The Work Ethic You Deserve
Examining our fatigue surrounding spirituality
The NBA Finals just concluded and basketball fans like me were treated to a historic performance by an undersized, underappreciated point guard named Jalen Brunson. A tough-as-nails juggernaut who recalled visions of Iverson, Kobe, and with 45 points in that close-out game, yes, even Jordan.
In the immediate aftermath of clinching his first NBA championship and New York’s first in 53 years, Brunson was asked about the source of his extraordinary confidence.
“My confidence comes from my work ethic. Every time I had the ball, all I could think about was all the hours in the summer… making this a reality.”
Work ethic.
Let’s spend a moment concentrating on the idea of that.
Not everyone is tall. Not everyone has the bodily or brain genetics or what we once termed “God-given talent,” but many of us do have enough agency and will to shape a work ethic.
When it comes to physical endeavors or athletics, work ethic makes sense to me. There are those 10,000 hours required for skill development, cardio capacity, and the instincts that make for split-second decisions. Height, talent, etc, that’s not entirely up to you, but work ethic is seemingly in your hands.
So, how does work ethic translate to the spiritual life? What type of determination and practice is required to refine and deepen one’s soul? And how many of you, when hearing the idea of work ethic associated with spirituality, just left the chat?
Hmm… Maybe there’s a better term that would land softer or is more aligned with spiritual matters. How about devotion? No? Obedience? Ouch. Ok. I hear you, but stay with me on this.
The etymology of the word obedience comes from a Latin word, oboedio, which means to listen to. But let’s be honest, I know obedience likely conjures up images of subservience to a distant, furrowed-brow male authoritarian leader from your past.
So, the question of whether we talk discipline, devotion, work ethic, or even obedience is… to what end? Or toward whom?
Now we’re back to the subject of one’s image of God.
Who were your most formative images?
From my youth? The practical images of God came on prime-time television in the form of an evangelist. Billy Graham was bellowing out the big invitation at one of his crusades (which is the origin of my mother’s spirituality). I found Billy’s voice and demeanor tough, loud, commanding, if not demanding, my attention.
And then another God-like figure from my childhood was Indiana University basketball coach Bob Knight. Growing up a short drive east of the campus during the 1980’s heyday of IU basketball, he truly was a large, looming, fiery-tempered figure throughout Hoosier land with a basketball gospel I accepted into my heart.
And then at home, multiple times a week, it was my exposure to Pastor Day at Berean Bible Church, whose stern-faced teachings I sat under for the first 18+ years of my life. He carried a menacing countenance even when he smiled, a similar towering no-nonsense figure as the other two.
Those three images were baked deeeeep into the brownies of my young psyche. They, along with a handful of others, my father included, were the practical voice and influence from on high. And I felt responsible to perform to their liking. Whether real or imagined, I was convinced my main job was to work hard, to obey, to do what it takes to earn their favor or at least keep safe from their shouts and reprimands.
Looking back, no wonder folks with experiences like these are so exhausted. No wonder there’s a stare off in the distance deficit of attention, when the idea of working harder comes up around spirituality.
I know, at some level, you feel it too. So, let’s consider this question:
What difference would it have made if spiritual practices were never about proving anything?
What if a spiritual work ethic is only conditioning for a life of love and healing? What if those old “daily devotions” were encouraged for the development of one’s mental health and a benevolent wisdom stable enough for your neighbors to appreciate?
Jalen Brunson wasn’t thinking about confidence in the final minutes of a championship game. He was trusting the thousands of unseen repetitions that had become part of him. His practice became an embodiment, an instinct.
The spiritual life works similarly.
Prayer has never been about impressing God. Silence is not about impressing God. Service, generosity, forgiveness, contemplation—none of these earn us any heavenly badges or points. There is no divine scoreboard. Instead, these practices condition us for a life of wisdom. They expand our capacity for compassion. They prepare us to respond differently when life places the ball in our hands.
The problem is that many of us learned spiritual discipline from people whose God looked suspiciously like an angry authoritarian coach or pastor. Always watching you out of the corner of their eye. We learned effort in the shadow of their expressions of disappointment. We learned obedience as compliance and devotion as a pressurized performance.
No wonder so many people hear the words discipline or work ethic and immediately feel dysregulated and a distinct trauma-sourced fatigue.
I’ve read the gospel texts a few thousand times now, and I’ve never witnessed a drop of evidence that Jesus was the least bit interested in creating better performers. Instead, he was inviting and developing people capable of counter-cultural love.
“Try harder so you can earn God’s acceptance.” There is absolutely no version of that we ever hear from his mouth. Just a tender invitation to follow him into a radically compassionate way of being.
So, about work ethic or practice.
Practice? We talking about practice?
Yes, Mr. Iverson, I do believe practice matters. A lot. So does devotion, discipline, and all that. But not because God needs that from you to stay on God’s good side. So then, why the concentration on intentional spiritual practices? Because you deserve that from YOU. It’s the route toward your healing, self-love, and non-performative, healthy compassion toward others.
Learning to love and trust oneself, and learning to share wisdom and compassion with others… it just doesn’t happen by accident.
Becoming the kind of person who can listen deeply, forgive freely, welcome strangers, and heal wounds requires a particular formation with a deliberate intention. More specifically, a formation free from the toxicity of pressurized earning and performing.
Oh, and do I ever need my teammates. While Brunson led the charge toward the championship, he wouldn’t have arrived there without the four other guys on the court as well as the supporting cast from the bench, each of whom shared the same goal. I need my people to catch me in the act of shame-motivated spiritual activity. I need my people to learn how to encourage me to rest and be much kinder to myself. A solitary and shame-based work ethic has the shortest shelf life.
Friend, may you not feel ashamed for not quite getting it yet. You, like so many of us, likely weren’t handed the most helpful blueprint. So many of us are just now sorting through this, so please don’t feel bad, and at the same time… let’s get to work… but from a very different grace-saturated place this time.
A spiritual work ethic is simply this:
Returning, again and again, to the practices that make us more available to love.
This is a great reminder. We have four "Mantras" at South Bend City Church. "Practices not Performances" is one of them, in line with this. (It's also about not getting over-focused on the production aspect of church.)