Living from the Gospel at Work

When Work Becomes the Measure of the Self

1 Corinthians 4:3-4 “I care very little if I am judged by you or by any human court; indeed, I do not even judge myself. My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me.”

I can still remember the time the organisation I was working for was undergoing a restructure. There were strong opinions about which way things should go. One of those strong opinions was mine, and I set about writing a proposal and advocating for it. My proposal was dismissed out of hand, and I remember the devastation of not just being dismissed but not even really being considered. This was a hard lesson to learn, but it showed me that my identity was too tied to my work. To be clear, this was not my immediate reflection. My immediate response was visceral hurt and anger. In the way a “no” can feel less like disappointment and more like a judgment not only on your work, but on you as a person.

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Sometimes our reactions are proportionate. A significant setback is wounding, but at other times, the intensity of our reactions reveals something deeper. We are not just disappointed but destabilised. Not just pleased but inflated and prideful. Tim Keller identified the issue this way. “If you make work your identity and you succeed, it’ll go to your head. If you fail, it’ll go to your heart.”1

Why does this happen? Work offers a compelling stage for proving ourselves. It provides measurable outcomes, visible contributions, and real-time opinions from others. Over time, work does more than evaluate us. It trains us to locate our worth in what can be measured, compared, approved and financially rewarded. In cultures shaped by honour and shame, the stakes feel even higher. Success does not just reflect on us but on those we represent. Failure does not just disappoint but exposes us and those we love. The question “Who am I?” becomes entangled with “How am I seen?” and “What have I achieved?”

The deeper issue is that no one exists outside of relationships. We are not isolated selves who choose whether to be shaped by others. We are relational creatures by God’s design. The question is never whether our identity will be formed in relationship, but which relationships will hold the most influence and be determinative. When the workplace becomes a primary relational field in which worth is decided, we ask colleagues, performance reviews, and quarterly rankings to answer a question only God can answer. We have overstated the importance of the wrong relational field to our identity.

This is what Tim Keller calls a self-salvation project.2 Work becomes the altar where we prove our value and competence. Career becomes our way of justifying ourselves, not just before God but before colleagues, family, and our own inner critic. The pattern often appears to be ordinary ambition and the healthy desire to do well, but beneath the surface, something else is happening. Our identity is being negotiated with every outcome.

The patterns show up in our bodies before we name them. We feel our hearts racing, confusion, and our field of view narrowing as we react to feedback. Not thoughtful consideration but immediate self-protection. We notice how our mood rises and falls with the team’s opinion of us, as if we cannot distinguish our worth from their approval. We catch ourselves managing our reputation through indirect channels. Wondering what was said in the meeting we weren’t in. Curating how we appear to those who matter. These are signals. These signals tell us that the horizontal relational field has become more significant than it needs to be, and that interactions have become a referendum on our worth.

In 1 Corinthians 4, Paul is defending the nature of apostolic ministry in a church that has turned it into a status contest, and he offers a different way to see things. “I care very little if I am judged by you or by any human court, indeed, I do not even judge myself” (1 Corinthians 4:3-4). Paul is not claiming to be beyond accountability, he says, “My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me.” This has implications for our exploration living from the Gospel at work.

Notice the move. Paul notices the evaluation, but then he reevaluates the importance that this evaluation plays in understanding who he is. The opinions of others have not disappeared, they have been reordered. The horizontal field of human judgment remains real but they no longer constitute as a significant influence on his identity. There is one Judge whose verdict creates reality.

The broader context here is important to consider. As becomes evident in 2 Corinthians, many in Corinth were not impressed with Paul. His letters might be “weighty and forceful,” they said, but in person, he was unimpressive, and his speaking amounted to nothing.3 Paul’s response is not to defend his credentials but to reframe what credentials mean. He calls himself a “jar of clay.” Ordinary, breakable, nothing special. Matt Aroney reflects on this image. “It is exactly the disparity between the glory inside and the ordinary, shameful outside which demonstrates where the strength of God is shown.” 4The treasure is not diminished by the vessel. In fact, Aroney observes, “The more unremarkable he looks, the more astounding the glory of God in him appears.”5 The Corinthians wanted a leader who looked impressive. Paul offered them a better picture of how identity works when it no longer depends on appearing strong or making the approval of others central.

In Christ, the verdict has already been rendered. We are not waiting to find out who we are based on next quarter’s results, next week’s performance review or whether our plans have been accepted. We have been crucified with Christ and now live by faith in the Son of God who loved us and gave himself for us (Gal 2:20). The old self, the one that needed to prove, perform, and protect, has been put to death. The life we now live is not our own. It is Christ’s life in us.

Brian Rosner puts it this way. The key to personal identity is not self-knowledge but being known by God. The question shifts from “Who am I?” to “Whose am I?” He presses further. “If one of the universal desires of the self is to be known by others, being known by God as his children meets our deepest and lifelong need for recognition and gives us a secure identity.”6

When we spend enormous energy trying to define ourselves through our achievements, our roles, our standing with others, our identity turns inward. But what if identity runs in the other direction? What if it is received rather than constructed? What if it is given by the One who knows us fully and has declared us his own?

In the previous post, we saw that in Christ we have been relocated, set on high, hidden with Christ in God. Here, that truth meets identity. We are not merely protected from external threats. We are freed from the endless internal negotiation of worth. The question “Who am I in their eyes?” gives rise to a prior, more important question. “Whose am I?”

