“We have started a Back Pack Pals Program (kids that are hungry will get a back pack of food for the weekend). We have heard from teachers that this has helped so many kids, they are improving with discipline issues, academics, parent/teacher relationships. I was wondering your thoughts on this type of program, and how can we adjust it, so that it is NOT a handout or “entitlement” situation?  We have so many church members that are active in this ministry, we DON’T want to just kill it – there might be some blow back. How can we adjust it so that it is more in line with the philosophy you espouse”  Donna

Donna:

I understand the appeal of the back pack food program.  Hungry children always touch the hearts of compassionate people.  And the back pack concept is such an easy image to convey.  All you need is one moving story of a neglected child and it becomes a highly marketable approach.  Easy to organize and expedite.

But take a quick glimpse behind the scenes at the home life of the child and the need immediately becomes more complicated.  A single mom struggling with addiction, predatory men coming in and out the home, food stamps being bartered for cigarettes and alcohol, back pack food being used to support a destructive lifestyle.  Or perhaps the situation is not quite this dire.  Perhaps it is a mother, probably single, who is working two jobs to support her family but must leave her children unsupervised much of the time.  She may be doing her best to provide, being as responsible as she is able, but the influences of the street constantly lure her kids into unwholesome activities.  Back pack food supplements are appreciated but they do not address the real pressures she is facing.

What every child needs most in life is a stable home with two effective parents.  In our inner-cities one effective parent is usually optimal.  Food security, as important as it may be, does not compare with the need for a responsible parent.  Our society provides a food safety net for children – free meals at school and food stamps for the family.  Such entitlements do encourage dependency but are probably necessary when families face difficult economic times.  But when the crisis passes, when parents are back at work, when the back rent is caught up, this is the time for development – not continued emergency assistance.  Struggling parents need a plan, a coach, a training program, a better job, hope.  And kids need the benefit of enheartened parents.  Does a back pack food program offer this?  I suspect not.

The only way to responsibly assess the need for additional supplemental weekend food is to have personal involvement with the family.  Teachers can give anecdotal reports on a few children, usually without much depth.  School social workers sometimes have a better feel for home life realities.  After-school programs run by churches and non-profits often have the best insight.  The more personal time invested with a child and his or her family the more accurate the picture.  The key to effective service, of course, is to accurately assess the need, then apply the appropriate remedy.  A broad brush, indiscriminate distribution of resources without in-person knowledge of need is not only irresponsible, it may actually be harmful.

So what to do with your Back Pack Pals Program?  I guess you first have to ask: “Who is this program for?”  I know it seems so compassionate, so right, so Biblical.  But it is unexamined charity.  In order to verify that it is transformative rather than toxic, due diligence must be conducted to determine the down-stream impact.  Anecdotal reports from teachers are insufficient.  Homes and families must be visited, personal relationships must be forged, insights must be gained to determine priority needs and appropriate actions.  Obviously, this cannot be done en masse.  Or quickly.  It is personal work.  It does not lend itself to large numbers.  It will likely require trustworthy partners on the ground who will serve as guides.  And it will likely call for engagement far more involved than food collection and distribution.

Which brings me back to my earlier question: “Who is this program for?”   I know how we Americans love to design efficient systems that yield big results.  And we’re good at it.  That’s why programs like Back Pack Pals are so appealing to us.  But effective service among the poor is neither efficient nor large-scale.   Effective service is relational.  We might take the position that the teachers have the relationship with the kids and Book Bag Buddies is serving the poor by supporting the teachers.  Perhaps.  But teachers are not social workers.  They are about developing young minds, not intervening in family affairs.  And if a child’s greatest need is a stable home and an effective parent, then Book Bag Buddies as currently structured does not go to that need.  Further, without accountability there is no assurance that the donations are benefitting the intended recipients.  The program is an emergency response to a chronic poverty need.  Development, not donations, is what a chronic situation calls for.

So how could the program be modified to a more developmental approach?  A food co-op for parents might be one approach.  Parents could purchase donated food, thus increasing the buying power of their food dollar while preserving their dignity – and supporting their responsibility as providers for their families.  Kids could do extra duties around the school to earn their back packs.  Back packs could become rewards for performance and achievements.  Delicate business perhaps, but it would certainly reveal just how important the food is to them.  To the extent that there is mutual exchange in the program, to that degree there is dignity and accountability.

Responsible charity follows this progression: immediate care with a future plan; emergency relief with responsible development; short term intervention with long term involvement; heart responses with engaged minds.  If we do it right we will see the following outcomes: human dignity is enhanced (mutual exchange); trusting relationships grow (accountability over time); self-sufficiency increases (employment, self-reliance).

