I taught 1 Thessalonians 2-3 today, covering Paul’s anguish due to the distance between him and the young believers he left in a hostile environment and after being run out of not one but two towns.

In our Bible study, I emphasized the need to endure distance. Just as we endure distance between us and other believers (and sometimes that distance is time), we endure distance between us and Christ. It’s all part of the faith.

I told the class that the distance between us was real and that a week apart often felt like two. I also shared with them how I realize each week how much I miss being with them whenever I walk into the room.

One hour before I taught Bible study, my pastor unleashed a heart-shattering sermon about anger and the people we resent. Pray for your enemies; love your enemies (Matthew 5:44-45). Doing so reveals the foolishness and stupidity of evil and conflict.

This sermon peeled a scab on my heart because I had a rough week at work. Long story short, some members of management and leadership made a mess out of a project, dumped the mess on me, and blamed me for trivial details in its execution rather than a) holding themselves accountable and b) redirecting their focus on the more significant issues that caused the situation in the first place.

My immediate supervisor and executive director didn’t want to hear it from me. By challenging their judgment at my organization, I have challenged them personally. I am their villain.

Yes, my organization is one of those places to work that is all smiles on the surface but is strikingly toxic underneath. If my organization’s problems were a fart in the room, the social rule of “whoever smelt it dealt it” would rein. Whistleblowers and rule-followers take the blame, while the non-diverse clique of leaders and managers determine how best to assign it.

Insomuch that the week ended with resentment toward me. I finished the week with resentment toward them. I tried to iron things out by acknowledging our challenges and committing to better collaboration in the future. But still, resentment and anger and confusion were in my heart and more than likely theirs.

My pastor’s sermon concluded when my nonprofit’s company picnic was underway miles away at a park pavilion. My sixteen coworkers and their partners and children played games, ate barbecue, and spent time together. The event was planned for Sunday morning.

And when I when I finished teaching Bible study and took a church friend home, the event was more than halfway over. My wife and I drove to catch the last end of it, and I knew the whole drive how much I wanted to be in the room with my fellow disciples in Christ and how disinterested I was in the company picnic. When we arrived, I saw how disinterested they were, too. 

I told my wife, “I have a mental timer set to be out of here in an hour or less.” No one ever said when the picnic would end. I thought I’d be walking up halfway through. But no. I walked up at the end.

People were packing up plates and readying to leave. Chemistry was non-existent. One of our office workhorses, who I admire for her diligence and skillfulness, said, “It’s been a thing.”

People barely said hi to me or my wife. It’s like they all wanted to be somewhere else, as far apart from each other as they could be. Then, within about ten minutes, they were gone. I said goodbye to my executive director and left with barbecue leftovers. She seemed disinterested in speaking to me or anyone. She verified that you taught a Bible class today. I confirmed. I’m not sure if anyone else knew. Maybe that explains the cold welcome.

I looked at my watch as my wife and I walked away. I glanced at her, lifted my eyebrows, and smirked. We laughed. We exchanged that glance until we were out of view of anyone who could have been at the pavilion.

“Wow.”

I said, “20 minutes total. That beats my hour.”

My wife and I laughed and ripped the company picnic to shreds the whole way home.

I prayed for my coworkers and managers, for myself, for a better week, for wisdom, and for the ability to work together despite our differences. I prayed for them, feeling insulted that they had the company picnic on Sunday morning, knowing my religious beliefs. I prayed for them even though most would not understand why I put God before work.

God is making it loud and clear what I’m supposed to be doing in life. I know that earning income and providing for a house and family is one of them, but this job is a necessary evil on the way to more direct and meaningful service to the Kingdom. I am to endure that distance, and I am to love the people who are hostile toward me, even if that religious animosity is done passive-aggressively.