There are two types of missionaries in this world: those
that enjoy raising support, and those that absolutely hate it. I fall into the
second group. In fact, even though I know hundreds of missionaries, I’ve only
ever met a handful of people in the first group – those who can actually say,
“YAY! FUNDRAISING!” without being completely cheeky.
I just spent two months in the States doing this thing
called raising support – a really important task of connecting God’s people
with the work He’s doing around the world. It’s a privilege. It’s humbling.
It’s encouraging. And somehow very stressful.
It’s a reminder that everything belongs to God, and this
work of ours is actually His.
I shared with a friend over lunch one day that I was not at
all worried about reaching my goals because I know that the money is out there.
Our father owns the cattle on a thousand
hills, I said. My measly $210,000 to build a school and dig wells and run
camps is pocket change for our God.
But, I added, I also realize that God has entrusted all His
pennies to His children, and I confessed that as I traveled the country and
interfaced with affluence, materialism, and keeping up with the Joneses, I was
maybe a little bit concerned that the trustees of God’s account might not be so
eager to hand it over.
Nevertheless, I persisted and wrapped up my time in the States
with over half my goal reached. (And with plenty of faith that God would have a
chat with the rest of His kids to bring in the remaining balance…)
Despite the challenges inherent in fundraising (I’m still
nursing my introversion back to health), the main benefit is to be on the
receiving end of affirmation again and again. Even from dirt-poor grad students
I heard the words, “This ministry is amazing! I have no money, but this is
amazing!” We praise God! What He’s doing is
amazing. I did not talk to a single person who was not overwhelmingly
supportive of God’s movement in Zambia. After all, the evidence is clear.
People are being cared for, educated, fed. They are being set-free, blessed,
changed. The school is an obvious success. Our camp has exploded and outpaced
our facilities. We’ve seen a decrease in water-borne illness and a decrease in
infant mortality. These are facts and they are compelling.
When people would say, “This is wonderful – we want to be a
part of it!” I honestly wanted to blurt out, “Well of course you should!” Now, I’m classy so obviously I said
something a bit more refined, like, “Thank
you, that would be so helpful.” I did realize though that for the first
time in our fundraising journey, we weren’t asking people to fund a what-could-be dream so much as an
expansion of and improvement upon what already has proven to be successful; and
this meant I could receive their affirmation with less relief and more
concurrence.
I saw in the faces of each new member of our support team, a
certain amount of discernment. They’ve seen a good thing and they’ve gotten on
board, as they should. But in these personal encounters, I also took a few
steps back and thought about the days when our presentation was quite
different, like when Jeremy was in a tent and had nothing to show for himself.
In those early years, there were ideas – hopes, possibilities, faith – but
nothing material to offer as proof of future success. And predictably, precious
few people enthusiastically got on board. A few did join us in the
hope/possibility/faith boat, but the majority offered well wishes – some even
coming right out with it: “we’ll support you after you’ve proved yourselves.”
Before Jeremy and I were married, he was subsisting off of
$30 a month. It’s probably a good thing that he was under-funded, otherwise I
might never have taken pity on him and offered him weekly suppers which never
would have turned into nightly suppers which never would have turned into a
marriage proposal or a family or a life. And so, we thank the good Lord for
those $30 a month days.
When I first met Jeremy, he was more faithful and more
faith-filled than any person I had ever known. (I suppose you have to be to
live in a tent on a dollar a day.) And as he talked about Grandma Shirley, the
one little old church lady who comprised his support “team,” it was obvious
that she was supporting this barefoot
kid out in the bush for one reason: she was convinced he was being obedient.
I married that barefoot kid for his obedient faith, and have
never regretted it. It was obedient faith that led us through our years as
newlyweds, and through the various trials that come with pioneer missions. I
remember our first fundraising trip back to the states, sitting down ahead of
time and thinking about what we were going to say in the days of “we’re still
trying to get things going,” – hoping to sound more impressive than we actually
were, and then coming back to Zambia feeling a little deflated and praying that
there were still Grandma Shirley’s out there who would sense the faithfulness
and be generous for that reason alone.