Hope this helps,

Bob

Chief financial officer (CFO) may well be the most responsible (and stressful) position in any organization. With discerning fingers on the financial pulse of the operation, this key person remains ever vigilant for trends that may impact future stability. When cash flow is tight, it’s the CFO who must make the hard decisions about what bills to pay and in what order, and when the coffers are empty, answer to angry creditors or unsympathetic IRS agents or an irritated boss. He (or she) receives very little praise for producing accurate financial reports but draws withering criticism when the numbers look bad. It’s a thankless job even though most leaders know that competent financial management is essential to the success of any enterprise. A CFO may be valued but seldom praised.

This is why I have sympathy for Judas Iscariot, CFO of the Jesus Campaign. He has drawn a lot of criticism over the years for his ill-conceived decision to “out” Jesus, but I can’t help wondering if his motives were at least partially positive. Think how stressful it must have been to attempt to manage the campaign finances of a charismatic leader whose response to responsible planning was “Aw, don’t worry about it…tomorrow will take care of itself…have faith…birds don’t have savings accounts, do they?” Can you imagine how a responsible treasurer would feel when taxes were due, their account empty, and then overhear the leader tell his staff to “go fishing” and look for the tax money in a fish’s mouth?! Oh yes, the Master was certainly a miracle worker par excellence, but there is a fine line between faith and foolhardy. Is there no place in this Kingdom for budgeting and saving?

And then there was the issue of the shameful waste the Master condoned – no, affirmed – allowing enraptured women to pour out extravagantly expensive perfume, on his feet no less. And it happened more than once! It was probably worth a good year’s wages. Nothing upsets a CFO more than irresponsible misappropriation of resources, especially when money is tight. After three years of near-futile effort to keep campaign books in some semblance of order, Judas had to be very frustrated. And it wasn’t getting any easier. Insiders were beginning to question the way he was handling the money. And the Master seemed not a bit closer to publicly asserting his divinely ordained messiah-ship. In fact, public opinion appeared to be turning against him. Something had to give.

Sometimes it takes someone on the inside, someone who knows the leader well – his unique strengths as well as his weak spots – to serve as the catalyst to get things moving, particularly when they are getting a bit bogged down. Sometimes the right nudge can spur needed movement. Perhaps a confrontation with the authorities would propel the campaign onto center stage. That might be exactly what the Master was waiting for. At some point He would have to demonstrate His heavenly power and publicly declare that He was indeed the One sent from above. If He was to take the throne as the long awaited Messiah of Israel, a major power-shift would have to occur. A resourceful, behind-the-scenes CFO might be just the one to precipitate this action. And generate some income in the process.

But the plan went wrong, badly wrong. The Master did not summon His heavenly power. No angels, no dramatic miracles, not even a verbal pushback. He simply extended his wrists and accepted the ropes. His loyal friends immediately scattered and ran. The strategy, instead of being a catalyst to ignite the Messiah campaign, became its ruin. And there was no way to undo it.

Judas would never forgive himself. Nor would anyone else. Ever.

It makes me stop and think. Might Judas’ tragic end have been different if Peter had said to him “I screwed up too!”? Or if the other disciples had admitted to him that they too had it all wrong. CFO’s have feelings too, you know. I must remember this. So before I criticize my treasurer for being too anal, too controlling, too linear, I need to remember the emotional weight he or she may be carrying. Before I wage into a heated battle of wills over cutting a check that I’m “sure” will be covered by an anticipated donation, before I bicker over burying my questionable expenditure in an approved line-item, I need to remind myself that a good accountant is highly conscientious, not simply head-strong or risk-averse. Before I disparage the keeper of my books as a small minded bean-counter, I need to remember that a little affirmation goes a long way with someone whose work is often challenged but seldom praised. I wonder if anyone ever expressed appreciation to Judas for his work.

“We have a problem,” a sober delegation of Ezra’s appointed leaders reported to him.  Illegal aliens had infiltrated Israel’s borders.  Not like enemy saboteurs.  Worse! They had slipped right into the homes, the bedrooms, of some of the most prominent leadership of the society – even the priesthood!  Yes it was true. There were disturbing numbers of Jewish men who had taken wives from several of the surrounding pagan countries, had children by them, and were allowing foreign influences to contaminate the Jewish culture.  Some were even permitting their wives and children to speak the languages and practice the religion of their foreign homelands. This was clearly a violation of the Law.

No one had to tell Ezra about the Law.  He was the leading expert – theologian laureate of the Hebrew faith.  That was the main reason King Artaxerxes had named him governor of Israel.  Ezra was deeply devoted to the Law of Yahweh which made him an honorable and trustworthy appointee, and one that the Jewish returnees from Babylonian captivity would respect and follow.  There was a lot of reconstruction to do after 75 years of exile and Ezra’s first priority was reestablishing Temple worship and adherence to the Word of God.  He had not anticipated that returnees would be intermarrying with the women of foreign cultures.

