Let’s get real: most of us treat work like it’s just a paycheck treadmill—punch in, punch out, chase the weekend. We’ve bought into the lie that there’s “sacred” work (think pastor, minister or Christian nonprofit employee) and then “secular” work (the bankers, coders, baristas, truck drivers, etc.). It’s a mental split that’s been screwing us up for centuries, leaving us feeling like half our lives are pointless. But what if that’s all wrong? What if your gig—yes, even the soul-crushing Zoom calls or the grease-stained wrench-turning—isn’t just “work” but a legitimate shot at something bigger? Spoiler alert: it is! And it’s time we wake up to it.
I’ve worn a few different hats in my time—from grunt work to executive level—and I’ve come to realize something that’s both freeing and grounding: all work matters. Whether you’re crafting a pair of boots, crunching numbers in an office, raising a family, or making content like me, there’s no hierarchy of “sacred” versus “secular” when it comes to honoring God. That old divide? It’s a myth we can let go of. Every job, every role, every sweaty effort can be a way to reflect the One who made us. Let’s unpack this together, with a nod to wisdom from the past and a clear eye on how we live it out today.
Picture this: a craftsman walks up to Martin Luther—the Reformation guy who shook things up back in the 1500s—and asks, “What do I do now that I’m a Christian?” He’s a shoemaker, hands calloused from leather and nails. Luther doesn’t tell him to ditch the shop for a monastery or start stitching crosses into every sole. Instead, he says, “Make good shoes and sell them at a fair price.” Simple, right? But profound! Luther saw what we sometimes miss: work isn’t a punishment or a stepping stone to something “holier.” It’s a calling baked into creation itself.
Think about it. Before the Fall in Genesis, Adam and Eve were given jobs—tending the garden, naming the animals, managing the earth. Work wasn’t a consequence of sin; it was a privilege from the start. Sure, thorns and sweat came later, but the core of it? That’s God’s design. So whether you’re in a boardroom or a barn, your work has roots in something divine. It’s not about where you clock in—it’s about how you show up.
Here’s where it gets real for us. Somewhere along the line, we started splitting life into categories: sacred stuff (church, prayer, “ministry”) and secular stuff (everything else). It’s like we handed out gold stars to pastors and missionaries while the rest of us—accountants, mechanics, teachers—got a pat on the head and a “good effort.” But that’s not how it works. There’s no cosmic leaderboard ranking “spiritual” jobs above “worldly” ones.
Take Jesus, for instance. For years, he was a carpenter—sanding wood, fitting joints, building things people used every day. Was that less sacred than his preaching? Hardly. It was part of who he was, part of the plan. Or look at Paul, stitching tents to pay the bills while spreading the gospel. The guy didn’t see his trade as a side gig to his “real” calling—it was all woven together. The Bible doesn’t draw a line between the two, and neither should we.
So, what does this mean for a guy like me—or you—moving through life in 2025? Maybe you’re running a business, fixing engines, or mentoring the next generation. Here’s the kicker: you don’t need to slap a Bible verse on your work to make it count for God. It’s already sacred if you do it with integrity, skill, and heart. I’m a Filmmaker who happens to follow Christ. That doesn’t make me a “Christian Filmmaker.”
Scripture backs this up. Colossians 3:23 says, "Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men". Notice that? Whatever you do. Not just the churchy stuff. That report you’re drafting? The meal you’re cooking? The deal you’re closing? It’s all for Him. The goal isn’t to turn your job into a sermon—it’s to let your character and effort preach louder than words. Be the guy who’s trustworthy, who delivers quality, who treats people right. That’s what makes the good news attractive, whether you’re in a cubicle or a construction site.
Now, I get it. We’ve all heard folks say, “Oh, you’re just a [fill in the blank].” Just a salesman. Just a dad. Just a technician. But there’s no “just” about it. Your work—whatever it is—is your sphere of influence, your patch of ground to steward. That’s not trendy jargon; it’s timeless truth. A Dutch thinker named Abraham Kuyper once said there’s not a square inch of this world where Christ doesn’t say, “Mine!” That includes your office, your shop, your home. You’re not sidelined from God’s kingdom because you’re not in “full-time ministry.” You’re in it, right where you stand.
As a film professional, this hits home in the world I move in. I’m not preaching from a pulpit, but I’m still called to bring excellence and honor to what I do. Maybe you’re the same—balancing deadlines, shaking hands, making decisions that ripple out. That’s not secular grunt work; it’s a chance to reflect God’s order and goodness. And if you’re good at it—if you’ve got the skills and the drive—why wouldn’t you lean into that? God wired you that way for a reason.
So let’s keep showing up, doing what we do with all we’ve got, knowing it’s all part of the bigger story. Sacred? Secular? Forget the labels. It’s a rusty old idea that doesn’t hold up. It’s all work, and it’s all His. You don’t need to escape your “day job” to serve God—you’re serving Him in it. The world’s a mess—floods, fights, flops—and you’re wired to tame it, one honest day at a time. That’s not a job description; that’s a superpower.
For the VG crew, this is gold. We’re not here to coast along—we’re about identity, purpose, authenticity, and legacy. Work is your proving ground. You don’t need a corner office or a TED Talk to matter. Craft that shoe, brew that coffee, close that deal—do it with guts and grit, because you’re not just working; you’re ruling and reigning.
So next time someone asks, “What do you do?” Don’t just shrug. Tell ‘em you’re taking dominion—one killer shoe, one tight weld, one bold pitch at a time. Work isn’t your side gig to some “higher calling.” It is the calling. Own it. Now, go out there and make something good.
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