Home Pastors Articles for Pastors The Lethal Drug in Your Dream Job

The Lethal Drug in Your Dream Job

Idolatry is a subtle and scary business.

You simply don’t know all the lies lurking in your desires, ambitions and decisions—even the good ones. In fact, Tim Keller says, “The greater the good, the more likely we are to expect that it can satisfy our deepest needs and hopes” (Counterfeit Gods, xvii). That’s a terrifying proposition. And one I can testify to personally. Some idolatries scream, and others whisper. Some lure us down long, dark alleys. Others creep into the comfort of our more safe, suburban self-righteousness.

Success is a drug of choice among Americans, and it is a slow and subtle killer. I wonder why you want the job you do. There are lots of good motivations. Maybe having a higher salary would free you to give more to ministry. Maybe more power would put you in a position to influence more people with the gospel. Maybe God’s gifted you for more than you’re able to give in your current role.

There are bad reasons, too, though, and one that is especially sinister and murderous. Success at work will play god and make promises to you that it cannot and will not keep. Success promises to fill holes in our hearts. If you only ascend this high or accumulate this much, your fears and insecurities will be resolved once for all. Success promises the love of those around us. They will finally give you the respect and affection you crave. Success says it can cover everything wrong about us. It offers esteem, control and security—everything we surrendered in our sin. It wears the savior’s costume and presents itself the strong, charming and trustworthy hero.

But success is a horrible hero, and an even worse god.

“Success is a horrible hero, and an even worse god.” Tweet

Work in Line With the Gospel

There is only one way to deal with the sin that remains and the death we deserve, and it isn’t found at the top of any corporate ladder, or in the size of a 401K, or in the number of people reporting to you, or even in how happy you are in your job. Only God can address the needs nested deep in our weaknesses, insecurities, fears and failures. Success could never address what we all really need most. Only the gospel will save us—even those who believe success in this life might save them.

We all try to earn love. For many of us, it started in preschool trying to please Mom and Dad with another picture for the fridge. Then it was cultivated in the competition of middle-school classrooms and confirmed in the grades and awards of high school. In college, for the first time, we were identified by our major—our future job. And then four years later, after our first paycheck, we’re already fighting society’s desire to define us by where we work, who works for us and how much we make. It all looks like work, but it’s really worship. It wears the responsible nametag of provision, but it’s really the frantic, promiscuous search for redemption.