Six Career Lessons I’ve Learned in 16 Years

Sixteen years into my career, I’ve learned enough to know how much I still don’t know. That may be one of the first lessons experience teaches us.

When I entered the workforce, I naturally thought about a career largely in terms of destinations: find the right opportunity, become good at what you do, earn more responsibility, advance and build something. There’s nothing inherently wrong with any of those ambitions. I still have plenty of them. But 16 years have given me a different appreciation for the journey.

I’ve succeeded and failed. I’ve led people and been led by others. I’ve been promoted, changed directions, started over and watched some professional ambitions turn out differently than I imagined. Through all of it, I’ve also learned that reflection is most useful when I keep my own hands on the plow. It would be easy to write about what someone else should have done differently along the way. There are lessons there, certainly, but these are lessons I am responsible for practicing myself.

Looking back, six stand out.

1. Your Career Will Make More Sense in Retrospect

We put tremendous pressure on ourselves to make every career move look like progress. Upward is good. Sideways is questionable. Backward must mean something went wrong. Real careers are rarely that tidy.

Sometimes a position gives you experience you won’t understand the value of until years later. Sometimes the job you thought was preparing you for one destination is actually preparing you for something completely different. My own career has moved through accounting, management, customer-facing work, compliance, administration and other responsibilities that don’t always form an obvious straight line on paper. In practice, those experiences overlap constantly.

I’ve learned to stop demanding that every season explain itself while I’m still living it. Learn what you can, develop transferable skills and pay attention to what a particular season is producing in you. Today’s detour may become tomorrow’s preparation.

2. Understand the Work—Don’t Just Complete It

Early in a career, completing the assigned task feels like competence. Eventually, I learned to ask more questions: Why are we doing this? What happens before it reaches me? Where does it go afterward? Who depends on it? What happens if it’s wrong?

There’s a significant difference between knowing a process and understanding a system. The person who understands the system can troubleshoot when the normal process breaks, recognize connections that aren’t immediately obvious and understand how seemingly small decisions affect people farther downstream.

That distinction will probably become even more important as artificial intelligence and automation handle more mechanical tasks. Knowing which button to push may become less valuable; understanding why the button exists will become more valuable. Don’t become indispensable because you’re the only person who knows how to perform a task. Become valuable because you understand what the organization is trying to accomplish and how your work contributes to it.

3. Become Really Good at Learning

I’ve spent portions of my career walking into situations where I didn’t know nearly as much as I wanted to know. That can be uncomfortable, particularly as you progress professionally and begin feeling as though your experience should mean you already have the answers.

But I’ve learned there is a massive difference between inexperience and incuriosity. You don’t have to enter every room knowing everything. You do need enough humility to ask questions and enough confidence to say, “I don’t understand this yet.” Investigate discrepancies instead of working around them. Receive correction without allowing embarrassment to stop the learning process. Be willing to discover that the way you’ve always done something may not be the best way to do it now.

Some of my greatest professional growth has happened when I stopped worrying about whether I should already know something and simply started learning it. You don’t have to know everything. Become someone who knows how to learn.

4. Don’t Ask Your Career to Tell You Who You Are

This one has taken me longer to learn. There’s nothing wrong with ambition. Work can be meaningful, accomplishment can be satisfying, and promotions and professional milestones are worth celebrating. I believe we should take our work seriously and pursue excellence in whatever has been entrusted to us.

But a career makes a terrible identity.

Jobs change. Companies change. Leaders change. Priorities change. Doors we expect to open sometimes don’t, while doors we thought would remain open sometimes close. And sometimes the professional future we imagined simply doesn’t happen.

If our identity is anchored to our career, those experiences become more than disappointments. They can begin to feel like verdicts about our worth. I want to care deeply about what I do without requiring my work to tell me who I am. I want to remain ambitious without making achievement responsible for answering questions it was never capable of answering.

Build an identity sturdy enough to survive professional disappointment.

5. If You Lead People, Know Them

I’ve become increasingly convinced that getting to know the people you lead isn’t an optional component of leadership. It’s part of the job.

