Studio52Seven

It often begins quietly: the rot of normalcy and the defeat of the courage to stand out.

A colleague takes credit for your work. A supervisor changes what is expected of you just as you were about to exhale. The system appears to condone people who take liberties, whereas integrity feels expensive. Frustrated by how unjust the system is, you ask the unspoken question that many good-meaning people ask in the workplace: Will doing what is right cost me too much? How much more can I take before it’s time to demand “my” pound of flesh or, at the very least, take revenge?

There is a moral, cultural, institutional, and psychological decay that is festering, not in crisis, but within what society considers “normal” in the workplace.

The American workplace reflects the soul of its surrounding culture—radically individualistic, fiercely competitive, and relentlessly transactional. Success is measured by personal gain, leverage, and survival. People become expendable. Ethics become negotiable. Even where guardrails and laws are in place to ensure equity and fairness, those who discover and exploit loopholes and “opportunities” are regarded as smart. And this hostile culture is becoming a global norm. Leadership, stripped of moral vision, becomes little more than influence without responsibility. Yet Scripture reminds us that to whom much is given, much will be required. Opportunity is never permission for self-interest; it is always a summons to stewardship.

One of the most corrosive forces in our work lives is unmanaged expectation. We expect fairness from broken systems, gratitude from imperfect people, and loyalty from institutions designed primarily for efficiency and profit, not care. With our expectations largely unmet, resentment from feeling cheated hardens our hearts. But the Bible prepares us for this reality. It does not deny human fickleness; it calls us to lead ourselves well in the midst of it. Our faithfulness is not validated by applause, promotion, or protection, but by obedience before God, who calls us to do whatever we find our hands doing as unto Him—sacred or secular.

Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son exposes this truth through the elder brother. He stayed. He labored. He obeyed. And yet when grace disrupted his sense of fairness, bitterness surfaced. The father’s response is revealing: “You are always with me, and everything I have is yours.” That tinge of disappointment in the father’s words was not because the elder son lacked diligence but because of his disposition. The father expected more—not more productivity, but more mercy. In God’s economy, leadership is revealed not by how strictly we keep score, but by how fully we mirror the Father’s heart.

We expect fairness from broken systems, gratitude from imperfect people, and loyalty from institutions designed primarily for efficiency and profit, not care. With our expectations largely unmet, resentment from feeling cheated hardens our hearts.

Jesus presses this understanding of the father’s heart even further in Luke 6:32–36. Loving those who love us, helping those who we are sure will return the favor, or giving where repayment is assured requires no spiritual depth. Even sinners do that. But Jesus commands us to something higher: love your enemies, do good to them, and lend without expecting anything in return. Do the work you agreed to do with all your heart and soul and might, despite the nonchalance of your colleagues and zero recognition from management. In an honor-shame culture, like the one where Jesus’ original hearers lived, such behavior looked like weakness. In reality, it was an act of holy defiance. Jesus was not offering moral advice; He was overturning the world’s definition of power.

Today’s workplace culture preaches a different gospel:

• Cancel those who hurt you
• Take advantage of opportunities and loopholes before someone else does
• Protect your interests at all costs
• Be the dog that eats the other dog
• Besides, all is fair in love and war, and this is war.

Those who resist this logic are often dismissed as naïve or foolish. We justify ourselves by blaming “the system,” forgetting that they are simply groups of people—often vulnerable people—who we may reclassify as enemies or collateral damage.

Here, the Christian calling becomes unmistakably apostolic. We are not merely invited to be ethical; we are commanded to be different. Christian leadership refuses to dehumanize, even when dehumanization is profitable. It chooses mercy where retaliation is applauded, integrity where compromise is rewarded, and generosity where fear and insecurity govern decisions. Such expectations from Christian leadership are not weaknesses. They are the signs of courage borne out of that apostolic conviction that God designed the human-work experience and sees what systems ignore, rewards what culture mocks, and honors what obedience costs.

To lead this way, whether from the C-suite or the shop floor, is costly. But it is also holy, and that is what is required of those to whom much has been given. Enjoy your holiday, freshen up for a beautiful 2026, and go lead with a difference. Merry Christmas and a blessed new year.

Photo Courtesy: Vitaly Gariev on Unsplash