don't find a sacred-secular divide. We find something much richer.
Work existed before sin entered the world. In Genesis 1-2, before the fall, God places humanity in a garden to work it and keep it. The cultural mandate—to fill the earth, to cultivate and create—was given in paradise. Work isn't part of the curse; only its frustration and futility are. This means work itself is woven into God's good design for human flourishing.
God cares about all our work. Paul's instruction in Colossians 3:23-24 doesn't come with a list of approved professions: “Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward.” Whatever you do. The spreadsheet. The sales call. The surgical procedure. The legal brief.
Calling isn't just about career. In 1 Corinthians 7, Paul uses “calling” language not primarily for jobs but for life situations—married or single, slave or free. His surprising advice? “Each person should remain in the situation they were in when God called them” (v. 20). There's no assumption that becoming a Christian means leaving your work behind unless that work itself is inherently sinful.
Scripture celebrates diverse vocations. Look at the variety of callings God honors: Joseph the administrator, Daniel the government official, Lydia the businesswoman, Luke the physician, Paul the tentmaker. Even Jesus spent most of his earthly life as a carpenter, not a traveling preacher. God doesn't just tolerate these professions—he orchestrates them, uses them, sanctifies them.
But What About...?
I know the objections because I've felt them myself.
“Doesn't Jesus call us to leave everything and follow him?” Yes, he does (Matthew 19:29, Luke 14:33). But notice what the disciples left—they left their nets to become fishers of men, but Peter still owned a house. Luke left his practice to travel with Jesus, but he used his medical skills along the way. The call to discipleship is absolute, but it doesn't always mean abandoning your profession. Sometimes it means transforming how you approach it.
“Isn't evangelism the main thing?” Sharing the gospel is certainly central to Christian life. But here's the paradox: faithful, excellent work often creates the platform and credibility for gospel witness in ways that abandoning your profession might not. The engineer who serves her colleagues with integrity, the teacher who pours into his students with genuine care—they're living apologetics. Their work becomes witness not despite being ordinary, but precisely because it is.
“What about morally ambiguous industries?” This is a real question, and I won't pretend it's simple. Some work is clearly incompatible with Christian faithfulness. But most work exists in that complex middle space where wisdom, discernment, and community input matter. The bartender, the defense attorney, the marketing executive—these require thoughtful engagement, not blanket dismissals. The doctrine of vocation doesn't eliminate moral reasoning; it elevates the importance of thinking carefully about our work.
What Changes When We Get This Right
When Christians truly embrace the sacredness of ordinary work, everything shifts.
Monday morning looks different. That budget report isn't just bureaucratic busywork—it's stewarding resources God has entrusted to your organization. The difficult conversation with a colleague isn't a distraction from “spiritual” things—it's an opportunity to embody Christlike patience and truth-telling. You're not waiting for Sunday to do something that matters; you're already in the thick of your calling.
Career decisions get reframed. Not every Christian needs to be angling toward “ministry.” If you're gifted in finance, skilled in medicine, passionate about education—these aren't consolation prizes. They might be exactly where God wants you, not as a holding pattern until you figure out your “real” calling, but as the calling itself.
Church culture becomes more honest. Imagine a church where the entrepreneur is honored for business integrity the way we honor missionaries for their sacrifice. Where the stay-at-home parent's work is celebrated as genuine ministry. Where “So what do you do?” is asked with genuine curiosity about how God is at work in every corner of his world. Serving in a ministry no longer feels like a sacred extension out of the hours from “secular” work.
Our witness expands. When Christians see their work as sacred, they don't retreat from the world—they engage it with excellence, creativity, and integrity. They become salt and light not by escaping into Christian subcultures but by being faithfully present in every sphere of society.
The Apologetic Dimension
Here's why this matters for apologetics: the sacred-secular divide doesn't just harm Christians—it undermines our witness to the world.
When we suggest that only “religious” work really matters to God, we imply that God doesn't care about most of human life. We make him seem small, interested only in a narrow slice of existence. But the Christian story is bigger than that. It claims that the God who became incarnate cares about all of creation, that nothing human is outside his concern.
When Christians live as though their ordinary work is sacred—when they pursue excellence not for personal advancement but as an act of worship, when they serve their neighbors through their professions, when they work for human flourishing in a thousand quiet ways—they bear witness to a God who is at work in all of life.
The teacher who shapes young minds with patience and wisdom, the architect who designs spaces for human flourishing, the small business owner who treats employees with dignity—they're all doing apologetics. They're showing that the Christian faith doesn't require us to escape the world but to engage it fully, faithfully, gratefully.
Just a Teacher
So when Sarah says “I'm just a teacher,” something in me wants to stop her mid-sentence.
You're not “just” anything. You're a woman called by God to shape the next generation. You're teaching children to read, to think, to wonder. You're bearing witness to a God who values truth and beauty and human development. You're working in one of the most sacred spaces there is—the formation of young souls.
Your work isn't a distraction from your calling. It is your calling.
And that changes everything.