I have two schools of thought when it comes to work and money. One is that I am called to do certain work and how much money I make at it is irrelevant. I don’t buy the belief that our value equals our net worth. I don’t buy the belief that well-paid work is inherently more valuable than low-paid work or the common assumption in some circles that a good teacher is less talented and industrious than a CEO. By the end of my senior year of college, I was clear that money wasn’t my prime motivator, and I’ve been making unconventional career choices ever since that have brought me great satisfaction, though not great wealth. 

But lately I’ve been learning a different set of lessons and trying to integrate them into my worldview. I am coming to appreciate the idea of valuing one’s self and one’s work by expecting to be paid fairly for it. Over the years, I’ve been part of certain circles where being paid poorly is almost a badge of honor, where it is assumed that a teacher must be morally superior to a CEO, where exploiting people is alright, as long as it’s for a cause. I’m coming to realize that this approach isn’t right either.

Partly I may be reacting to the activist martyrdom complex Michael Learner described in Surplus Powerlessness (an interesting book about why certain people feel more powerless than they really are). For women, it may have to do with internalized sexism. In February I attended a workshop on pay negotiation during a conference for women at Duke. It was striking how many accomplished women had trouble asking for money for themselves, though one noted that she could negotiate a million dollar deal for a client, no problem. As I negotiate pay for speaking engagements, I’m facing this hurdle in myself, compounded with the Quaker assumption that if you are following a leading, you don’t need to be paid—though a person following a leading still presumably needs to pay bills, for which money comes in quite handy.

My writer friends struggle with this issue a lot. Many of them have made the unconventional choices, followed their callings, yet still struggle to make their callings sustainable. They know that money isn’t everything, and that money isn’t irrelevant either. A few have figured it out, finding ways to do meaningful work for compensation that shows a value for their work and allows them to keep doing it. One of them recently shared her story with a group of other writers, and it seemed really helpful—inspiring, even.

I have the sense that there is a balanced approach to this that I am still trying to figure out. There is a way to value our selves and trust God’s abundance without promoting materialism. There are ways to earn money that don’t exploit others or require being exploited, and there are ways of spending money that support things like sustainable agriculture, rather than unsustainable consumption. I think part of the difficulty in finding the balance comes from the fact that people are embarrassed to talk about money openly. It seems that hearing each others struggles with these issues might be helpful.