Corporatology 007: The Theology of Interruption
This is about dethroning productivity as identity. Surrendering to interruption as a form of healing. Sometimes God doesn’t whisper “rest.” He dismantles your reason not to, and it feels violent.
This is about dethroning productivity as identity. Surrendering to interruption as a form of healing. Sometimes God doesn’t whisper “rest.” He dismantles your reason not to, and it feels violent.
The most radical thing a leader can do during performance review season is not to abolish the process, but to refuse the gods behind it.
Starting something new doesn’t automatically mean I feel brave. Sometimes it just means I'm willing. Maybe I'm still standing in the winepress— even while taking the next step. And then this scripture surfaced, steady and unmistakable: “I have called you by name; you are mine.” — Isaiah 43:1
There’s a version of success that looks clean on paper and hollow in real life. The calendar fills. The goals get sharper. The wins get louder. And somehow—without a dramatic fall or a moral failure—you wake up realizing you’ve misplaced what mattered most.
Sometimes God brings the storm not to destroy — but to move us toward ground we never would have chosen, yet deeply need.
God doesn’t waste endings. He rewrites beginnings. Mine starts by naming the rules I didn’t plan to break, but couldn’t keep. Well… let's be real, maybe I meant to break a few of them. After all, rules—like The Code—are more what you’d call guidelines. Parlay.
God doesn’t waste endings. He rewrites beginnings. Mine starts by naming the rules I didn’t plan to break, but couldn’t keep. Well… let's be real, maybe I meant to break a few of them. After all, rules—like The Code—are more what you’d call guidelines. Parlay.
Resolutions aren’t foolish — they’re honest attempts to live better — but they collapse when they’re built on measurements that were never meant to carry the weight of our worth.
I got mixed up and overconditioned. Thinking presence was production. I stayed on — hyper-responsive, always available, moving, ready. I rarely stopped — not even when someone came to my desk. I regret that.
Favoritism is the unofficial currency of the workplace. But we don’t call it favoritism. We call it visibility, potential, culture fit, executive presence, star talent. A curated vocabulary designed to ease the conscience while keeping the hierarchy intact.
Structure without soul produces compliance, not conviction. It kills the whisper of calling and replaces it with checklists. The great irony is that it began with good intent — to make work easier, fairer, clearer.
Sure, it probably cost me my job, my position, my vision for what could have been… but it gave me something better: peace, clarity, and a spark.
Corporatology
Burnout isn’t just “being tired.” It’s a full-scale operational failure of the mind, body, and soul — a quiet hemorrhaging of energy, clarity, purpose, and presence.
Corporatology
Real family doesn’t come with fine print. Real belonging doesn’t require self-erasure. And real identity doesn’t crumble when a system stops clapping.
Corporatology
Corporate America has its own gospel. It preaches early mornings, late nights, and just one more email. It's the sanctification of schedules, Slack messages, meetings, and working lunches. It baptizes burnout as ambition. It calls exhaustion excellence.
Corporatology
Structure, for me, is not the enemy. It is the scaffolding that allows me to build calm in the storm. I’ve spent the last several years of my career inside the corporate machine.