For the season when human applause falls silent.

Work heartily, as for the Lord, and not for men. So whose eye is on your hands when the human audience goes quiet? You have been performing for a row of faces—supervisors and clients, the recruiter who might call back. The row empties, and you are left holding the work itself.

The false refuge is the next job, imagined as the stage where you will finally be seen. If the audience is human, the applause will always be borrowed, and the silence will always return. You know this. You have felt your worth rise and fall with a notification.

Christ worked under the Father's eye when human judges saw nothing worth keeping. Now you serve that Lord Christ, and from him you receive the reward of the inheritance—not a restored salary, but a share in his own life. His eye on your work is not surveillance; it is steadfastness.

Work heartily, then, for the one who is already watching. The empty seats do not change the one who is watching. Will you let them drive you to the eye that never left you?