Many years ago, shortly after arriving in Vanuatu as a long term missionary, the government was facing another motion of no confidence. Each time this happened, the opposition would cross the floor to take control of parliament, cabinet would be reshuffled, new ministers appointed, and government-appointed roles reallocated. The result for anyone working with a government department at the director level, would be to begin the conversation again as a new minister (and often director general) defined their particular policies for the department. It was frustrating to see little achieved, or to begin again after losing the ground covered since the last reshuffle; but more troubling was that each time there was a political move like this, the appearance of corruption throughout the entire system was obvious to many.
As I drove along one day, I was having a discussion complaining to God: I realised that as missionaries we are called to speak life and truth. More than that, our mission organisation – Marine Reach – had a sense of calling to discipleship on a national level. So my complaint to God was founded on those two assumptions being true. I asked the question “Lord, what should I do about corruption?” He answered me with a question: “what is corruption?”
After a bit of thinking I suggested to Him that corruption was about putting truth and legal “right” aside, in favour of personal gain. His response to me?
“Ok, so based on that definition, are you corrupt in any of your ways?” I realised that He wasn’t talking about my most recent visit to the ministry of health, or my leadership of others, but my relationship with Him as a redeemed-by-the-cross follower of Jesus. The question shook me and recognising my own failures, I felt disheartened: if I, as a person in vocational service to God, was corrupt, I couldn’t possibly find moral ground from which to judge others, nor challenge them to be better. I asked the Lord what this all meant.
We started to talk about democracy and the mustard seed kingdom of Jesus Christ. He pointed out to me that in a democracy like Vanuatu or New Zealand, where each adult has a vote to choose their government, the government elected on any given day will broadly reflect the values of the people voting.* Therefore, if the majority of people individually think that being in debt is okay, they’ll be comfortable voting for people who put the nation in debt. Or, if people think that occasionally “bending” the truth is acceptable for some situations, they’ll be willing to vote for those who lie. If I followed this logic, I saw what the Lord was pointing out: that people with corrupt hearts will accept corrupt governance.
Now before you think that I’m claiming that some people are more corrupt than others: this all got personal really quickly. God reminded me that I was corrupt in some of my ways, that I hid the truth if I felt it would cause me shame, that I was quick to forget His sovereign faithfulness when money got tight. Therefore, to the extent that I am willing to live with my own dishonour of His biblical laws and truth, I would also be willing to accept that same dishonour on a governance level.
Based on all of that, I felt an answer to my original question coming through:
We fight corruption in nations by beginning in ourselves. By actively working to align our hearts, thinking, and actions more closely with God’s heart of love, truth, justice, faithfulness, mercy, and grace, we fight back against the hate, lies, injustice, and disgrace we see around us every day. By choosing not to accept those things in our personal lives, we will do better at resisting them in our leaders and governments.
How do I deal with corruption? It starts with me loving and honouring God more fully in every area of my life.
What do you think? Is fighting corruption as simple as being a better Jesus follower?
*My friend Dave pointed out that this principle goes both ways, that prophetically a nation will get the government they deserve based on the way they love and honour God.
The Process of Growth
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Why Grassroots impact should get your attention (and cash)
I’ve been in the faith-based humanitarian field for about 10 years. In that time, I’ve been involved in some really awesome things, and rubbed shoulders with incredibly generous, kind hearted people. Along the way, I’ve seen people give their property, blood, tears, and sweat for the people they’re serving. I’ve seen friends come to the point of failure and keep going, risking reputation, livelihood and security to care for the people they’re serving. These are grassroots workers: people who are right there with their beneficiaries in homes, workplaces, disasters, mess, and brokenness.
I’ve also seen huge quantities of cash poured into large multinationals who have beautifully moving advertising with big promises of fixing poverty, making a major difference in emergency relief, and grassroots impact. Those organisations mostly began as grassroots movements of people with a vision to bring life-giving change to those around them. But since that point, they have grown into massive machines which, while trying to effect grassroots change, put huge resources into writing opinions, lobbying politicians, and producing advertising copy on a wide range of issues. They have bureaucracies which include grassroots workers, office staff (abounding), and many layers of lower, middle, and senior management. Some (myself included) argue that their big management structures cause them to produce far less impact per donor dollar than they have potential to. Yet the converse argument (which I also make at times) that gigantic budgets allow them to achieve far more grassroots impact despite the actual spending only being a tiny portion of their total revenue also has merit.
