“So what are you doing for work, Evan?” Aunt Nikki asked, passing the peas. It was Christmas dinner. The entire Georgia family had gathered under one roof to celebrate Christ, play cards, and consume cranberry sauce. I was sitting at the “adult table.” The usual range of subjects was running the table: current events, school, how unusually cold the winter was that year, and, inevitably, work.

Normally, these questions wouldn’t faze me. However, my cousin Joel had reported that his third rental property was finally filled out. Nick, my brother, secured his first nursing job with twice the pay and hours as my current gig, not including the sign-on bonus. Marci, the eldest grandchild, received another promotion at her accounting firm. Everyone was crushing it.

Meanwhile, I was a window washer in the city of Chicago. As a Bible college student juggling a ministry internship, my first year of marriage, and verbal aspect in Koine Greek, I appreciated that the work gave me scheduling flexibility and something akin to a creative outlet. I found satisfaction in perfecting the simple yet artful technique of sliding a squeegee. It was almost the perfect job.

However, the manual labor and freezing temperatures were battering my body. Chicago’s biting winds tore through my Moosejaw jacket like a child unwrapping a PS5 on Christmas morning. And the repetitive pulling motions twisted deep, painful knots between my shoulder blades.

I was outclassed by the others in both pay and prestige. I took a nervous swig from my apple juice and replied, “I’m still washing windows.” The floodgate of questions burst open:

“How much does that pay?”

“Have you considered starting your own business?”

“I know a guy in the city; do you want another job?”

As I answered the surge of questions, I caught a sentiment of confusion and disappointment from my family members. They wanted me to aim big, pursue my goals, and realize my full potential. Washing windows felt like settling or, worse, complacency. I felt that my life’s trajectory had dipped below the line of expectation. I left the table feeling crushed.

Seeking Better

That night, a diabolical germ drifted through the air amid the smell of biscuits and gravy. It was the lie that my worth lay in my work. I believed that lie, and it infected my soul. The joy from my simple line of work was stolen. I decided it was time to retire the squeegee and soaker.

My family wanted me to aim big, pursue my goals, and realize my full potential. Washing windows felt like settling or, worse, complacency.

As winter closed and the year sprang toward summer, I went back to the job board. I applied to any job I could find, and pulled a few connections from school and church. I even cold-called employers asking for a position. Most leads were either dead ends or not the right fit, but some were promising. Some leads turned into one lead. Then one turned to none. The deadline for a decision had come, and I’d come up comically empty-handed. Despite my best efforts, I simply couldn’t find another job. The Lord had closed all the doors of opportunity, making it clear he wanted me to stay put.

But why? Why was everyone landing the ideal summer internship or getting the dream job while I was left overworked and underpaid? I was frustrated and confused, and my soul was sick with bitterness and envy. But deep down, I knew the problem wasn’t in washing the windows. It was the man who stood before them. So I searched the Scriptures for answers and reflected on the life of our Lord.

Measures of Success

Jesus’s baptism called out to me from the valley of the Jordan. As Christ descended into the waters, the heavens were opened and a voice from heaven boomed, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased” (Mark 1:11). At that time, Jesus had done nothing extraordinary.

Before any water was turned into wine or any sick man was healed, God the Father was well pleased with his beloved Son. A couple of miracles later, Jesus ascended Mount Tabor and received the same words: “This is my beloved Son” (9:7). The Father’s love for his Son remained unchanged, regardless of what he did. God was just as delighted with his Son whether he was a woodworker or a miracle worker.

Before any water was turned into wine or any sick man was healed, God the Father was well pleased with his beloved Son.

Those words were a healing balm to my sickened soul. I was reminded that a successful career isn’t six figures, working from home, or a good insurance plan. Success is obedience. For our Lord, obedience looked like 30 years of manual labor in a backwater town. For this season of my life, success looks like washing windows on the streets of Chicago. The Father is pleased by both. This gospel truth cured my bitterness and restlessness and restored my joy.

Loved by God

Christians will find joy in their work by obeying the Father even when it’s hard. We’re most satisfied in God when we’re most surrendered to his will. The Father wasn’t specifically pleased with carpentry or Jesus’s public ministry. He was delighted in Christ’s obedience. While man looks at the outward appearance, God looks at the heart. We pursue skill, status, or stuff, thinking those might please God and bring us joy. However, the deepest delight is experiencing the Father’s love, even in our work.

God may call us to an esteemed post in his kingdom. But most often, he calls us to the hard and unexciting work. And that takes humility. The progress of others will still sting when I have seemingly none of my own to report at the Christmas table. God continues to work on my heart through his Word and Spirit. But when I’m tempted to despair, I look to Jesus and his baptism, and I hear the Father sweetly say to me, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” And that’s enough for me.