I was sitting in the meeting feeling my anger rising on behalf of my guest. She had just finished a beautiful description of an integrated faith-work life. She is the Australian leader of a large overseas organisation. She had just explained how hard she focuses on her decision-making, to make decisions that reflect the character of Jesus. She had told us how she spends significant time praying through her daily routine. She described how close she feels to God when she is in a board room, how she feels God's presence as she relies totally on him. She had told us of recent spiritual conversations as people wondered about why she was different.
She asked for questions, and someone asked: "What are you doing for your local church?"
I had to interrupt and explain that we were listening to someone who saw her daily work as her place of ministry.
My guest graciously replied that she travels two Sundays a month, and being part of regular rosters is very difficult. She said that she had recently had a conversation with her pastor to explain her lack of attendance, and the nature of the work she did.
The questioner was unperturbed: "But surely you could give a talk, or use your leadership skills. The church could use you."
My guest admitted that she helped out on the coffee cart when she could, which seemed to somewhat appease her audience.
I bit my tongue, but this precisely illustrates my great frustration. The church's function is to equip its people to do God's work. Rather than being a place where my guest felt guilty for not giving more; it should be a place of refuge and nurture and teaching and prayer that empowers her to be Christ's light in otherwise dark places.
It should be the place where she gathers with others to celebrate God, and then is sent out as the church scattered to work for his glory.
The questioner should have asked: "What is your church doing for you, to support the great work you are doing for God?"