These big organisations can boast that through broad management structures they employ many grassroots locals in salaried roles, injecting much needed income through vital jobs. This is something few grassroots organisations can claim, and most could never support with often meagre donor income.
So why would I think grassroots movements need your attention and cash? Why would I claim this when so few are in a position to be registered as charities? Why would you want to hand them your cash when even the registered ones often fail to report their results well, they miss deadlines for legal obligations, and are often “winging it” when larger groups have beautifully polished presentations and 10 year plans?
People. It is people.
What do I mean? Every grassroots organisation begins with one person whose heart to be a blessing finds an opportunity to connect directly with someone in need. For one, it might be giving a pair of sunglasses to someone with a pterygium, for another it might be teaching a young man to read diverting him from a life of crime, for yet another it might mean loading emergency and medical supplies onto an old boat to deliver to hurricane devastated communities.
Grassroots impact looks like individual people making direct, personal connections with people who need help and support. Grassroots impact is what it looks like to break inertia for struggling people. Big organisations and academics call them “beneficiaries” or maybe “clients.”
Those of us doing grassroots ministry call them friends, we call them by name and we feel their pain. We cry with them in their desperation and try our best to walk with them as they find pathways forward. The friends I watch making true grassroots impact will be up early in the morning, working like crazy all day, and often fall into bed mentally and physically exhausted. A lot of that time and energy is directly spent on their “people”: the ones they have committed to helping. Some days they succeed, celebrating wins small and big. Other days poor choices are made, funds dry up, or they hit regulatory road blocks. Those days are tough. While in the big organisation a worker might have a beautiful supportive set of colleagues to fall back on, in the small work, these are the days when the grassroots worker has to confront the reasons for what they do alone, deciding yet again that it is still worth the effort despite the pain.
“So what,” you say. “They’re cowboys, often refusing to work with others who might be able to support them. They refuse to play well when things get political, they don’t attend the (endless, interminable) collaboration and consultation meetings, and they’re hopeless at following rules and doing paperwork.”
In many cases you’re right.
In many cases those “weak points” exist for a reason. For all of the “support” a partner can offer, there are endless meetings, paperwork, new obligations, and extra expectations, all distractions from the people that we set out to serve. For the “being nice” when things get political, there is rarely benefit beyond perhaps the big guys taking stories and using them without crediting the original worker. For the hours and hours spent following the rules, we could have helped our person (or people) so much more, if we hadn’t been distracted by busy work. For all of the paperwork we don’t quite understand, there’s a hurting person we do understand.
So let us get on with it!
But those are excuses right?
Yes, they are. And YOU might have the answer without realising it. Why do I say that? A personal story:
My friend, lets call him Stew, had a heart to serve young men. So he started visiting the local prison to connect with people Jesus said we should visit. As he did, he became more moved for those who need help, both in prison, and out. The more he was around, the more he saw that boys (and young men) get into crime not for fun, but from hopelessness and desperation. He started getting together with them. They would drink tea, tell stories, read the bible, and talk about the realities of life. Stew didn’t have a budget. A few friends who heard his story gave him enough for cookies and tea. They could see that he was doing something for which he is uniquely skilled. There was no business case, no presentations, no 10 year vision, no legal framework. Just a man connecting with young guys and trying to help them find a better way forward in life. Stew is skilled in the people stuff, he’s not an administration guy. He’s not about to invent a 10 year plan. He’s not going to dream up a multi-layer bureaucracy, or establish a charity.
Stew will respond to what he sees his guys need, and what God highlights for him.
Stew will do what he needs to do this week to show his guys that there is hope.
Stew will avoid paperwork, because it sucks up energy which he needs for his guys.
I watched all of this beginning and I didn’t have cash to give Stew, but I realised that I can give something. I am good with administration and charity stuff, so maybe I can offer him support that way? Another of Stew’s friends is a website designer, so she offered to help setup a website. Another is a business advisor, and offered help to formalise a charity and a bank account.
Soon, a charity formed with a board, a constitution, and a system for Stew to receive donations. It all centres on one thing: Stew is good at ministering to young fellas, and we MUST empower that.
That’s just one story. I have other friends providing 3D printed limbs to amputees in the jungle from a sailing boat, others who take supplies to hurricane-devastated communities, and more whose vision is educating children without access to school. I have friends who work with surgery candidates who can’t get surgery in their home country and will die without it.