The answer is not something we earn or achieve rather it is something we receive. In Christ, we are given a new status as justified, adopted, and united with Him. This union with Christ redefines our very identity. Further, the Spirit’s cry of ‘Abba, Father’ is the inward witness that all of this is real. It assures us not because we’ve succeeded, but because Jesus has. It is His performance, not ours, that grounds our identity in the workplace.

This does not make us indifferent to feedback. Good work still matters. Growth still requires honesty about where we fall short, and self-awareness remains important. But feedback no longer has the power to define us. Critique can be received without being crushed, because our identity does not rest on being right. Success can be enjoyed without being inflated, because our worth does not depend on outcomes. The emotional whiplash, pride when affirmed and despair when exposed, begins to lose its power. Not because we have mastered our reactions, but because we have been captured by a better vision of reality in Christ.

This shift matters especially where performance carries the weight of family pressure. It is the question of what to say when parents ask how work is going. It is carrying the weight of being the first in the family to reach this position, or the one whose success was supposed to vindicate the sacrifices made for our education. When we fail, the shame radiates outward to parents, to extended family, to the community that expected more.

In honour-shame cultures, the horizontal and vertical fields can feel fused. Family honour operates as an ultimate verdict. The gospel distinguishes them. It does not dismiss honour but relocates its source. We are not stripped of dignity. We are given a dignity that cannot be taken away. The honour that comes from God is more stable, more permanent, more visceral than the honour that rises and falls with visible achievement. We can honour family without being constituted by their approval.

Living from this settled identity will be slow and uneven. The instinct to prove, defend, and justify runs deep. We will still feel the sting of critique and the pull of validation. But increasingly, by the Spirit’s work, we learn to return to what is already true. The verdict has been rendered. We are not on trial. We are free to work hard, receive feedback, and even fail without being undone. Not because we have mastered our emotions, or proved our worth or met others’ expectations, but because Christ has secured our identity, and this better vision captures our hearts.

What This Might Look Like

Receiving critical feedback. Your manager points out a flaw in your proposal. Instead of immediately defending yourself or spiralling into self-doubt, you notice the spike of anxiety and take some deep breaths. You ask a clarifying question. You thank them for the input. Later, you reflect honestly on what was valid and what was not. The feedback was about you and the work, but neither of them has the final verdict. You can learn from this feedback without being undone by it.

Being overlooked for a project. A colleague has been chosen to lead the initiative you wanted. You feel the sting of disappointment and perhaps a flash of envy. But you do not need to diminish their success or rehearse your grievances. You can congratulate them genuinely. Your worth was never dependent on being chosen. You are free to serve where you are, trusting that your significance does not rise or fall with visibility.

Answering the question at family dinner. Your parents or cousins ask how work is going. You used to dread this question, weighed down by their expectations and the fear of disappointing them. Now you can answer honestly. “It has been a hard season. I am learning a lot.” You do not need to perform to be worthy. And if their approval wavers, you have a deeper approval that holds.

Sitting in a performance review. The numbers are mixed. Some areas exceeded expectations, others fell short. You listen without catastrophising. You ask what you could do differently. You leave the room without your identity in tatters. The review measured your performance in one season. It did not measure your worth. You can receive the data, adjust, and keep working without the paralysis of shame.

Watching someone else succeed. A peer receives the recognition you hoped for. You notice the comparison rising in your chest. But you do not need to nurse resentment or diminish their achievement in your mind. Their success is not your failure. There is enough grace, enough significance, enough room in Christ’s kingdom for both of you to flourish. You can celebrate with them and mean it.7

Questions to Sit With

Choose one to sit with. Some are lighter than others.

1. When feedback comes, positive or negative, what happens? How does my body react? What might my first instinct reveal about where I’m locating my worth?

2. When our team experiences a setback, the emotional temperature often rises. If I traced my own intensity back, what might it be protecting? When the team’s standing feels like my standing, what would help me stay grounded in Christ’s verdict while remaining warmly present to the team’s disappointment?

3. Whose voice lives loudest in my head when I fail? A parent, a supervisor, my own inner critic, the imagined judgment of peers? What would it mean to let Christ’s verdict speak louder? What one situation this week might I approach differently if I trusted that the decisive judgment has already been spoken?

© 2025 Roger Bray. All rights reserved.

Prayer

Righteous Judge, who rendered your verdict in Christ before we could earn or lose it, free us from the endless trial of human opinion. Settle our hearts in the courtroom that matters, that we might work from acceptance rather than for it, and find our worth not in what we achieve but in whom we belong. Through Jesus Christ, the Beloved in whom we are beloved. Amen.

ENDNOTES

1 https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/50-quotes-tim-keller/. This concept is also found in Timothy Keller, Every Good Endeavour (New York: Dutton, 2012)

2 https://timothykeller.com/blog/2010/10/20/counterfeit-gods-the-personal-story Keller develops this concept throughout his work on idolatry. See Timothy Keller, Counterfeit Gods(New York: Dutton, 2009).

3 Matt Aroney. Renovated: How God makes us Christlike. (Function). Kindle Edition. 2023), 74.

4 Aroney, 74.

5 Aroney, 74.

6 Brian S. Rosner, Known by God: A Biblical Theology of Personal Identity (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2017), 9.

7I use AI as an augmenting tool to help me clarify my thinking, conduct research, assess my work, and serve as an editor. The ideas, ways of thinking, experiences, and stories are the result of my thinking through these issues. They are shaped by many authors, including, but not limited to, Keller, Pawlson, Rosner, Campbell, Aroney, Errington, Chalmers, Bowen, Cuss, and, most importantly, the biblical text, which I hope to exegete faithfully and is the final authority.