The Theosis of Work: Sanctification Through Craft

I didn't come up with this idea on my own. It started with Bible verses at company meetings.

Hank, the founder and CEO at SEQTEK, is a pretty spiritual guy. Whenever we'd do company get-togethers, whether a state of the company meeting, Thanksgiving dinner, or Christmas party, he'd share Scripture. Proverbs about iron sharpening iron. About practicing your craft before kings. About honest weights and measures. Verses from Peter about how we conduct ourselves.

This was before I was heavily into my faith. I was just starting to find my way back. But something about those verses stuck. They pointed at a connection I hadn't considered: that the work we do and the people we're becoming might not be separate things at all.

The Eastern Church Fathers have a word for this process of becoming. They call it theosis. It's the ongoing transformation into the likeness of God. St. Gregory of Nyssa said virtue is infinite, that you never arrive. You're always moving toward something you'll never fully reach.

What I've come to understand is that work is one of the primary places this happens.

Work as Unto the Lord

I've always cared about doing a good job. Work integrity, giving my best for clients, these things mattered to me even before I had a framework for why. But at some point, that ethic took on a spiritual dimension.

There's a phrase that shows up in Scripture: "as unto the Lord." It means you're not ultimately working for your client, your boss, or even yourself. You're working for God. And that changes everything about how you approach the tedious parts, the frustrating parts, the parts where you disagree with the direction things are going.

Here's the thing: it's easy to give your best when you agree with what's happening. When you share a vision with your client, when you see the goal clearly and the method makes sense, excellence comes naturally. But when there's murkiness? When you don't understand the vision, or worse, you understand it and think it's wrong? That's when the temptation kicks in to phone it in. Do the minimum. Be compliant without being committed.

That's not the spiritual way to look at it.

I've had to develop a mindset where it doesn't matter whether I agree or disagree, whether I understand or don't understand. Whatever pathway I'm walking down, I'm putting my best foot forward. I'm trying my hardest. I'm bringing a serious and earnest effort.

Not because the client always deserves it. But because the work itself is formative. It's shaping me into someone. And I'd rather it shape me into someone who gives fully than someone who calculates exactly how little he can get away with.

When Grace Gets Practical

Let me give you a recent example. I won't name names, but there's a client whose CEO got hot and bothered about AI. Specifically, generative models. They were already using some image classification and other approaches pretty effectively. But generative AI was all the rage, and that's what they wanted.

I told them their data wasn't ready. We needed to work on that foundation before we could build anything useful on top of it. I said I'd be happy to help guide them through this journey, to meet with whatever vendor they were talking to and evaluate their pitch.

They weren't interested. They contracted with another company and kept the whole initiative completely separate from us, even though we basically function as their entire software development department. We're their technology partner, but they decided to go it alone.

That was about a year ago. They have nothing to show for it. Some pilots based on a static snapshot of data dumped into CSVs. An app that looks like a basic LLM wrapper. No real value created, no meaningful results, and a lot of money spent that could have gone toward their internal product or AI initiatives that would actually bear fruit.

All along the way, I kept offering to help. Let me validate what these guys are telling you. Let me help them get access to what they need for meaningful results. And all along the way, they kept demanding more output from us while cutting our budget because they were spending it on this other project.

The old me would have gotten really upset. Would have thought, "Well, now you're getting what you deserve." Would have been tempted to say "I told you so."

But now I feel compassion. It's like, man, I'm sorry this isn't turning out the way you wanted. I resist the urge to point out that I called it. Instead, I keep showing up, keep offering help, keep doing my best work even when they're frustrated with us for not delivering everything they want on a reduced budget.

That's what choosing grace looks like in practice. It's not a feeling. It's a decision to keep loving people who are making your life harder, because that's what love actually demands.

Stewardship Over Ownership

Hank didn't always operate this way. He talks openly about it. He started the company thinking he could do it all himself. Then the dot-com bust happened.

In software consulting that was primarily web-based at the time, that bust was brutal. He had developers he had to let go. Contracts he lost. It brought him to his knees.

That's when something shifted. He stopped thinking of the business as his and started thinking of himself as a steward. A steward of the business, of the gifts God gave him, of the people who work for him and with him.

I've watched him navigate difficult situations since then, and the difference is visible. It looks like humility.

When you're "the guy," when you're doing everything and it's all on you, ego takes over. You can't be wrong. You have to have the plan. You can't accept help. You can't admit mistakes.

But when you make the shift to stewardship, all of that opens up. You can accept help. You can change your mind. You can admit you were wrong. Because ultimately it's not about protecting your image. It's about doing the right thing for the thing God gave you: the business, the people, the work itself.

His primary goal isn't to make money and be profitable. It's to serve everyone through the work. Add value to companies. Help them realize their goals. Shape their vision in a godly way. The by-product is that the company does make money and he's very successful. But that's the by-product, not the point.

The Hard Days

Yes, there are days where it just feels like work.

Everyone has off days. Sometimes I can't see the vision or make the connection between my motivation and what I'm doing. Sometimes clients are frustrating. Sometimes the tedious, unglamorous parts of the job pile up on projects where I don't feel heard.

What do you do in those scenarios? You pray through it. You ask for help. And thankfully, there's grace.

God gives me grace that even though some days I don't have it, He forgives me. It's not that it's okay. It's that He forgives me. There's a difference. I'm not aiming for "good enough." I'm aiming for something I'll never fully reach.

St. Gregory had it right. Theosis is an ongoing process. Virtue is infinite. You never get there. The transformation from dreading Monday mornings to being genuinely happy to do my work has been gradual and is still ongoing.

What Happens When You Win

This mindset doesn't just change how you handle the hard stuff. It changes how you experience success.

When a project goes really well, I try to experience it as a reflection of the glory of God. All the recognition I receive, I try to redirect. It's not me, it's Him. He's brought me out of a lot of really difficult situations and is still in the midst of bringing me out.

Practically, that means sharing recognition. Lifting others up. Edifying and encouraging. Pointing out everyone who contributed. The gifts God gave me are just that: His gifts. I'm the vessel for making sure those gifts are employed well. I'm a steward, not an owner.

Staying humble when things go well might actually be harder than giving grace when things go poorly. Success has a way of convincing you that you're the reason for it. The spiritual work is remembering that you're not.

The Point

I used to think work was one thing and spiritual formation was another. Professional life happened at the office. Spiritual growth happened at church, in prayer, in study.

That separation was always false.

Every frustrating client interaction is an opportunity to practice patience and grace. Every tedious task is a chance to choose excellence when no one would notice if you didn't. Every success is a test of whether you'll stay humble or let ego take over. Every failure is an invitation to depend on something beyond yourself.

The work is doing something to you. Not just the other way around.

The question is whether you're paying attention to what it's forming you into.