There is one common theme. They’re all busy doing the work, to fuss with the administration necessary to play by the rules of the “big guys” takes more time and mental energy than they should be asked to give.
So why should you give your attention and cash to the grassroots workers? Because your skills as a web developer, accountant, copy writer, mechanic, builder, painter, or medical professional can help them to stay effective and engaged in their field of impact.
You can help them to do what they’re called to, and make a difference in the life of the one person right in from of them.
But the caveat is this: grassroots workers won’t compromise their peoples’ needs for your preferences. If you’re going into the conversation with an agenda and expectations which don’t help them, expect to be told where to go. Quickly. The converse is true: come into the discussion fully supportive of what’s going on, and you will build long-term, life-giving relationships. That connection will mean that you can always trust that your energy and cash is being put to the best use it can be, because you know your grassroots worker is committed and trustworthy.
Grassroots impact is vital to millions of people in tough spots all around the world. There is someone you know who is doing something grassroots.
Find them.
Listen to them.
Once you’ve listened, support them.
You may only have a few dollars or a few hours to give each month. Give it. Don’t be embarrassed by the meagre contribution, most of us (because I count myself as doing grassroots impact at V2 Life) are deeply blessed when we know you’re thinking, praying and helping us.
What do you think? Have I missed part of the conversation? Have I been unfair to the big guys? Make your argument (with respect, please) in the comments.
Do what God says
As long term missionaries in Youth With a Mission (YWAM), we raise all of our annual financial needs through fundraising and personal relationship. That’s right, no salary package with the role, no mission board or home office making up the shortfall, no furloughs with prearranged speaking engagements.
It’s YWAM value number 10: “Faith in God for finance.” It is a controversial value, both within and outside of YWAM, and that’s because it has both great strengths and glaring weaknesses. It is a strength because it challenges each YWAMer to keep faith at the centre of what we do, not becoming complacent or comfortable in our secure salaried job; it is a weakness (to some irresponsible) in that it allows young people with a sense of God’s calling to launch themselves into the mission field “long term” with as little backing as the cash for a one way flight. In the worst case, this can be a recipe for failure and embarrassment. In the best case, God demonstrates His faithful provision in miraculous ways and His sovereign name is glorified.
Needless to say, the big task each of us face is growing and nurturing a prayer-fuelled support team who give generously, regularly, and often sacrificially. Although the field each YWAMer is in varies with calling and annual budget, the challenge to raise support is constant. When it all comes together, it keeps us in the field in a sustainable and productive way, freeing us up to do the work we’ve been called to.
Despite its vital nature for YWAMers, raising support is one of my least favourite parts of the mission; this feeling in many ways exposes a weakness in my theological understanding and my view of God’s Kingdom economy. And still, over the years as I’ve learnt to trust God and follow His leadership, I’ve seen Him grow my support team from one generous family with a new baby who gave less than 10% of my need, to a squad of dozens who pray, give, and encourage every month.
Over time, I got to a point where I had my basic living costs met. There was a little extra for “wants” and being generous beyond my tithe. I guess it started to look like I knew what I was doing when one day, one of the many young people I’ve worked with asked me for some advice on fundraising, perhaps hoping that I might give them a practical formula which guaranteed results. Initially my answer was not what they hoped for when I said:
“Do what God says.”
They looked at me wondering if I was spouting some useless cultish cliche, so I expanded.
I explained that while every one of us is called to fundraise, each of us comes from a different culture, family context, and calling. I explained that in my observation this means that God will usually have a specific strategy for us in how we communicate the need, invite, and grow the relationships we need in our support teams. Because each of us might have a unique strategy from God, that would mean that the practicalities differ too.
I shared how in my early days as YWAM staff I wanted to do “tent making” where I earned money doing car repairs to pay my bills. Fairly soon I realised that God was not blessing those efforts, and in prayer I saw that I’d chosen this from a motivation of insecurity, not to honour God. That insecurity was rooted in what is arguably a good mindset: the idea that “if I want money, I should get off my butt and earn it, not bludge off other people.” I grappled poorly with the view that if I was being faithful to God I was worthy of the wages I needed to live, and that insecurity worked overtime as I wrote newsletters with a sense of panic around my need for cash. Unsurprisingly it didn’t work, so eventually I went to God in prayer and frustration asking Him what I should do. I was late to this praying approach, but it was the best choice I could have made! I felt Him asking me to change the focus of my newsletters to a specific, intentional focus on His glory, telling the stories of what He was doing around, through, and in me. Soon after, I felt His prompting to call a specific family and ask if they would give. They said “we’ve been waiting for your call, how do we do it?”
