Christ in the Oilfield!

For years, I drove what felt like endless caliche lease roads, where two-tracks fade into no tracks at all. Roads so brutal that after twelve to fourteen hours behind the wheel, your neck stiffens and your bones ache. The wind never seemed to rest. Dust storms would rise without warning, and when the rain finally came, it didn’t wash the land clean; it turned the roads into rivers of mud. The oilfield can grind a man down physically. But if he is not careful, it can grind him down spiritually as well.

Looking back, I am not proud of the language I used in those years. It was unnecessary; harsh, careless, and unworthy. I could have made my point a thousand other ways. Yet in that culture, it seemed normal. The hours were long, the work demanding, and the truck speakers often filled with noise; talk radio, commentary, endless chatter that added nothing to the soul. I was constantly consuming words, but very few nourished me.

There is a Latin phrase that captures what I now understand I desperately needed: Post Tenebras Lux “After darkness, light.” I drove through literal dust and darkness many days, but a deeper darkness lingered in neglecting the means of grace. Scripture was accessible. Sermons were available. Hymns could have filled the cab instead of noise. The Word of God could have shaped those miles. Yet too often, it did not.

Recently, I had the great privilege of hearing a faithful preacher expound upon Soli Deo Gloria; glory to God alone. Not merely as a banner or theological slogan, but as the animating principle of life itself. Glory to God alone in how we speak. Glory to God alone in how we work. Glory to God alone in how we spend our hidden hours when no one else sees.

That message arrested me. It forced me to look back at those lonely roads and ask: What was shaping my heart during those miles? Was Christ present in my labor, or was He compartmentalized to Sundays? The doctrine is clear: there is no square inch of creation over which Christ does not say, “Mine.” That includes caliche roads, drilling sites, and dusty lease gates. The oilfield is not outside His lordship.

I now think of all the time that could have been spent nourishing my soul, for my sake and for my family’s. Those hours were not neutral. They were formative. They were shaping affections, strengthening habits, and directing my thoughts either toward Christ or away from Him. Work is not merely about production; it is about worship. Either we labor unto the Lord, or we labor unto self.

Christ in the oilfield means more than praying before a shift. It means recognizing that the same sovereign Lord who governs the galaxies governs the pump jack. It means repentance where repentance is due. It means replacing noise with truth. It means stewarding long drives as opportunities for growth rather than as escapes. It means bringing every word, every mile, every storm, and every quiet sunrise under the banner of Soli Deo Gloria.

After darkness, light. Not because we find it within ourselves, but because Christ is the Light. And even on the roughest lease road, His glory can and must shine.

If you are in the West Texas (Midland or Odessa) area and are seeking faithful, verse-by-verse preaching and doctrinally sound teaching, I encourage you to visit Colonial Bible Church:https://www.colonialbiblechurch.org/about