Good morning, Digital Neighbors! Happy Wednesday! I hope your week is going along well, halfway through to the weekend, which for many seems to be all that matters. I couldn't imagine doing a job that I loathed and looking forward only to the weekend as a source of relief and escape before I had to return to something that, for five days, I considered only a source of tedious employment. Consider the following some unsolicited perspective, as I have listened to many 9-to-5ers over the years.
I am not saying that we can always love our job; that is impossible given the brokenness of human nature. But I am thinking that poor discernment is at work when you hate your job. If the only satisfaction work brings is payment, I doubt it is worth it. If we never reach the higher rungs of satisfaction with loving what we do and who we are becoming, I would hope that we can at least find some level of meaningfulness, where we see what we do as meaningful, as mattering in some small way to the betterment of the human endeavor.
If your work cannot even bring you that level of consolation, I hope you have people you work beside who make showing up more worthwhile. I hope they are workmates with whom you can commiserate, ones who make you laugh, and are something more than just brothers and sisters of constant complaint. Occasional complaint is understandable; there's no escaping the broken world, and these days it looks worse and more fragile than ever. But constant complaint is wearisome. We all know the type, and if you don't, you are probably one of them. Sorry to break the news to you. Chances are your coworkers know all too well when they say, "There she goes again," or "He's really wound up today."
Good news: you have a choice about what you focus on. It can change, but it takes a shift from your acceptable norm to something different, a new focus that does not ignore the challenges of work but does not focus solely on dissatisfaction. Good workmates can share laughter, share stories, and take an interest in the lives of those working beside them (all dependent on the level of sharing and confiding they feel comfortable with). Workmates do not have to be friends, but they can be the occasion of discovering a new one.
If you have none of that, find a new job. It really is not worth it. If you cannot change the situation of your work, the daily leeching will never get better, and it's not worth your sanity. I know it may not be that easy, but showing up every day isn't either. Whoever you are, if this resonates with you, know you are in my prayers, and I pray you can find something else that provides without all the baggage and dreariness of the day.
A prayer for the day, for you and for all of us as we make our way through this life to another place of belonging, free of the trials of this world. This prayer seems a far cry from being answered, since we no longer share the common sentiments of when it was first written, but one can hope that such memories and desires are not completely forgotten. Peace, my dear digital neighbors.
O God, grant us a vision of our city, fair as she might be; a city of justice, where none shall prey on others; a city of plenty, where vice and poverty shall cease to fester; a city of brotherhood, where all success shall be founded on service, and honour shall be given to nobleness alone; a city of peace, where order shall not rest on force, but on the love of all for the city, the great mother of the common life and weal. Hear thou, O Lord, the silent prayer of all our hearts as we each pledge our time and strength and thought to speed the day of her coming beauty and righteousness. Amen. — Walter Rauschenbusch
Autumn Sunshine - Dan Freeman - Unsplash
Today marks the three hundred and thirtieth birthday of the Frenchman François-Marie Arouet, better known by his nom de plume, Voltaire (1694-1778).
Born into a bourgeois family during the reign of Louis XIV, the “Sun King” (r. 1643-1715), Voltaire suffered tragedy at a young age when his mother died. Never close with his father or brother, Voltaire exhibited a rebellious attitude toward authority from his youth. His brilliant mind was fostered in the care of the Society of Jesus, who introduced him to the joys of literature and theater. Despite his later criticisms against the Church, Voltaire, throughout his life, fondly recalled his dedicated Jesuit teachers.
Although he spent time as a civil servant in the French embassy to the Hague, Voltaire’s main love was writing—an endeavor where he excelled in various genres, including poetry, which led to his appointment as the royal court poet for King Louis XV. Widely recognized as one of the greatest French writers, and even hyperbolically referred to by ...
Padre - Tom Miller invites you to a Coffee Talk, Speakeasies, Schmoozes, Tea Times, Afterhours and other gatherings.
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2026 Coffee Talk with the ADD Irregulars
Thursday, January 1, 2026
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Coffee Talk - Daily beginning at 6:00 AM Central Time Zone - USA
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Other chats as posted in the community.
XIII
The Proud Minister
One day there came into the Garden a man in torn clothes badly bruised and cut, who said to the Lover, “In the name of the Beloved I demand your help.”
So the Lover and the Disciple let him in and dressed his wounds and prepared the best of the vegetables from the Garden for him to eat. When his wounds had been dressed and he had eaten and rested the Lover asked him how he had fallen into this plight, to which the man replied, “I was Minister of the Beloved in a city near this place, where I preached His gospel and expounded His doctrine to the people. I pointed out to them how their sins had made them wholly hateful to the Beloved and how therefore they were utterly beyond the range of His love and He would condemn them to eternal torments, whereon some fell into despair and wept bitterly but many were angry. One day the magistrates called me before them and begged me to leave the city and preach elsewhere for they said I had made many people so angry and desperate that they feared there might be a riot and they might not be able to protect me but that I might suffer some injury. I, however, very zealous for the Beloved and believing that the magistrates only feared that their own sins might be proclaimed, preached the more vehemently, denounced the magistrates and made it abundantly clear that the whole wicked city was foredoomed to eternal punishment by the just provision of the Beloved. Whereon a mob, stirred up no doubt by the corrupt and venal magistrates, fell upon me with sticks and stones, nearly killing me and driving me out of the city in the state in which I came to you.”
“My friend,” said the Lover, “this was not a good deed of yours, for besides denying the unfathomable compassion of the Beloved, you have by your obstinacy caused these people to commit a grievous sin, and this cannot be pleasing to the Beloved, that through you who profess to be His minister the people should become worse. Surely you remember that He Himself said, ‘If they persecute you in one city flee to another.’”
Therefore the man was very angry, and cursing the Lover, said, “I see that I have had a very false report of you and I do not believe that you are a servant of the Beloved at all. When I came to you so injured for the Beloved’s sake you set before me only herbs and fruits although the garden is full of birds which you could have killed to make me a worthy meal. I shall proclaim everywhere that you are no true servant of the Beloved but a mere falterer who dares not suffer in the cause of the Beloved. Be sure that you are foreordained to eternal torments who suffer nothing here.”
For the man was so blinded by his own pride that he could not perceive the scars on the hands and feet and the brows of the Lover nor how the cloth beneath the armpits of his tunic was dyed with a red dye. So he went out of the Garden cursing and shouting.
But the Lover looked sad and said, “A man like this does much harm to the cause of the Beloved, for by thus speaking falsely about the Beloved he may bring men to fear Him but none to love Him, and by love alone can any man approach the Beloved.”