So the primary lesson from “do what God says” is about realising His wisdom for your particular situation, and following that in fundraising. Considering that He is the owner of literally everything and has all wisdom, we can be certain that He will lead us well.
But as I explained the big view of what I was trying to say, I went further, reminding my friend that God always provides for what He calls us to do. I talked about how He provides every time, when we are where we should be, when we should be, doing what He asks us to do. In the big picture, that means that the key to effective support raising is also the key to living as a Jesus-following disciple: do what God says! The bible says that when we are obedient, He is faithful and He will provide for our needs.
A couple of pointers if this “doing what God says” thing is new to you:
1-The first place to look is in the bible, God’s word is jammed with instructions on how to live a good life which brings Him glory.
2-If you’re the kind of person that hears His voice in your heart, mind, or ears, remember: His spoken (or felt) word will not undermine His written (bible) word or His character. If you think it does, look again, and seek wise counsel.
3-A prophetic word from a person should be a confirmation of something you’re already feeling Him saying; if it’s new information, avoid taking it as fact until you have peace that He has confirmed it in some other way.
4-If you’re unsure of something, seek advice from a God-honouring leader. A trusted pastor or elder is a good start if you have a healthy church connection.
So today, if you’re trying to raise $10 for your next meal, or $100,000 for your next home, my encouragement is the same:
Do what God tells you
and trust Him to take care of the rest.
When seasons change
Although sometimes it can be hard to identify a change in life’s season when you’re in the middle of it, change is going to happen. It is one of the most consistent aspects of life. A couple of years ago I had a chance to watch myself respond to a season change. While I didn’t like what I saw, I at least realised what was going on. By realising that a significant change was happening, I had a chance to try to be more self aware, more intentional, and more patient with myself and those around me as I navigated the insecurity and excitement of it all.
Let me paint the picture.
I had been working for years as part of a volunteer team to grow an amazing medical outreach program which used a ship to reach remote communities. We had the privilege of providing simple but essential services to some hard to reach corners of the Pacific, it was rewarding to say the least. The organisation’s leadership took a decision which changed the direction of the vessel, both literally and figuratively. I did my best to stay loyal and we started from ground-zero, reestablishing the organisation, ship, and outreach programs in the Caribbean. We arrived in an exciting and challenging context offering people, equipment, and resources we felt would provide big impacts in communities whose lives had been turned upside-down by huge hurricanes.
I jumped in with passion and energy; seeing our results over recent years had me convinced of the potential product we could deliver. For months we worked at growing appropriate relationships, fundraising for day to day costs, and demonstrating what we could do and why we were there. I was doing what I do well: helping to press ahead toward a vision alongside visionaries, workers and supporters. As the months wore on we began to find traction, we began to see our efforts producing impact in tangible ways, and we saw a new region start to get behind us both financially, spiritually and professionally.
While all of this was going on with no little stress involved, I was aware of a niggle in the back of my mind, a niggle which kept me thinking about the opportunities that still existed in the region we’d left: Vanuatu seemed to be calling me. I felt that I should be going back there but couldn’t see how I could bear to leave this growing work in the Caribbean; though we were finding traction, we had a long way to go to be really sustainable. In the following weeks I travelled extensively, meeting various obligations in different regions, and when I returned to the ship, it was waiting in an unexpected spot while we raised funds for the next step.
Over the next few months a series of small, apparently unconnected issues began to come up, culminating in a very uncomfortable phone call one afternoon. With a lot of travel under my belt and all of the normal stresses of the endless task list added to this new challenge, I was thrown into an internal tail-spin, realising that my attempts to be loyal to the cause were being profoundly undermined by that niggle to be in Vanuatu. It was a niggle I’d hoped I was suppressing when really it had been showing itself regularly. I did the missionary thing and prayed, asking the Lord to help me filter through all of the circumstantial stuff, the swirling emotions and feelings of failure, grief, embarrassment and shame, and understand how He would have me respond. Very quickly He helped me to realise that I was on the cusp of a change in season.
You see, in the course of my missionary “career”, I’ve regularly been in positions to help establish a thing at it’s beginning. Whether a new building, a new ministry office, a new outreach program, or a new organisational relationship. These roles are usually in support to the person with the vision, roles with a lot of responsibility. My time in the Caribbean was no different. But the challenge in these roles has consistently been the change of season: you see, when someone who’s good at setting things up gets to a certain point in the growth, they begin to become a hindrance rather than a help, to the continued growth. They still see all of the things which need to improve, but their best move is to recognise that the growth is now stable, get out of the way, and let the next guys step up to the challenge.
