For years—decades, really—I have heard Christians talk about revival.

We pray for a season when God moves with unusual power. Healings happen. People become hungry for truth. Large numbers begin examining their lives, turning toward God, taking their faith seriously, and loving others with greater efficacy.

I have prayed for that too.

But lately, I have begun to recognize something uncomfortable in my prayers. Somewhere beneath them has been the assumption that we are ready and God is not.

We are waiting for Him to step up to the plate.

We have asked Him to send the power, awaken the people, heal the land, and make something happen. And when it does not happen in the way we imagined, it can almost seem as though God is being stingy—as though He possesses all this power but is strangely unwilling to share it with us.

I am beginning to wonder whether I have been looking at revival from the wrong direction.

Would We Actually Want the Kingdom?

Jesus spoke constantly about the Kingdom of God—the range of His loving and effective rule.

I have spent much of my life assuming that people naturally want that Kingdom. But do we?

Many of us were raised with a version of Christianity in which making a decision to “accept Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior” felt like the finish line. The central question was where we would go when we died. We needed the right answer, the right prayer, or the right words to present at the gate.

I still believe trusting Jesus matters deeply. But I no longer believe Jesus came merely to give us the correct password for heaven.

He invited us into a Kingdom.

He invited us to live under the rule of a King who loves us, teaches us, corrects us, and gradually forms us into people who can love God, love others, and rightly love ourselves.

That is more than a decision. It is a life of development.

Not development in a self-help sense—as though we can manufacture a better version of ourselves through enough effort. Scripture calls us God’s workmanship. He is shaping us. Yet we are not passive material. We listen, respond, practice, surrender, and cooperate with what He is doing.

And for many of us, the workplace is one of the primary places where that formation occurs.

It is easy to talk about patience until a coworker repeatedly disappoints us.

It is easy to talk about trust until a business decision threatens our income.

It is easy to talk about loving people until an employee resists our leadership, a customer treats us unfairly, or a competitor appears to be succeeding at our expense.

The workplace has a way of revealing whether the Kingdom is merely something we believe in—or something we are learning to live within.

“That Will Preach”

It is easy to hear the teachings of Jesus and admire them.

Forgive those who hurt you.

Do not worry about tomorrow.

Love your enemies.

Give without needing recognition.

Tell the truth.

Do not judge another person while ignoring what is happening inside you.

We can hear those teachings and say, “That is powerful. That will preach.”

But admiration is not the same as alignment.

I am not trying to fully unpack each of these teachings here. I simply want to show the difference between admiring the words of Jesus and allowing them to form us.

Forgiveness

Jesus did not merely suggest forgiveness. He placed it near the center of life in His Kingdom:

“Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.”

The shallow response is to tell ourselves, “I need to forgive,” and then try harder to stop feeling hurt.

That becomes especially difficult at work.

A leader takes credit for our idea. A business partner breaks an agreement. An employee embarrasses us in front of the team. A coworker spreads something untrue. A client leaves after years of faithful service and never explains why.

The easy response is to smile, act professional, and quietly carry the offense for the next five years…or longer.

But pretending we are not hurt is not forgiveness.

The deeper work asks harder questions:

What exactly happened?

What did I lose?

What story have I attached to the injury?

Do I need to have an honest conversation, clarify expectations, change the level of trust, or create appropriate distance?

Can I release revenge without pretending the behavior was acceptable?

Forgiveness does not require us to ignore poor performance, abandon accountability, or immediately restore trust. It means we refuse to let another person’s wrongdoing shape us into someone bitter, vindictive, or closedhearted.

That kind of forgiveness must be practiced.

Worry

Jesus said:

“Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.”

The shallow response is, “I know I should not worry. I need to have more faith.”

That usually gives us one more thing to worry about: the fact that we are worrying.

Work gives us endless material.

Will we make payroll? Will the customer sign the agreement? Will the team accept the changes we are making? Will my job still exist six months from now? What if I make the wrong decision? What if the business never becomes what I believed it could become?

The deeper work asks:

What am I actually afraid will happen?

What am I trying to control?

What outcome have I begun to believe I must have in order to be secure?

What belongs to me, and what outcome must I release?

Can I prepare thoroughly without believing everything depends on me?

Can I trust that the Father will remain present and good even if this season does not unfold as I hope?

Freedom from worry is not passivity. It does not mean we stop planning, forecasting, communicating, or preparing.

It means we act responsibly without worshiping control.

It means we learn to lead from trust rather than fear.

Loving Our Enemies

Jesus said:

“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

The easy version is to agree that enemy-love is beautiful—in principle.

The deeper version begins when someone threatens something we value.

A competitor undercuts our price. A former employee criticizes us publicly. A coworker undermines our authority. A customer posts an unfair review. A leader repeatedly overlooks our contribution.

Then the questions become personal:

Can I desire this person’s good without approving of what they have done?

Can I speak truth without humiliating them?

Can I defend what matters without becoming cruel?

Can I hold someone accountable without needing to punish them?

Loving an enemy does not mean giving someone unrestricted access, ignoring misconduct, or refusing to protect the people entrusted to us.

But it does mean that even in conflict, the person in front of us remains a person—not merely an obstacle, a problem, or a threat.

That kind of love would change many workplaces.

Truthfulness

Jesus also taught us to let our “yes” be yes and our “no” be no.

That sounds simple until truth becomes expensive.

Do we tell a client what they want to hear in order to secure the sale?

Do we avoid giving an employee needed feedback because we do not want an uncomfortable conversation?

Do we hide our mistakes, shift blame, or allow another person to carry responsibility for something we helped create?

Do we say that people matter while rewarding only numbers, output, and results?

Kingdom truthfulness is more than avoiding lies.

It is learning to live without manipulation.

It is having the courage to say, “I was wrong.”

It is asking for forgiveness when our leadership causes harm.

It is telling someone when trust is being eroded—and celebrating when it is being rebuilt.

Truth spoken without love can become a weapon. Love without truth can become avoidance.

The Kingdom invites us to practice both.

Perhaps Revival Begins Closer Than We Think

This brings me back to revival.

I still want to see God move powerfully. I still pray for healing, awakening, repentance, reconciliation, and a renewed hunger for truth.

But perhaps I have been asking God to revive the world while resisting the ways He wants to revive me.

Perhaps revival is not only something that falls upon us. Perhaps it is also something we make room for as we agree with the King and submit ourselves to His loving rule.

And perhaps one of the places that revival becomes most visible is at work.

What would happen if business owners became people who were not ruled by fear?

What if leaders stopped protecting their image and became quick to admit mistakes?

What if employees worked with excellence even when no one was watching?

What if competitors were treated with dignity?

What if difficult conversations were approached with courage, truth, and care?

What if success was measured not only by what we built, but also by the kind of people we became while building it?

What if Christians in the workplace became known not merely for what they opposed, but for their honesty, generosity, humility, courage, forgiveness, and love?

That might not look like the revival meetings I imagined growing up.

But imagine thousands of workplaces being quietly transformed because the people within them were increasingly aligned with the Kingdom of God.

Imagine Christians who carried the presence and character of Jesus into meetings, hiring decisions, conflicts, financial pressures, customer conversations, and moments when doing the right thing carried a cost.

Would that count as revival?

I think it might.

So perhaps my prayer is changing.

God, send revival.

And begin with me.

Show me where I remain outside Your loving rule. Reveal where I admire the teachings of Jesus but resist practicing them. Form me into Your workmanship. Teach me to listen, surrender, trust, and obey.

Then let the life You are growing in me flow into my work, my leadership, my relationships, and my community.

Let me become one small stream of living water in a parched land.