While the church offered copious amounts of advice on what sort of language to avoid at work, how to evangelize co-workers, how to handle alcohol and avoid inappropriate jokes, and how to contribute to the work of the church, there was never once a discussion among the dozen or so B-2 pilots who attended our church as to whether or not a follower of Jesus should fly a bomber capable of dropping nuclear bombs.
A Season of Wrestling
In our early 30’s, my wife and I began leading a college small group. I was a B-2 Bomber pilot and my wife was a stay-at-home mom in the small town of Warrensburg, MO. Toward the end of the school year, one of the students in our group, who had become a good friend, asked me about some internship options he was considering for the summer. He had been offered an internship at a secular firm, which would likely create some great opportunities in the career field in which he hoped to work. He had also received an invitation from his home church to work on staff for the summer. His question for me was “should I spend my summer pursuing the career I hope to begin, or does following Jesus mean that I should spend the summer working in my Church?” I didn’t know how to answer him. As a Christian in a secular workplace, I had been wrestling personally for over a decade with faith and work integration, but when faced with the question from someone else, I realized how little progress I had made.
That question and the conversations that followed set a course for my personal journey with Christ. I began to ask hard questions about faith and work, and I realized that the Church did not have much to offer beyond ethical principles that applied across all secular vocations. It offered copious amounts of advice on what sort of language to avoid at work, how to evangelize co-workers, how to handle alcohol and avoid inappropriate jokes, and how to contribute to the work of the church. But there was never once a discussion among the dozen or so B-2 pilots who attended our church as to whether or not a follower of Jesus should fly a bomber capable of dropping nuclear bombs. Suddenly, that question seemed much more important to me than whether or not I should laugh at an inappropriate joke. Obviously, I am not a pacifist, and I am thankful that there are Christians involved in the decisions about when and how we exercise military power at every level of leadership. But the question of how dropping nuclear weapons and following Jesus fit together is at least important enough to warrant a discussion.
I came to realize that for many pastors, the faith and work tension has been resolved. They have not personally wrestled in situations where they are contributing to systems and organizations that seem—at least at some levels—to be juxtaposed to the Kingdom of God. Most of the pastors I’ve known well are not trying to avoid the faith/work questions that press hard on those of us in the secular workplace. They simply don’t feel the weight of those questions in their own working lives.
So, I began reading whatever books I could find on the topic and listening to whoever ventured to speak about it. I pieced together a framework of understanding that was sort of a theological amalgamation of Genesis 1-2 and the Priesthood of the Believer. That framework slowly filled out over time so that I could reference some good material and speak somewhat intelligibly to the more significant faith/work questions. But in my personal experience, I still felt like I had to do mental gymnastics to even remember that somehow the work I was doing in the secular workplace was aligned with the Kingdom of God.
Lamppost Farm
Around the same time, my brother, Steve, founded a small farm in NE Ohio. He called it Lamppost Farm after the famed Lamppost in “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” that marked the entry point into Narnia. He too was struggling to help Christians connect their faith to the rest of their lives outside the walls of church. His vision was to create a space for discipleship that happened in the context of agricultural work rather than a classroom or a missions trip. Just before my wife and I moved our family to NE Ohio to join my brother at Lamppost Farm, I wrote a 40+ page paper to distill my vision for ministry on a farm. Part of the paper discussed the sacred/secular divide that undergirds the predominant Western Worldview. In it I wrote:
We hope to establish a business which, to Modern Western Culture, appears to be neatly situated in the secular sphere. But as patrons and participants look closer, we hope that our farm fails to fit into their paradigms. We want patrons to experience customer service that is more than a gimmick—that is rooted in the extremely high value that the Lord places on individuals. We want customers to look closer, to accept the invitation to participate in the events and activities of the farm. In those events and activities, we want them to have opportunities to experience the rich satisfaction of work that is oriented properly. Rather than working for the largest profit margins or the most productivity, we want them to experience work that cultivates community and seeks to understand the Lord’s design in creation and our role in that design. We want them to experience a different pace of work, a sense of community sharing in the work, and satisfaction from the work. Working together becomes the context through which we get to know each other and come to know ourselves better. As they become more familiar and more committed to the community of Lamppost, they will be invited into prayer and liturgical practice with the core partners of the farm. And as they come to know and understand who we are, we hope they will discover, in the center, the Gospel of Jesus Christ. And so the Gospel will be not so much a philosophy for their consideration, but rather an explanation for why we farm and live and work the way we do—the central meaning around which our life, our work, and our relationships revolve. In this way, they will discover the sacred at the center of the secular sphere, rather than outside it.