And now fast-forward a decade. Our presentation sounds
totally different. (You can actually watch me present here if you want!) We not
only have a handle on what we are
doing, but why we are doing it and why it’s important in the grand scheme
of things. We love what we do and we believe in it fully, and this makes it
pretty easy to talk about. It also makes
me insanely thankful for the people who supported us before there was anything
impressive at all.
Track with me for sixty seconds, because I think this is
really important. I think given the modern, interconnected landscape, and an
age of “asks,” where people have to sift through a few thousand good giving
opportunities per year, we have fine-tuned our “worthy-cause-o-meter” so much
so that we can pick out a sustainable, strategic, high-impact operation from a
mile away. It has become a game of sorts, and missionaries have learned what it
takes to win. These servants of the Lord have become part-time marketing
professionals specializing in social media and Bono-esque jargon. Of course,
the use of facebook get spun in a more “holy” light, but still, the landscape
of missions is changing, and perhaps not for the better, as it’s the ones who
play the game the best that get funded – not necessarily those who are being
the most obedient.
We know a few hundred missionaries personally and, thanks to
internet, can keep tabs on a few thousand more. The spectrum is impressive,
ya’ll.
We know missionaries who accomplish little to nothing, but
their instragram feed is so exotic that people throw cash at them.
We know others who secretly hate their life abroad, but out
of fear, stay in it and raise thousands off of the pity of how much they are
suffering for Christ.
We know those who for their own business savvy have weaseled
their way to something quite impressive, but in reality have just build their own kingdom.
We know those whose actual mission is an abomination, but
whose public speaking style is so inspirational, they could convince a crowd to
fund seafaring boats in the desert.
But then I think about that young man with ribs all sticking
out, not complaining once about walking to town eighteen miles away because he
had no gas for the vehicle, just happy – called that walk to town a “prayer
walk” – waiting on the Lord in all the
literal senses… and now, in retrospect, all I can think is, “that kid had a
clue.”
This I now know to be true: Obedience is absolutely the most undervalued indicator on the “who to
support” rubric. Impressive work done disobediently is of no value, whereas
even ordinary work carried out with obedience is of immeasurable worth.
The 21st century fundraising game is depressing,
and watching it from the inside, all the more so. What we see too often is that
it’s the unassuming ones – the ones who spend their time in ministry and not marketing,
who are better at doing stuff than photographing it, the ones who fear God more
than man and therefore walk an unimpressive, but obedient path… they are the ones who take a hit
financially.
God’s will, done God’s way will never lack God’s supply – needle
point that on all the pillows, ye weary, faithful missionaries lacking funds
tonight.
But, to be fair, looking at the other half of the equation, we
must also reconcile this: As much as God blesses obedience in serving, He also blesses obedience in giving. While God will always provide eventually,
disobedience in giving has its own earthly consequences. As resources get
diverted to White Savior Barbie and the guy who probably should have just been
on Shark Tank… the obedient ones plod along and wait for God to provide in other ways.
As frustrating as lost time and wheel-spinning are, the true
pity however is what is forfeited when the flashy, smooth-talking, insta-everything folks get pushed to the
forefront – namely, that the donors
miss out on being a part of something truly of God – something that will last
forever, something that matters beyond a
short season of hustle.
We need to be smart about where our limited resources go. If
you are introduced to someone or something that looks inherently unsustainable,
disrespectful of the host country, un-integrated, too-much-too-soon – just run
the other way.
But here is my simple plea. Add “obedience” to the check-list
of requirements. And not only that, put
it at the top. Make it a matter of honest prayer. And if you feel like the
barefoot kid sleeping in a tent with nothing to show for himself is being
obedient? Back him. Back him with everything you can afford because ten years
from now, you’ll be a part of something really amazing and you’ll have the
added blessing of having been there from the beginning.
Thank you, Grandma Shirley, for valuing the obedience. May a
whole generation of givers follow your lead.