So at that moment in the Caribbean, I was realising that my season of helping set up this amazing ship outreach program was ending. I realised that the last few months of niggling difficulties, underlying frustration and stress had been contributing to the message that my time there was drawing to a close. It was a moment of mixed emotions: on one hand, I’d be able to follow that niggle and head back to Vanuatu, I’d be able to work more closely with wonderful people, I’d be able to go back to a region I love; on the other hand, I would leave a ship I’d poured so much time, energy and passion into, I’d leave precious friends and amazing colleagues, I’d say goodbye to a recipient community who’d been very gracious to me.
And then the insecurity arrived: I’d made comments which would not reflect well on me. I was going from a productive and successful outreach program, to a nation where I had no actual role or well-defined vision: would people think I was quitting? Was I hearing God right, or just being silly? Did I really need to move on?
The weeks following the decision to finish in the Caribbean held the incredible opportunity to help deliver an eye surgery clinic to hundreds of people. We processed, assessed, treated, and in some cases gave surgery to people for four intensive days. The surgeons worked late into the night, our young volunteers worked tirelessly with often frustrated patients, our engineers fixed faulty gear at a moment’s notice, and grass-roots people met Jesus while getting their sight restored. I’d love to say that being aware that I was in season change meant that I had my swirling emotions and insecurities under control, that I was well rested, cool, calm and collected, a consummate professional; never becoming frustrated, never snapping, never becoming irrational, controlling or micro-managing. But I wasn’t always in control of my self, all of the emotion of ending my season with the ship, all of the frustration at my own failures, all of the grief at my imminent departure added up. There were days when the patience of our volunteers was tested not just by our patients but by my own lack of self-awareness, moments where I made comments or decisions, or snapped when snapping was unproductive.
That week was an incredible one. Despite the tough moments, I ended the week and my time on the vessel with a memory of one of the most successful surgical outreaches I’ve been involved in. Peoples’ sight was restored, lives were committed to Jesus, grace was seen and experienced, kindness was given and received, and we saw the goodness of God in action.
A few days later I walked along the dock before dawn and by the end of the day had travelled through three different airports on a week-long return to Vanuatu. I was tired, I was grateful, I was sad. This was the peak of a season change and I didn’t really know what would come next.
That is so often the way seasons change.
Despite high emotion at times, despite the sadness of leaving behind what is known and comparatively comfortable, I knew that moving on was the right thing to do. I knew that stepping into the unknown would be good: I had a new vision to help grow, and the right person would step into the gap on the ship, taking that vision to higher heights.
By the time I reached Vanuatu I’d talked with the leaders of Marine Reach. We decided that I would finish working with them. 8 years after arriving for a 5 month course, I was landing in Vanuatu looking back on memories which can’t be summed up in a single blog post. The change of seasons was far more significant than I realised standing on the bow of the ship months earlier.
God was in the middle of it all. He always is. A change in life’s seasons can be hard, it can be scary, it will often highlight our least attractive character traits, our ugliest insecurities, our most absurd fears. As we navigate season changes more, we must either learn how to deal with them, as I am beginning to do, or do the less-excellent thing by choosing to avoid season change at all cost. Don’t do the latter, I promise you that it is neither possible nor healthy. Don’t be the person who refuses to do something new for fear of the unknown; nor the person who tries to control everyone around you in order to assure your position in the world. Neither of those people succeed, and when it comes crashing in, it always hurts more than simply accepting that change must come.
Seasons will change, for me that means I get to help start some amazing projects. It also means that I have the responsibility to hand them over before I’ve stayed too long, before they’ve reached their potential. My place is in the starting, and it hurts to leave when good people are still working their butts off. But I must move on to the next thing before I break the thing I’ve given my best to. God gives us the grace for what He calls us to, and He gives us the ability to step into the new, secure in the knowledge that He IS with us.
What season are you in? How do you navigate season changes in life?
Since finishing with Marine Reach, I’ve been working for V2 Life Association, a tiny charity running a growing primary school and missionary training campus in rural Vanuatu. It’s not what I thought I’d be doing…you could say that about every season since I started in missions 10 years ago.
One thing remains constant: no two days are the same.
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