Three or four decades in government service.
People sometimes ask—sometimes gently, sometimes with curiosity, sometimes with doubt:
Why do employees stay that long?
Is it for money?
Is it because there are no other options?
Is it comfort?
Is it fear of starting over?
If we are honest, compensation alone cannot explain it. Public service will rarely compete with the private sector in terms of financial reward. And for many who stay, options did exist. Doors could have opened elsewhere.
Yet they remained.
Why?
Because beneath policies, payroll systems, digitization projects, and reform agendas, there is something quieter that anchors people to service:
Purpose is what allows someone to wake up on a Monday morning, return to the same institution, face the same constraints, and still believe the work matters. It is what keeps a civil servant signing documents carefully even when no one is watching. It is what makes a reformer continue proposing improvements—even when readiness is uncertain.
Purpose is not loud.
It is steady.
The Christmas Parallel: Why the Nativity Still Matters
Every December, Christians celebrate Christmas—the nativity of Jesus Christ.
a child born not in a palace,
but in a manger.
If ever there was a moment that redefined purpose, it was that.
Not born into power.
Not born into comfort.
Not born into privilege.
But born with mission.
Christmas is not merely a celebration of an event in history. It is a reminder that purpose does not require ideal conditions. It requires conviction.
That child would grow up to teach that greatness is service.
That leadership is sacrifice.
That the last can become first.
Purpose preceded recognition.
Mission preceded applause.
Why Some Stay
In public service, the same pattern quietly unfolds.
Some stay not because the system is perfect.
Some stay not because promotions are guaranteed.
Some stay not because the work is easy.
They stay because somewhere along the way, the job stopped being merely employment and became vocation.
They begin to see:
That records safeguarded protect someone’s dignity.
That policies refined improve someone’s life.
That reforms—however slow—shape institutions long after names are forgotten.
Money sustains a livelihood.
Purpose sustains a life.
A Hard Question
Of course, not everyone stays for noble reasons.
Some stay for security.
Some stay because change is frightening.
Some stay because leaving feels risky.
But the deeper question is not why people stay.
It is this:
When we stay, what are we staying for?
If we remain only for comfort, stagnation follows.
If we remain for mission, growth follows—even within limits.
Christmas reminds us that impact is not measured by surroundings but by calling.
A manger changed history.
A desk in a government office can change lives too—if the person behind it understands why they are there.
Director’s Cut Reflection
After decades in service, I have seen colleagues come and go. I have seen bright minds leave, and quiet pillars remain. And I have learned this:
Institutions do not endure because of structures alone. Policies can be rewritten. Systems can be redesigned. Leadership can shift. What sustains an institution—especially through friction and transition—are the people who believe their work is part of something larger than themselves.
That is purpose.
And purpose becomes most important not during seasons of affirmation—but at crossroads.
There are moments in leadership when you do not see eye to eye with the powers that be. When your proposals are set aside. When you feel the quiet distance in the room. When decisions are made and you are not in the circle. When you are, in subtle ways, excluded.
Exclusion tests ego.
Disagreement tests loyalty.
Silence tests resolve.
At that point, titles offer no comfort. Influence may narrow. Recognition may fade.
What remains is purpose.
Purpose asks harder questions:
Am I here only when I am heard—or also when I am sidelined?
Is my commitment conditional on agreement?
Do I serve only when I am central—or even when I am peripheral?
Without purpose, exclusion turns into resentment.
With purpose, exclusion becomes refinement.
Without purpose, conflict becomes withdrawal.
With purpose, conflict becomes recalibration.
Purpose steadies you when you are misunderstood.
It guards your integrity when you are tempted to disengage.
It reminds you that service is not about always being included—it is about remaining aligned with mission.
And perhaps that is why some stay.
Not because they cannot leave.
Not because they always agree.
Not because they are always affirmed.
But because even in tension—even in exclusion—they know why they are there.
That knowing is not passivity.
It is disciplined leadership.
— Director Noreen
Image Credit: Gerrit van Honthorst, The Adoration of the Shepherds (Public Domain).
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