What if the story went something like this?

Saul wasn't the kind of guy you'd invite to your Bible study. But one day on the road to Damascus he saw the light and did a complete 180, becoming a disciple of Jesus Christ. He went from terrorist to activist overnight. His new mission: convert the Gentiles.

To increase his chances of success, he adopted the Greek name Paul. Then one of his first stops was Galatia—lots of theological confusion there. So Paul took a crack at setting them straight.

Some in Galatia thought that they had to be circumcised to be right with God. Some thought they had to keep the whole Law. Many thought they had to do both. Still others said it was neither. That worried Paul. If he came down too firmly on one side or the other, he'd offend some people. But, God commanded Paul to give them the truth, so he tabled his concerns about friendship and sided with the far left camp, preaching that salvation is by grace alone. No need to cut yourself. No need to be slaves to the Law.

Paul's poll numbers immediately plummeted. His critics pounced during the Sunday talk shows claiming Paul was preaching a gospel of cheap grace. I knew it, Paul thought. I wanted so badly to make a good impression, but now I've blown it. Maybe it's not too late. Then he got inclusive.

"Actually, guys, you might be right," he backpedaled. "There's room for all of us under God's big tent. Maybe you can work your way into heaven and maybe you can't. Only God knows for sure." After that, they all liked Paul and respected his willingness to tolerate different viewpoints.

What if the story went something like that? What if Paul elected to be a people-pleaser rather than a God-pleaser? What if his primary concerns as a witness were getting along with people, not offending anyone, and minimizing confrontation?

Fortunately, Paul chose God-pleasing over people-pleasing. His first and only allegiance was to Jesus Christ. This mindset he summed up succinctly to the Galatians: "Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? … If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ" (Galatians 1:10).

Sometimes as we imitate Christ we win friends, but many times, in a world increasingly hostile to the truth, it leads to persecution. Paul could have avoided persecution had he been a people-pleaser. But he didn't and was vilified in Galatia, Thessalonica, and Corinth for it. Many of us know from personal experience: People-pleasing prevents persecution.

Pressure to Please Others At Work
Early in my academic life, and in response to what I thought was God's will for my career, I made an abrupt shift from doing mainstream management research (i.e. performing secularized studies and publishing the results in obscure, erudite journals) to doing Bible-based management research (i.e. researching God's Word for His guidance on workplace issues and publishing the results in book form). And I was struck by how things can fall into place when you say yes to God. Publishers were responding enthusiastically. Radio shows were calling. Speaking opportunities opened up. Newspaper columnists visited my office. It was, to say the least, an exciting time for me.

A colleague of mine—let's call her Lisa—was excited too: excited at the potential to get rid of me!

I was oblivious to Lisa's behind-the-scenes activities until a friend from the next office stopped by and closed my door. "You need to know something," she said to this naïve, untenured father of three. "Someone very influential is going door-to-door telling people to write negative letters when you come up for tenure."

Those of you in the teaching profession know what was at stake. If someone does not receive tenure, he is fired. Gone. Pink-slipped. Yesterday's news. It's a bizarre (and nerve-racking), all-or-nothing moment when one is either given lifetime job security or put out onto the street. Lisa, therefore, was doing something that would not only short-circuit my career but could threaten the well-being of my family too.

I asked my friend, who had herself been visited by my nemesis, what Lisa's concern was. The response caught me off guard: I had become Ken Roberts!

"Mike is doing research that clearly is not appropriate for a business school," Lisa claimed. "Christianity has no place in our curriculum, in our research program, or in the business world."

I had a right to be angry, I thought. I had a right to protest to the dean. And I had a right to confront Lisa about this. But fortunately, God is wiser and conferred on me an inner peace about the situation. By the time my friend had finished debriefing me, I didn't even want to know the assailant's name. I simply thanked my friend for her concern and told her not to worry about it.

A year later, the tenure decision went my way but the damage was done. Lisa, although unsuccessful in exterminating me, had sufficiently poisoned the environment so that several of my colleagues now considered me an oddity. Many had lost respect for me. Some wondered aloud (to others) why someone with real potential would give it all up for that anti-intellectual religious stuff. A few repeatedly made jokes about my work and two colleagues stopped talking to me altogether.

Now here's the point of this illustration. Persecution comes to workplace Christians, and it comes in many varieties. And on the job, it's seldom without consequence. In both my case and Ken Robert's case, there were, first of all, potential job consequences accompanying our expressions of faith. We could have easily met on the unemployment line had we lived in the same state. Beyond that, my particular case included significant social consequences as well. When people know that you are a follower of Jesus Christ—and that you take that seriously—some may go out of their way to harm you. It's a two-thousand-year-old tradition. And let me tell you firsthand that it makes for a really uncomfortable situation at work. Each time I walked past someone who was no longer speaking to me, it bothered me. Each time my former friends neglected to invite me to lunch, it annoyed me. Each time I had reached some milestone to receive virtually no congratulations from my peers, it frustrated me.

Perhaps you've felt similar discomfort. We all want to be liked, accepted, and respected by those around us in the workplace. So one of the worst things that can happen to us, we reason, is to stand out as different and to risk the mistreatment at the hands of our boss or peers. And it is precisely this fear of persecution that leads us to be people-leasers rather than God-pleasers in the workplace.

