Jesus

But it can’t be that simple, can it?

/ Jared Waipouri

A while back I wrote about my opinion that the key to successful fundraising as a missionary is Doing what God says. It might seem a bit simplistic to some, and totally unreachable for others. Let’s talk about it.

I realise the claim I’m making. To recommend doing what God says, I’m claiming that God speaks today. Assuming that’s true, and I’m confident it is, I’m also claiming that knowing what He’s saying and acting on it is possible. Again, I’m certain that we can know what God says AND act on His instructions in obedience.

Why am I so certain?
These are results of the finished work of Jesus Christ, dead on a cross, buried for three days, then resurrected, freeing those who put their faith in Him from the eternal death caused by sin. Jesus didn’t simply die to be our fire insurance, preventing us from burning in hell. He rose again so that we can live in relationship with a God so eternal that we struggle to comprehend His magnificence. Knowing His voice, and being free to respond to it is a vital part of that relationship.

So God SPEAKS?
To use the phrase “do what God says” is perhaps a little misleading or simplistic. Not because He does not communicate, but because for many believers who have learned to listen and obey, hearing an audible voice would be really unusual. Some people do hear God speaking to them in a voice, and I am a little envious (it would be so much more certain). But for many others, the “voice” of God is found in a quiet “nudge” in their mind. For others it can be more easily felt as a sense of rightness (or wrongness) in the gut. For others still, they read words on a page as though highlighted, and in reading them sense God talking directly. There are some who have God dreams, and others who have God visions. The point though, is that God speaks as much today as He did in the time of Isaiah or Jeremiah. The relief is we’re less likely to be stoned to death if what we thought He told us turns out to be less god and more gas.
I understand those who feel uneasy with all of this, for many people the thought of having a spiritual voice talking to them, especially if it is the creator of the universe, is terrifying, or maybe arrogant…how could I think that a omniscient God would want to talk to me, a total mess-up?! For others, they learned that God stopped speaking directly to His people after the revelation of John, so how could I be hearing Him?
I’m not a theologian, and can’t dig really deep into those things.
I can say that God does speak today through the Holy Spirit. As lovers of Jesus, we must listen.

How can I be sure I’m hearing Him?
1-When Jesus told his disciples that he was going back to heaven, He promised to send the Holy Spirit, and that when they Holy Spirit came they would experience “peace that surpasses understanding.”
As you try out listening to God, look for a sense of peace in your heart and mind. All of the world around you might be falling apart in spectacular ways, but if find that there is a feeling of “it’s okay.” That might be the peace of the Holy Spirit.
When you’re sensing God speaking or leading, it will always come with a sense of peace that isn’t necessarily logical or explainable.
2-If you’re thinking you’re hearing God speak, check your bible. The leading of God is not going to contradict God’s law and principles as found in the bible. If you think He’s leading you to murder someone, steal your neighbour’s stuff, or dishonour your parents, check your bible because I’m fairly confident it’s not God talking to you.
3-Seek Godly advice. Whenever we think God is leading us, we can expect that He will give us some sort of confirmation. Sometimes that can be a mentor saying “no, do this other thing first” other times it can be a seasoned missionary saying, “God gave me this verse for you, I think He’s in this crazy idea you have.”

As you learn to listen to His “voice” look for these three signposts: have you got peace, is it consistent with God’s biblical principles and laws, do you have a sense of confirmation from trustworthy Godly leaders around you? If you can answer “yes” to all three, you’re probably moving in the right direction. If any of those are less than a firm yes, keep praying that God will bring you more clarity.

The hardest part is obeying
This whole thing is a really simple process…hear His voice, choose to respond, OBEY.
One of the problems is that while it’s simple, this OBEY part is not easy, in fact sometimes it can be downright painful.
It can be difficult because it requires us to act outside of what might be our natural or cultural tendencies. It can be scary because we are invited to step into unknown and sometimes untested actions. It can be painful because there will be times when we are forced to choose a path which means leaving behind cherished people, routines, or places; and embracing a future which looks full of difficulty and sacrifice.
For men, especially men who have been influenced by more traditional mindsets, this can be extra painful when money is involved.
Here’s where I get personal. Going into marriage, I knew that my “job” as a husband (and later a father) would be to protect, provide, and procreate. The tension as a missionary is that being led by God means trusting Him for finances, meaning the “provide” part looks quite different to what would be considered “normal.”
On the one hand, there will be people looking at my life choices and thinking that I’m not being a good husband or father because I’m not working a job to earn money to provide a house and financial security. On the other hand, our financial security is directly tied to the relationship I have with the creator of the universe, so as long as I remain connected and obedient to His call on my life, we will be cared for. This is all well and good as words on a screen, but when your family of four is squeezed into a flood prone tiny home of 33sqm (330sqft) it’s raining heavily, and the kids are bouncing off the walls because they want to be outside, the temptation to find some paying work to buy your way out of the situation becomes very strong. In that temptation, the choice to obey God and stay there while He works on providing a new housing option is simple, but not easy. Not easy because I don’t get to control what He says, when He says it, or where He leads me. Simple because I still get to say “yes” and obey Him anyway (I wrote about this uncomfortable challenge with our beautiful home a few weeks ago).
The not-so-easy choice for us all is to take the risk of obedience, knowing that our fallible humanity might mean our hearing isn’t always spot on, and trust that the God of heaven will be faithful anyway.
The alternative choice, to feel always in control, going the way we think is best, is easier in the short term, but isn’t great for our relationship with the Jesus we’re trying to follow.
The results are fairly simply put: when we choose to respond to His leadership with obedience, He will help us to fine-tune our hearing.
If we choose to go our own way, we will feel the lingering questions of what might have been, and likely notice that His voice is more and more faint as we choose to ignore it.

