When Our Practices Need to Match Our Purpose
What I am learning about calling, integrity, and faithfulness in business and ministry
I am currently taking a course in Doing Business God’s Way, exploring how biblical principles shape the way we work, lead, and care for what God has entrusted to us.
A recent lesson asked me to consider the purpose of an organization. What has God called it to do? What responsibilities belong within that calling? And how should its purpose be reflected in everyday decisions?
I began by thinking about D&S Electric—the commitments we make, the people depending on us, and the kind of business I want us to be. But the questions soon reached into my ministry life as well.
I found myself asking something deeper:
Does the way we build reflect the God we say we serve?
That question has become personal through experiences that have challenged my understanding of leadership, belonging, and the courage it sometimes takes to step away.
Looking beyond what appears successful
A business or ministry can look healthy from the outside. It may have a meaningful mission, respected leaders, worthwhile activities, and people who sincerely want to serve.
Those things matter. But they do not tell the whole story.
An organization’s character also becomes visible in less public moments: how decisions are made, how resources are handled, whose concerns receive attention, and whether the same standards apply to everyone.
I have learned to pay closer attention to those things.
There was another ministry I cared about deeply, with people I still love. Over time, however, I became uncomfortable with a gap between the standards expected of others and the practices I observed within leadership.
From my perspective, belonging and influence sometimes seemed to depend more on being part of an established inner circle than on a shared willingness to be accountable. I struggled with what felt like unequal expectations and limited room for honest questions.
I cannot speak to anyone’s heart, and I recognize that my understanding was not complete. But I could not ignore the concerns affecting my conscience.
Eventually, I stepped away.
That decision was painful because my love for the people had not disappeared.
Loving people while reconsidering participation
One of the hardest things I am learning is that affection for people does not settle every question about partnership.
I can appreciate someone’s gifts, care about their wellbeing, and recognize good in the work they do while still being concerned about practices I cannot support.
Scripture asks us to consider the influence of those we walk closely with. Proverbs 13:20 connects our companions with the direction of our lives. Ephesians 5:11 calls believers to refuse participation in works of darkness. Those passages make me examine what my own involvement supports and what I may gradually begin to accept.
I need to approach that examination humbly. Disagreement alone does not make another person unethical. An imperfect ministry is not automatically one I must leave. Every community includes people who are learning, making mistakes, and needing grace—including me.
But when serious concerns remain unresolved, I need to ask whether continuing to participate would require me to disregard my conscience or quietly accept standards I believe are wrong.
For me, stepping away became a way to establish that boundary.
I could continue to pray for the people and wish them well. I could also acknowledge that I no longer felt able to serve within that arrangement.
The same integrity belongs in business and ministry
These experiences have made it impossible for me to keep ethics confined to the workplace.
If honesty matters when I speak to a customer, it also matters when I speak to a volunteer. If business funds require careful records and clear responsibility, ministry resources deserve the same care. If I expect employees to honour commitments, I need to take the commitments made within Christian service seriously, too.
A spiritual purpose carries practical responsibilities.
People give their time, money, skills, and trust because they believe they are contributing to something worthwhile. They deserve clear communication about how that contribution will be used and what happens when circumstances change.
Leadership also needs room for questions.
Can someone raise a concern without losing their sense of belonging? Can a leader acknowledge a mistake? Are decisions explained fairly? Are expectations applied consistently, including to those with the most influence?
I want those questions to shape how I lead, rather than becoming questions I ask only when someone else disappoints me.
My response is part of my witness
It would be easier to write about ethics if I only had to examine the conduct of others.
But God keeps bringing me back to my own response.
When I feel hurt, am I telling the story accurately? Am I leaving room for what I do not know? Can I acknowledge good in people whose decisions have disappointed me? Am I seeking understanding and accountability, or am I hoping others will take my side?
I need to ask those questions sincerely.
Pain can make me quick to interpret motives. It can make me want to explain everything publicly so that someone will finally understand. I am learning to bring those impulses to God before acting on them.
That does not mean every concern should remain unspoken. There are times to ask direct questions, seek wise counsel, document what has happened, and establish boundaries.
But I want my words to serve a constructive purpose. I want to speak with enough care that I do not create further harm while trying to explain my own.
I need God’s help to remain both truthful and compassionate.
Knowing what is mine to carry
The course has also challenged me to consider the limits of my responsibility.
I can take responsibility for my decisions, my words, and the resources in my care. I can ask for a conversation, seek clarification, and follow through on what I have promised. I can apologize when I am wrong and work to repair what I have damaged.
I cannot make another person respond honestly, understand my concerns, or choose reconciliation.
Accepting that limit has been difficult.
When I care deeply about a ministry, I want to keep trying. Sometimes that perseverance is needed. At other times, I need to consider whether staying is helping the work or keeping me attached to a situation I cannot resolve.
I am learning to pray for discernment about both.
A boundary may be necessary even while grief remains. A calling may continue even when a particular partnership ends. The desire God has placed on my heart to serve does not depend entirely on one organization making room for it.
That thought has helped me keep moving forward.
The community I hope to help build
These lessons have deepened my desire for a community where people can serve with both trust and accountability.
I hope to help build a place where questions are welcomed, responsibilities are clear, and leaders remain willing to learn. Where the same standards apply to familiar friends and newcomers. Where generosity is handled carefully and disagreements are met with patience, honesty, and respect.
That hope connects my work in business with the heart behind Shine 9 and Faith in the Marketplace.
I want Christian business owners and ministry leaders to have people beside them who will pray, offer practical wisdom, and ask difficult questions with love. We need encouragement, and we need people who will help us recognize where our practices have drifted from our purpose.
I am still learning how to offer that kind of leadership.
My prayer is that these experiences make me more attentive to people who feel unheard, more careful with the trust placed in me, and more willing to examine my own decisions.
Whatever God entrusts to us, may our daily practices reflect the care, truthfulness, and humility we hope to share in His name.
Lord, examine my heart and the work in my hands. Help me recognize when to persevere, when to speak, and when to step away. Give me courage to honour my conscience, humility to receive correction, and love that remains sincere even when a relationship changes. Guide my next steps, and help me become a trustworthy steward of the people and responsibilities You place in my care. Amen.
Three questions for deeper reflection
Where might my need for belonging, approval, security, or influence be making it difficult to acknowledge an ethical concern—and what would faithfulness require of me if I stopped protecting my place in the group?
If someone with the least influence in my business, church, or ministry described how they experience my leadership, would their account reflect the values I profess? What would I need to hear, acknowledge, or change before I could answer honestly?
In a relationship or organization that has hurt me, what is mine to address, what may require a boundary, and what must I release to God? How can I take that next step without surrendering either my conscience or my compassion?