Lamppost Farm has been operating for 15 years. We have seen some of this vision play out in the community at the farm. But the challenge of dualism—of a faith/work divide—can be daunting. I still feel, sometimes, like I’m doing mental gymnastics to apply my faith to my work on and off the farm. This is why “Work and Worship” was such an inspiration to me.
A Group of Guys
Steve actually bought our first copy of Work and Worship. He only read a few pages before he quit reading and asked me if I wanted it. He said, “I thought it was going to articulate how our work can be an act of worship. But it’s mainly just a book about how to do worship services differently.” I wasn’t even sure I would read it, but halfway through the Foreword by Nicholas Wolterstorff, I was hooked! I knew exactly what he was describing when he wrote, “[Many writers assume] that if Christians acquire the right theological thoughts about work by reading their writings, the breach between faith and work will be healed and integration will ensue.” He goes on to explain that “Theologies of work matter, but they need to be sung and prayed.” A few pages into the introduction, Kaemingk and Willson expound that idea, and what was previously opaque to me became brilliantly obvious: the primary place where we address the work/faith divide is in Worship!
In November, 2023, I began leading a group of about 10 guys through Work and Worship. I explained at the first meeting that the central argument of Work and Worship is that information alone is not effective at changing our heart. The information will only be transformative when it is embodied in worship. This means that we cannot study this book together in a regular discussion format—that would fundamentally oppose the central meaning of the book! I told them that we would be participating as a group in some liturgical elements of worship related to what we’re reading. The group consisted of 1 full-time pastor, 1 part-time pastor, 1 volunteer worship leader and about 8 guys in secular vocations, both blue and white collar. We represented at least 10 different churches from a wide variety of denominations. Several had no clue what “liturgy” meant.
Here’s what I discovered. When these men were given the opportunity to talk to each other about their work, they came alive. The categories of Trumpets, Tears, Ashes, Petitions, and Fruit create ready-made discussion material. Any time I asked the question, “What has been challenging in your work this week?” I had trouble reigning in the eruption of responses! Guys want to talk about this stuff. They just don’t often have an invitation to do so.
By about halfway through the study, I had refined what I called ‘liturgical exercises’ to the point that I began to repeat the format. I would break the group into pairs or threesomes and ask, “What was the best thing that happened at work this week?” I asked them to take a few notes on what they heard from their partner and then write a piece of liturgy about their partner’s response. The liturgy could be a prayer of thanksgiving, a call to worship, a benediction, a prayer of lament, an assurance of pardon etc. Then we would go around the table and read what we had written. I would usually do a corporate reading of Scripture before or after that exercise, and I would normally include a song, usually from The Porter’s Gate. I played the song on a Bluetooth speaker and we silently listened rather than trying to get a small group of guys to sing along!

I developed a few key techniques that I think are really useful in this format.
- Groups of 2 work best. In pairs, everyone is able to talk, and everyone has to be a good listener. Knowing they have to write about their partner’s material helps to make them better listeners.
- One question is better than multiple questions. One good question will keep everyone dialed in on the same specific aspect of their work.
- Writing liturgy is awesome! The process of writing liturgy brings what was shared with each other before the Lord. Without the liturgy piece, we can just share with each other, but we don’t bring God into the process. Writing liturgy makes us consider how to frame what we heard into an act of Worship.
- Nobody wants to do these exercises. We are way more comfortable simply discussing book material and sharing our objective views related to the book material. But without exception, the liturgical exercise was always the best part of our time together according to the feedback that I received.