What do you think? Is following God’s specific leading in your life as simple as all this?

The Special House and the Beautiful Home

/ Jared Waipouri

Recently we were asked to house sit for our friends. Their home is a comfortable 4 bedroom house with a reasonably sized living room, a distinct dining area, and a large kitchen. The master bedroom has an ensuite, and the main bathroom is a good size.

Contrast this with our house: One room does double-duty as a master and children’s bedroom, with a compact bathroom attached. The second room has an efficiently laid out but small kitchen, and the other half of the room is lounge and living space. The entire building wouldn’t exceed 35 square metres.
It is a small house.
With a 2 year old high energy toddler and a 3 month old in the home, space for sewing and craft projects is limited, not to mention cooking, playing, and relaxing. It’s probably little wonder that I was thoroughly excited when we moved into the expanse of our friends’ home. A home our daughter soon began referring to as our “Special House”.

The joy of having space was real. The ability for her to run around without being outside in the rain or in the unsecured right-next-to-the-road yard was, by itself, an amazing relief. In addition, I had a room just for me, an office. Joyce had an entire table to herself, able to leave her sewing or earring projects where they were without needing to pack them away every time she stopped work. 

The benefits were worth the extra logistics of now needing to drive half an hour to work in place of a 5 minute walk. They were even worth the obligation to feed our friends’ animals. 

But very soon the reality of what was to come hit me. Our special house was amazing, but in a few short weeks we would need to downsize back to our tiny home in the swamp. We would force ourselves back into a cramped and sometimes stifling space, in which only one of us can spread out on the kitchen table at a time. 

As a traditionally influenced family man, I felt this reality in a very clear way: I need to provide a bigger house for my family. How can I do that? Inevitably, facing the truth that our current income just barely covers increasing living costs, I felt a sense of sinking hope and rising anxiety. As a faith-based missionary working a full-time role with little room for respite from the demands of the job, I could not see what I could “do” to improve things.
It’s not that I cannot get a normal paying job to qualify us for a mortgage, nor is it about a willingness to work hard. The tension resides in the call of God on our lives to serve as missionaries freely, trusting in His sovereign provision. It is a call which means that we recognise his faithfulness, and trust Him to meet our financial and practical needs through the generosity of others as we give our time, energy, and talents to serving His Kingdom. And years ago I learned that trying to shortcut that process by dividing my time between my core “missions” work, and paid employment is not how He wants me to operate…mine is the call to do one thing, and do it with my whole heart.
So reflecting on all of this left me feeling a little powerless to “make it happen now” as I wanted to.

Around this time, my daughter found a way to better define the difference between our friends’ house where we were sleeping, and our actual house, where she, her brother, and Joyce spent the days while I worked. Our friends’ house was already the special house, and soon our house became known as our “Beautiful Home.”

God was speaking. Part loving reminder, part exhortation, part rebuke.

I should point out that since well before I began my YWAM journey, I have heard God speak, and then watched Him deliver on what He said many, many times. Each time has been as much a miracle as the last.
In fact, in the last 12 months He invited us to buy land and then miraculously provided ALL of the funds we need to do that. He has continuously shown that when we trust Him, He is found faithful.

So as we drove along, my daughter asked if we were going to our beautiful home. In that question the Lord reminded me that this beautiful home, small and cramped as it may be, is His sovereign provision. He reminded me how in 2019 my friend felt led to give me the shipping container, initiating the build of the original part of the house. God gave us all of the funds to build, furnish, and sustain it. Then in late 2020 He provided again for us to expand it in preparation for our daughter’s birth.
Yet here I was treating God’s provision with frustration, irritation, and disregard (maybe even disdain).

God used my daughter to remind me that He always gives us good gifts. Gifts like our beautiful home.
It is a beautiful home not because it is nice to look at, or has ornate furnishings, or is very large, or even very efficient. It is our beautiful home because God himself provided it, and then gave me a family to fill it up with. 

The special house was a precious time of rest for our little family, a time we could have space and comfort. But moving back to our beautiful home was a sigh of relief: small as it is, it is OUR beautiful home. It has been God’s provision for US in this season. So as He provides for new land and a new home, I know that this one will continue to be a beautiful provision for V2 Life’s staff team.

Our God does not leave us uncared for.
He cares for us.
He gives us what we need to point glory back to Him.
He always loves.
And sometimes He needs us to be uncomfortable to make sure we keep our eyes on what’s important.

What beautiful provision is He reminding you of today?

Featured

Why Grassroots impact should get your attention (and cash)

/ Jared Waipouri / 2 Comments

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.

When seasons change

/ Jared Waipouri

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.