Workplace Research About People-Pleasing
Interestingly, organizational psychologists have investigated our tendency toward people pleasing, reaching conclusions that are helpful to workplace Christians. Of course, these Ph.D.'s don't use the term people pleasing. Too blue-collar. Instead, the more polished term is impression management: "the behaviors individuals employ to protect their self-image and influence the way they are perceived by significant others."^[1] When you strip away the jargon it's the same thing.

The best available research on impression management nicely supplements common sense. Most of us throughout our careers instinctively try to influence 1) how much people like us and 2) how much they will perceive that we are similar to them. We do things like agree with people even though we don't really agree with them, do favors for higher-ups that go well beyond what we want to do for them, subtly flatter people, smile when we don't feel like it, use false modesty.

It's our public face, and it's blemish-free.

Additionally, we want our coworkers to think that we fit in—that we are like them. Having others perceive that we are similar to them is one of the most effective ways to gain their friendship. (This is one of the most consistent findings in management literature.) In doing so, we sidestep some of the social consequences of being different.

According to research, we also sidestep the job consequences by managing our boss's impression of us. If we say and do things that signal to the boss that we are similar to him and that we fit the model of the ideal employee, research shows that we can affect things like the amount of work he gives us, the type of assignments we receive, the budget he allots for our work, and his willingness to accommodate our schedules.

But what happens when you step out of the mainstream in a secular workplace by admitting that your faith is important to you and that it affects the decisions you make, the way you work, and all your priorities?

That may seem pretty benign, but in many work environments, it's not. Once you "rebel" in this way, you've communicated that you are not similar to everyone else—everyone who keeps faith issues private and never talks about them in the workplace. As a result, the impression management works in reverse. That doesn't mean you'll have no friends or that the boss will hate you, only that you are more likely to run into those adverse job and social consequences. In some workplaces, you may even experience significant persecution, anything from missing a promotion to the business equivalent of capital punishment: being fired.

Such is the nature of living as a God-pleaser. It's risky, and it always has been.

Persecution? A Blessing?
It sounds convoluted—like a sales pitch that tries to turn a liability into an asset. "Sure, this beauty doesn't have air-conditioning, but think of the gas money you'll save as a result!"

But scripture tells us that committed Christians will run into resistance. John stated plainly, "Do not be surprised, my brothers, if the world hates you" (I John 3:13). Hates you. That's strong language, and it's an echo from his Gospel, where he quotes Jesus as saying, "If you belonged to this world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world … That is why the world hates you" (John 15:19).

Hates you. Even stronger language is the Greek word that underlies Jesus' prophesy: miseo. The word connotes an active hatred—that is, a hatred that is not content to remain inside a person. It is a hatred that culminates in external action, namely, persecution. It's no wonder that Jesus continued his warning: "Remember the words I spoke to you: 'No servant is greater than his master.' If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also" (John 15:20). Persecution in some form or another is a thermometer of Christian commitment.

It's also a thermostat. Persecution is a vehicle God uses to transform us from lukewarm to red-hot followers. You might ask, "How is it a blessing with someone is gossiping about me? How is it a blessing when my job is threatened because of my faith? Why doesn't God bless me by FedExing a lightening bolt to this atheist who's using me as a verbal punching bag?" Perhaps because such trials have the capacity to make us stronger, to ratchet up our commitment, to make us more Christ-like.

What this means, then, is that when someone wrongs you because of your faith, you should take heart. Nothing sanctifies you more quickly. There's no need to run from persecution. There's no need to become a people-pleaser. There's no need to retaliate. In fact, you may find some humor in his or her behavior, for those who persecute you unwittingly do God's work! Without knowing it, they are operating as God's agent to strengthen and mature those who love Him. How's that for God's turning the tables?

Unwrapping God's Gift
Let's come back to Paul. What if, as he moved from job site to job site, he avoided persecution by people-pleasing? (And what if we were to do the same?)

For one thing, those hearing Paul's words would have suffered, having been denied access to the gospel. None of them would have been able to tap into the power of the gospel because Paul would have been too preoccupied with his image to plug them in.

For another, Paul the people-pleaser would have lost out on something too—not his salvation, but his sanctification. By avoiding persecution, Paul would have deprived himself of God's continuing work of the Holy Spirit in him. His maturity in Christ would have stalled at Damascus.

But Paul rejected people-pleasing, choosing instead to risk persecution. His experience and his words underscore two lessons. First, persecution is inevitable for the committed Christian: "In fact, everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted" (2 Timothy 3:12).

Second, persecution can be a blessing because it helps us toward Christ-like character: "We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope" (Romans 5:3).

Conquer the obstacle of people-pleasing and make yourself vulnerable to whatever persecution God may want to use in your life. As you do, you will find, like Paul, that the gift far exceeds any temporary discomfort. The result is a more Christ-like character and fulfillment beyond anything you've yet experienced.

From Faith At Work. Copyright 2000 by Michael Zigarelli. Used by permission.

Michael Zigarelli is the dean of Regent University School of Business and the author of Ordinary People Extraordinary Leaders, Faith At Work, and Christianity 9 to 5.

[1] Sandy J. Wayne and Robert C. Liden, "Effects of Impression Management on Performance Ratings: A Longitudinal Study," Academy of Management Journal 38, no. 1 (1995): 232.