I work 70 hours a week. I'm successful—partner at my law firm by 38, well compensated, respected in my field. I'm also exhausted, my marriage is strained, and I see my kids mostly on weekends. When I try to cut back, I feel guilty. Part of this is practical—my position requires the hours. But part of it is deeper: I believe work is good. I believe I was put on this earth to use my abilities to their fullest. Coasting feels like sin. My therapist says I've "moralized" work in an unhealthy way. "Work is just work," she says. "It's a means to an end—money, security, maybe some satisfaction. But it's not a calling, and treating it as one lets your firm exploit you." But when I imagine working just enough to get by—doing adequate work, having adequate success, being an adequate lawyer—something in me rebels. That feels like a betrayal of the gifts I've been given. Is my dedication to work a virtue or a pathology? Is there meaning in labor itself, or am I fooling myself? — The Workaholic in Dallas

I work 70 hours a week. I'm successful—partner at my law firm by 38, well compensated, respected in my field. I'm also exhausted, my marriage is strained, and I see my kids mostly on weekends. When I try to cut back, I feel guilty. Part of this is practical—my position requires the hours. But part of it is deeper: I believe work is good. I believe I was put on this earth to use my abilities to their fullest. Coasting feels like sin. My therapist says I've "moralized" work in an unhealthy way. "Work is just work," she says. "It's a means to an end—money, security, maybe some satisfaction. But it's not a calling, and treating it as one lets your firm exploit you." But when I imagine working just enough to get by—doing adequate work, having adequate success, being an adequate lawyer—something in me rebels. That feels like a betrayal of the gifts I've been given. Is my dedication to work a virtue or a pathology? Is there meaning in labor itself, or am I fooling myself? — The Workaholic in Dallas

Mr. Calvin, your emphasis on sacred duty is well-taken. But what *is* the difference between glorifying God and feeding ambition? And at what point does tending to one's family become a mere excuse for a lack of ambition? Mr. Franklin, you speak of temperance. But isn't there a risk that moderation becomes another name for mediocrity? Is the goal to be balanced, or to be *excellent*, even at the cost of balance? Dallas Workaholic, I wonder, which of those do you truly fear more?