Metrics matter. Performance matters. Professional development matters. Accountability matters. But none of those things completely describes a human being. Good leadership also notices behavior, confidence, collaboration, well-being and maturation. What motivates this person? What discourages them? How have they grown? How do they respond under pressure? What environment allows them to do their best work? Are you evaluating only what they produce, or are you paying attention to the person they are becoming?

Knowing people doesn’t eliminate accountability; it gives accountability context. There are still expectations to meet and difficult conversations to have. But the more a leader understands the person behind the performance, the better equipped that leader is to distinguish between a pattern that needs correction, a person who needs development and a human being who may simply be navigating a difficult season.

And responsibility runs both ways. If I’m being led, I have some responsibility to allow myself to be known—to communicate, receive feedback, explain how I work and not expect someone else to decipher me entirely on their own. Healthy organizations don’t merely develop better employees. They develop people.

6. How You Work With People Will Outlast Much of the Work

Sixteen years have introduced me to plenty of projects that once felt incredibly important. Deadlines felt enormous. Problems demanded immediate attention. There were assignments that consumed hours of thought and projects that seemed, at the time, as though they would define an entire season of my career.

Many of them barely cross my mind anymore. But I remember people.

I remember those who taught me something, encouraged me, showed patience and made room for me to grow. I also remember moments when I should have listened better, communicated better, extended more grace or handled something differently. Time has a way of shrinking the urgency of yesterday’s project while clarifying the significance of how we treated the people who worked on it with us.

Someday, the spreadsheet will be replaced. The project will end. The organizational chart will change. Someone else will sit in your chair. The work matters, but so does the effect we have on the people sharing that stretch of road with us.

Sixteen years in, perhaps that’s what has changed most about how I define a successful career. I still want to build something worthwhile. I want to become excellent at my craft, stay curious and keep growing. I hope I’m still doing all of those things 16 years from now.

But don’t become so focused on building a career that you forget you’re also building a life. And don’t become so good at the work that you forget the people doing it beside you.

Graphic creds: ChatGPT

When the Church Looks Less Like Jesus

A call to remember who the Church belongs to—and what the world should see in us.

The Church Belongs to Jesus

What should people encounter when they encounter the Church?

Should they leave impressed by our excellence? Inspired by our music? Encouraged by our preaching? Or should they leave saying, “I caught a glimpse of Jesus.”

That question matters because the Church belongs to Him. She is not ours to redefine, market, or mold according to the preferences of any generation. Scripture describes her as the Body of Christ (1 Corinthians 12:27), the household of God (Ephesians 2:19), and the Bride for whom Christ willingly laid down His life (Ephesians 5:25–27).

If she belongs to Christ, every generation must ask one simple question: Are we becoming more like Jesus? Not more successful. Not more influential. Not more visible. More like Jesus.

To look like Him is to love what He loves, serve as He served, welcome as He welcomed, and make disciples as He commanded. Everything else flows from that.

A Shared Life, Not a Weekly Event

The New Testament presents a compelling vision of the Church. Believers devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, fellowship, the breaking of bread, and prayer (Acts 2:42). They shared with those in need (Acts 2:44–45), bore one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2), rejected favoritism (James 2:1–9), practiced hospitality (1 Peter 4:9), and became known by their love (John 13:34–35).

This was not simply a worship service. It was a shared life. They did not merely attend together. They belonged to one another.

The early Church was not perfect. Acts and the New Testament letters reveal conflict, sin, and correction. Yet they also reveal a people willing to repent and reorder their lives around Christ. That picture should challenge us: Have we unintentionally settled for something smaller than what Scripture describes?

When Activity Replaces Faithfulness

The modern Church has become remarkably effective at gathering people. We organize ministries, communicate vision, create excellent environments, and steward resources wisely. Those things can honor God. But excellence must never replace obedience.

  • Programs cannot replace people.
  • Production cannot replace presence.
  • Attendance cannot replace discipleship.

Methods are servants. They must never become masters.

