False Christs and Idle Hands: The War on Work and the Need for Avodah

Dave Miller
4 days ago
10 min read

by Dave Miller

We are standing at a moment of cultural deception.

The spirit of our age promises liberation without labor, resurrection without the cross, and meaning without worship. It whispers that technology will redeem us, government will sustain us, and comfort will crown us if only we surrender our dependence on God. These are not new lies. They are the recycled promises of Eden: “You will be like God.”

We are told the future will free us from drudgery, that artificial intelligence will work while we rest, and that universal provision will grant dignity without effort.

A modern investor recently claimed, “When Optimus hits markets, every limitation on human potential evaporates. The elderly will gain tireless companions. Parents will be freed from the burden of care. Artists will create without constraint. This isn’t automation; it’s augmentation. Every person gains a tireless partner dedicated to their flourishing.”

And in another corner of culture, a progressive pastor praised a political figure as “Christlike” because he promised to provide for all human needs through government benevolence.

Both examples—technological utopia and political salvation—express the same false gospel: a promise of resurrection without crucifixion. It is the worship of a false god who offers life through old creation means. It is the reappearance of Pharaoh, not the return of Christ.

The Church must awaken to this deception. We are not preparing for liberation from work, but for the redemption of work. We are not saved from the created order, but through it, because the Cross of Jesus has redeemed the very ground cursed by our rebellion. If we lose the theology of the Cross and the theology of Avodah, we will lose the gospel itself.

The Pattern of Jesus: The Path of Death to Life

Jesus declared the pattern plainly:

“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”

— Luke 9:23, ESV

The Cross was not only His substitution but also His example. The road to glory always runs through obedience that bleeds. Jesus’ life and death were not two separate stories. They were the same oath lived to completion.

In Gethsemane, He faced His final decision. The cup of suffering stood before Him—the wrath, shame, and isolation of sin-bearing obedience. He prayed:

“Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.”

— Luke 22:42, ESV

That prayer was His oath. It sealed His path. The Son swore allegiance to the Father’s will unto death. This was not resignation but resolution, a covenant of love. As He later said:

“For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.”

— John 10:17–18, ESV

His death was no accident. He surrendered deliberately, opening the door to resurrection. The Father’s love met the Son’s obedience, and out of that union, eternal life broke through the grave.

The Witness of the Apostles: Death as the Door to Life

The apostles never softened this truth. Paul wrote:

“We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies.

For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh.

So death is at work in us, but life in you.”

— 2 Corinthians 4:8–12, ESV

Paul understood resurrection life flows only through crucified vessels. He continued later in the same letter:

“For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.

For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling… For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.”

— 2 Corinthians 5:1–4, ESV

Here Paul shows the body of the old creation—weak, aging, decaying—is not to be despised. It is the soil where God plants the seed of resurrection. Suffering is not the end of the story; it is the womb of glory. Peter echoes this same truth:

“Since therefore Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves with the same way of thinking, for whoever has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin.”

— 1 Peter 4:1, ESV

Death before life. Cross before crown. Humility before exaltation. This rhythm beats at the heart of the Kingdom.

Philippians 3: Paul’s Blueprint of Death and Resurrection

Paul’s testimony in Philippians 3 mirrors Christ’s own path. He begins with renunciation:

“But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.

For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.”

— Philippians 3:7–8, ESV

Then he speaks of participation:

“That I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.”

— Philippians 3:10–11, ESV

Paul doesn’t chase resurrection as comfort. He seeks it as consequence. Power follows the pattern. The only way to know resurrection is to share the Cross. His words “by any means possible” reveal his Gethsemane moment. Like Jesus, he signs his life away to the will of God, trusting the same Spirit who raised Christ will raise him also.

The Oath of Jesus and the Oath of Paul

Jesus’ words, “Not my will, but yours be done,” became Paul’s creed. Both oaths flow from love and loyalty, not fatalism. Death was not their goal; obedience was. Yet obedience always led through suffering to glory. To take this oath means entering the covenant of cruciform living. It means saying with Paul:

“I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”

— Galatians 2:20, ESV

And believing with Jesus that resurrection is certain because the Father is faithful.

This oath redefines the human calling. It reframes not only salvation but vocation. The same cross-shaped obedience that redeems our souls also redeems our work.

Avodah: The Sacred Unity of Worship, Work, and Service

The Hebrew word Avodah (עֲבוֹדָה) appears throughout Scripture. It can mean work, service, or worship. In God’s design, these three never separate. From the beginning, work was not punishment but participation in divine purpose.

“The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.”

— Genesis 2:15, ESV

Before sin, toil, and pain, there was Avodah. To work was to worship. To tend creation was to glorify the Creator. Work was humanity’s first liturgy—a sacred rhythm of cultivation, contribution, and communion.

When humanity fell, our understanding of work fell with it. The curse did not create labor; it corrupted it. The ground still yielded fruit, but only through thorns and sweat. The human heart still longed for purpose, but only found frustration without redemption.

The Corruption of Work Under Pharaoh

When Israel was enslaved in Egypt, Avodah was distorted. What God designed for worship became an instrument of oppression.

“They made their lives bitter with hard service, in mortar and brick, and in all kinds of work in the field. In all their work they made them serve with rigor.”

— Exodus 1:14, ESV

Pharaoh perverted the meaning of work. He used labor to build his own glory rather than God’s. Work became detached from worship and stripped of dignity.

But when God sent Moses, His call was not merely for liberation from slavery but for restoration to worship:

“Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, ‘Let my people go, that they may serve me.’”

