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.
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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.
“He was my friend”
It has been a year since we said good bye to Dave and I still miss him a lot…here are some thoughts I put together at the time.
A few days ago I had just arrived at work when I got a message to say that our pastor, Pastor Dave, had just experienced a massive heart attack and the paramedics were in attendance. You have to understand that Dave had prior near death experiences and often talked about how in that time the Lord had reminded him of his fragility, and God’s sovereignty over both life and death. Dave was no stranger to health challenges, so my first thought was to pray for his family. I prayed for peace and grace in a scary time.
Then I sent him a short message, I said:
“Praying for you my friend.
“He’s God, I’m not.” One of my favourite Dave quotes.
May His peace and healing be all over you.
Much love”
A few minutes later, I was told that the paramedics had stopped their resuscitation attempts. He never read my message. He had joined our heavenly father in glory.
Dave was a pastor, called to the ministry as a young man in a dramatic way, and he gave his best to that calling. He loved people the way pastors should: being there for them in their pain, praying for them in hospital, celebrating with them in marriage and birth. He presided over countless weddings, funerals, and baby dedications. He was a lover of God and of people, and those who spoke to him even once, knew that. He taught the word of God, the love of our saviour Jesus, and the work of the Holy Spirit without compromise. He was my pastor, and I was grateful for his wisdom.
Dave was a leader. He had a remarkable ability to draw a team around him and then empower and encourage them to flourish in the potential God placed them. And those people were drawn to him, giving freely of their time and energy for the sake of service to the God of heaven, responding to the gift Jesus gave with their passion, time, and abilities. He was a leader to me, and he was easy to follow.
Dave was a visionary. When I met him, he was about to catch a call to ministry in Vanuatu as the pastor of the International Christian Church. At the time, the church was a small but dedicated group of mostly expatriate missionaries and pastors looking for Christian community and an english speaking Sunday service. Dave saw the vision of the Lord to grow that little church to reach out beyond the missionary community in Vanuatu, and minister intentionally to the not-churched expatriate community. He saw the opportunity and God’s vision to love and care for those in Vanuatu who weren’t being reached by other churches. He saw that we would need more space. He stretched to both increase the church’s giving, and to raise funds to build our own building. It was a vision far bigger than any of our individual skills, but he knew God had spoken. He challenged me often to believe God for much more than I dared.
Dave was a mentor. He was that kind of pastor who didn’t simply lead his team. He would sit with them and hear their hearts. He would speak truth in love, even when it was uncomfortable to hear. He would stand with people during their tough times, speaking life, calling out the good in people that they often couldn’t see themselves. He was a mentor to me: rebuking me when I needed it, encouraging and exhorting me to be who God called me to be. He showed the love of Jesus, showed what it was to love Jesus well, and what it looked like to love others that way.
Dave was a father and husband. He was a father to two wonderful, God honouring children who are a tribute to he and Julie’s parenting. He was a husband to one wife, Julie, who complimented him beautifully. He loved his children and wife with a passion which he was not afraid to show. His ability to recognise and honour the strengths and gifts they have was an example to those who spent time with him. Dave was a father figure to countless young men whose own fathers left gaps in their upbringing. He was a father to me, championing me when I needed it, boasting on me when he found a chance, and declaring the transition I was embarking on in important moments. He spoke fatherhood over me as I grappled with the arrival of my own daughter.
But the one thing which has repeated in my heart over and over since Dave went to be with the King?
Dave was my friend.
As a friend, Dave expressed an aspect of Jesus we rarely get to see worked out in life. When things weren’t good and I needed to share my heart, Dave showed Jesus’ heart, he listened and understood. Dave told stories to make me laugh and cry, stories which had a point. When Dave was convicted by the Lord or full of vision, when he was having a tough time, he shared his heart. Dave knew that he’d be loved and that I’d share what I could see, that I would see “Dave.” He saw Jared, and was seen by Jared.
Dave was a lot of good things, he was rightly referred to by many titles: reverend, minister, pastor, leader, visionary, father, and mentor. He was sometimes frustrating and exasperating. But on the last day of his life, amid all of the other good things, one title stood out the most to me.
Dave was my friend. I miss Dave.
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