One temptation facing the Western Church is to mistake activity for faithfulness. The question is whether our methods have quietly become our measurements of success. Jesus did not commission His followers to build impressive institutions; He commanded them to make disciples (Matthew 28:19–20). Paul wrote, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth” (1 Corinthians 3:6).

Faithfulness belongs to us. Growth belongs to God.

Christ gave leaders to the Church “to equip the saints for the work of ministry” until the whole body matures in Him (Ephesians 4:11–16). Healthy ministry is measured by whether God’s people are becoming more like Jesus together.

The earliest believers did not simply invite people to a gathering. They carried the life of Christ wherever they went. Their worship overflowed into hospitality, their teaching into discipleship, their fellowship into generosity, and their prayers into courageous witness.

Returning to Our First Love

Churches do not drift overnight. Neither do believers. Even the church in Ephesus—commended for perseverance and discernment—heard these sobering words from Jesus: “You have abandoned the love you had at first” (Revelation 2:4). Their greatest problem was not incompetence. It was misplaced affection.

That warning still echoes. We can become more competent while becoming less dependent upon God, more organized while becoming less compassionate, and more influential while becoming less Christlike.

The greatest threat to the Church has rarely been opposition from the outside. More often, it has been gradual drift from the inside.

Sent Belong the Walls

Outreach has not disappeared from the Church. Countless congregations faithfully serve their communities in ways that honor Christ. Yet we should ask whether outreach has slowly moved from being part of the Church’s identity to becoming one ministry among many.

The ministries hardest to promote are often the ministries Scripture emphasizes most: visiting the sick, welcoming the stranger, caring for widows and orphans, bearing burdens, opening our homes, and serving without recognition (James 1:27; Matthew 25:34–40; Galatians 6:2). These acts rarely generate headlines, fill auditoriums, or build anyone’s platform. But they look remarkably like Jesus.

The Church was never called merely to invite people into a building. She was called to carry the presence of Christ into the world.

More Than Consumers

Perhaps nowhere is self-examination more necessary than in the way we approach gathering together. We ask: Did I enjoy the worship? Did the sermon encourage me? Did I feel fed today?

Those are not wrong questions. They are incomplete.

The New Testament invites us to ask another set of questions: Whom did I encourage? Whose burden did I help carry? Who experienced the love of Christ through me? Who did I welcome, forgive, or serve?

Church was never intended to function like a spiritual gas station where we stop once a week to refill before returning to life unchanged. If we leave our gatherings knowing more about Christ but looking no more like Him, we have misunderstood the purpose of gathering.

Worship that truly encounters God does not terminate on itself. It overflows into love, service, mercy, justice, humility, forgiveness, generosity, and sacrificial care.

Hungry Without Agenda

The same examination applies to every gift within the Church. Whether someone teaches, preaches, writes, leads worship, or serves behind the scenes, every ability entrusted by God exists to make much of Christ. Whenever a gift begins drawing attention primarily to the person using it, we have drifted from its purpose.

The platform has never been the center of worship. Christ is.

I believe believers across the world are quietly praying for communities simply hungry for Christ—without agenda, without platform-building, without chasing influence for its own sake. Communities whose greatest ambition is to know Christ and make Him known. Where people serve because they love, give because they have received grace, worship because God is worthy, and gather because they genuinely belong to one another.

Those communities may never become famous. But heaven has never measured faithfulness by fame. The Church has never needed more influence than faithfulness. She has only ever needed more of Christ.

Call Back to Christ

The prophet Micah summarized God’s desire with remarkable simplicity:

“He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8)

Perhaps the Church today needs that reminder as much as any generation before us. This is not a call to abandon Christ’s Bride. It is a call to love her enough to invite her continually back to her first love.

The answer to an imperfect Church has never been abandoning her. The answer has always been allowing Christ to continue sanctifying her—including us.

May we have the humility to examine ourselves before we examine others. May we have the courage to repent wherever we have drifted. May we become people hungry for Christ without agenda—content to decrease so that He might increase.

And until the day we finally see our Savior face to face, may the watching world first catch a glimpse of Him in us.

For that has always been the Church’s greatest witness.

Graphics created in ChatGPT