— Exodus 8:1, ESV

The same Hebrew word, avodah, appears in both passages. God reclaims it. He turns slavery into service, oppression into worship. True freedom is not the absence of work; it is the restoration of work to its rightful object, God Himself.

Sabbath: The Rhythm of Gratitude and Rest

In redeeming work, God also sanctified rest.

“Six days you shall work, but on the seventh day you shall rest. In plowing time and in harvest you shall rest.”

— Exodus 34:21, ESV

The Sabbath was never meant as an escape from labor but a celebration of it.

Even during harvest, Israel was commanded to stop and remember provision comes from God, not from productivity.

Sabbath renews gratitude. It teaches us that rest without worship is laziness, and work without rest is slavery. It restores rhythm, reminding us both are gifts from the same Lord.

Vocational Worship: Holiness in the Ordinary

Even the most practical work was counted as sacred when done under God’s assignment.

“All those who were to serve and carry the holy things were registered by name.”

— Numbers 4:47, ESV

The Levites who carried tent poles and fabrics were as holy as the priests offering incense. God called them by name. Every vocation under God’s command is worship when done in faith and obedience. Paul captures this in the New Testament:

“Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men.”

— Colossians 3:23, ESV

In Christ, the curse of Pharaoh breaks.

The plowman and the preacher, the mother and the merchant, the craftsman and the counselor—all stand equal before God when their Avodah is done unto Him.

Jesus sanctifies the workplace as the sanctuary.

The False Gospel of Liberation Without Labor

Our culture has returned to Pharaoh’s deception in new robes.

The modern mind worships the idol of ease. It promises salvation through automation, deliverance through dependence, and identity without responsibility.

It says, “You will be free when you no longer have to work.”

This is the same serpent’s whisper that deceived Eden—autonomy disguised as advancement. We hear it in the dream of a technological savior, a world where machines bear all burdens and human purpose evaporates into entertainment. We hear it in the political messiah, a state that promises provision but demands worship.

We hear it in economic socialism, a false gospel that replaces stewardship with entitlement.

All share the same core lie, that flourishing can be found apart from faith, that resurrection can be reached without crucifixion. But Genesis 1 still stands: work is not the curse; it is the calling. Exodus still declares: freedom is not doing nothing; it is serving the right King. And the Cross still proclaims: life comes only through death.

Christ Redeems Work Through the Cross

When Jesus bore the curse of sin, He also bore the sweat of the brow.

His hands were not only pierced—they were calloused. The carpenter of Nazareth sanctified manual labor long before He preached from a pulpit. And when He died on the cross, He declared the truest Avodah the world had ever seen: “It is finished.”

In that moment, all human striving for significance was silenced, and all human work redeemed.

Now every task done in Christ, no matter how mundane, echoes the glory of that final work. Paul writes:

“So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.”

— 1 Corinthians 10:31, ESV

The resurrection of Jesus reframes our labor.

We no longer work to survive; we work to serve.

We no longer strive to prove our worth; we work because we have been made worthy.

Our tools become instruments of worship. Our workplaces become altars of praise.

The Convocational Call: Living as Priests in the Marketplace

This is the heartbeat of CoVocational living: we bring the sacred into the secular and live as priests in public.

Every spreadsheet and shovel, every meeting and meal, every project and partnership becomes part of the liturgy of life. As Hebrews declares:

“So then, there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God, for whoever has entered God’s rest has also rested from his works as God did from his.”

— Hebrews 4:9–10, ESV

This rest is not passivity; it is peace in the midst of purpose.

We rest from self-justification so we can labor in love.

We rest from fear so we can work in faith.

We rest from idolatry so we can serve the living God.

The Cross does not cancel work; it consecrates it.

It transforms drudgery into devotion and labor into liturgy.

We are not freed from responsibility but restored to it.

The Kingdom Horizon: From the Cross to the New Creation

Romans 8 gives us the ultimate vision of why our labor still matters:

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God.

For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.”

— Romans 8:18–21, ESV

Work is not wasted because creation itself awaits redemption. Every act of faithfulness, every nail driven straight, every word spoken in truth, every seed sown in hope, participates in that restoration. We plant in the old creation with eyes fixed on the new. We work in the shadow of the Cross but under the light of resurrection.

The Call to Action: Recovering the Sacred Pattern

So where do we go from here? We must recover the biblical pattern:

Death before life.

Cross before resurrection.

Work before rest.

Obedience before reward.

We must reject the false promise that says, “You can have the kingdom without the King.” We must model a better way, not by withdrawing from culture but by working redemptively within it.

When we take up our crosses daily, we proclaim to a weary world that suffering is not meaningless, labor is not futile, and glory is not found in ease but in endurance.

The way up is still down.

The way to life is still death.

The way to rest is still work done unto the Lord.

Conclusion: The Cross Is the Only Path Forward

We are watching the world try to re-create Eden without God. But the only path to paradise is through Calvary. The Cross is not just the way to salvation; it is the way to restoration. It redeems our souls, reclaims our work, and reframes our hope.

The world says, “You get what you want without effort.”

Jesus says, “You gain your life by losing it.”

The world says, “Flee from suffering.”

Jesus says, “Take up your cross.”

The world says, “Rest means escape.”

Jesus says, “Come to me, and I will give you rest, and a yoke that fits your soul.”

Work is not the enemy. It is the arena of worship. The Cross is not the end. It is the beginning of resurrection. Together, they reveal the rhythm of God’s kingdom: cruciform love expressed through faithful labor.

Let us take up our cross, put our hands to the plow, and work as those who live in the shadow of resurrection. For the first decision is still the only decision:

Death before resurrection.