“You are really arrogant.”
Several years back, I sat knee-to-knee, facing a colleague as I explained our new system, process, and—what I thought—improvement to our team’s organization. I spent weeks putting it together. Like any young leader, I had energy to roll it out.
What followed was disappointment. Long conversations. Desires to walk out.
And, someone calling me arrogant to my face.
(I don’t know how I come across in these emails, but I don’t think that is a word commonly associated with me.)
I gave genuine effort in the right direction for the betterment of a team, and I was greeted with setbacks, difficulty, tired souls.
Have you ever felt like that? Just beating your head against the wall?
Your calculations should produce the right result.
The engine should turn over.
Revenue should be higher.
Why does the computer work one day and the next day IT is asking: “Have you tried turning it off and back on?”
Genesis foreshadows these frustrations:
“. . . cursed is the ground . . . thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you . . . [b]y the sweat of your face you shall eat bread . . .”
Our work is cursed.
Your frustration, the confusion, the frequent disappointment—it doesn’t always mean that you are doing something wrong. You can be in the right seat and still butt up against a wall.
In Tim Keller’s masterful words: “Work, even when it bears fruit, is always painful, often miscarries, and sometimes kills us.”
Our working peace is not contingent on finding our passion.
The salesman who “never works a day in his life” is lying.
Your co-worker isn’t always at fault.
“Arrogant.” It broke me. I remember ignoring phone calls all day as I tried to understand. I don’t think he was right. But I don’t think he was wrong either. Even two good people can get caught up in the curse.
Our work was cursed in the garden. And that’s okay. Not every problem has an immediate fix. God did this.
But wait . . . He did this? Is He cruel?
Or does He have something beautiful for us in the thorns?