Ezra was distraught.  In public display of distress he dropped to his knees and tore at his robe and beard.  Such flagrant disobedience could bring on the severe judgment of Yahweh, he bellowed.  The Law clearly stated that the children of Israel were not to take foreign brides.  Idol worship and other abominations introduced by alien women would pollute the monotheistic Jewish religion.  The Law was full of warnings, threats of God’s judgment, if the people did not obey.  There were other commands, of course, like slaying all their pagan enemies.  And certain allowances to marry slave women from conquered countries.  But these were “conquest laws” applied to an earlier time in history when Israel was in a conquering mode.  The Law that applied to Ezra’s time was “restorative law”, the law that was needed to restore the faithful practice of Yahweh-worship by a captive people returning to their homeland.  It was Ezra’s sacred duty to interpret and apply the Law.  And getting rid of the corrupting influence of foreign wives seemed essential if the judgment of God was to be averted and the purity of the religion reestablished.

So that’s exactly what he did.  With blind, nationalistic zeal, Ezra ordered the break-up of every mixed-race family and sent all the traumatized women and children away to survive as best they could as widows and orphans in their native lands.  His memoirs conclude with a public listing of the names of all the offenders – devastated men forced to divorce their wives and forsake their children.  Israel had been purged.  But at what a cruel price!

I suppose we cannot be too harsh in our criticism of Ezra.  He did what most religious leaders do – selectively read the scriptures and extract those verses they believe fit the situation.  Ezra opts for purity of doctrine over compassion, ignoring passages of the Law that admonish Israel to love foreigners as themselves, to judge them fairly, to invite them into worship.  Somehow he overlooks Yahweh’s threat to curse those who deal unjustly with foreigners.

Strange, isn’t it, how this issue of illegal immigration repeats itself over and over again throughout history?  And how the law is invoked to expel the innocent.  One would think that breaking up families would be the last thing a family-oriented culture like Israel and like ours would want to do.  Some, it seems, would prefer the Ezra-style purging approach, separating marriages and sending children back to lands they have never known.  Admittedly, there is something very clean and decisive about the law and order approach.  It certainly worked for Ezra.  For a while.  And the sacred text never does disclose how Yahweh felt about Ezra’s deportation decision.  I guess it’s up to us to interpret whether God is more interested in the law or grace.

The first stirring in my soul that I can remember was at a Billy Graham crusade when I was seven.  I asked my mom if I could go forward.  That marked the beginning of my spiritual journey.  My faith was nurtured by a supportive family and good youth leaders at church.  By the time I entered adolescence I was still serious about my relationship with God.  I maintained a fairly consistent daily quiet time, usually each afternoon when I got home from school.

It was during one of these quiet times that I heard a Voice – not audible but clear.  It was a very strong impression that I should go ask Uncle Billy, the neighborhood drunk who lived across the street, if he was ready to meet God.  The thought terrified me.  I had always avoided Uncle Billy as he stumbled down the sidewalk, never once had a conversation with him.  He lived alone in the other half of a duplex where my schoolmate Jimmy lived.  He was Jimmy’s alcoholic uncle.

I couldn’t do it!  I just couldn’t bring myself to approaching a virtual stranger and asking him such a personal question.  I abandoned my devotional time and went out to play.  But a heaviness in my chest would not leave.  I returned to my bedroom to seek relief.  The Voice was unrelenting.  After agonizing moments – that seemed like hours – I finally bargained to walk across to Uncle Billy’s front porch and if he was sitting outside I would ask him.  But as I walked past he was not on his porch – such a great relief!  So once again I headed down the street to play.

But the heaviness would not leave.  Reluctantly, I returned to my room once again.  The Voice was clear as ever.  “Go ask Uncle Billy if he is ready to meet God.”  None of my objections or fears was sufficient to overcome its persistent power.  It was a wrestling match that I would not win – not unless I wanted to willfully disobey and run away from God.  But the story of Jonah reminded me that running from God was not a good alternative.

I finally gave in.  I summoned all my courage, walked across to Uncle Billy’s duplex and knocked on his front door.  He opened it and greeted me.  He was sober.  He invited me in and after exchanging a few awkward “how you doing” words, I blurted out the question that had been so forcefully impressed on my mind: “Are you ready to meet God?”  He walked over to a bookcase and removed a dusty family bible – it was a German version.  He opened it to a section that contained handwritten records and pointed to a page that bore his name – his baptismal certificate.  And on the facing page, the record of his confirmation.  I knew nothing of the significance of these documents nor of the religious traditions of his German heritage.  And so I innocently asked once again: “But are you ready to meet God?”  He thought about my question for a moment and then replied: “I think I’m OK.”  The heaviness left my chest.

I had nearly forgotten about the encounter when later in the week I was talking with Jimmy.  “Did you hear about Uncle Billy?” he asked me.  “My dad found him dead in his bed this morning.  He’d been dead about four days.”  I cannot adequately describe the emotions that trembled in my viscera.  I had doubtless been the last person Uncle Billy had talked with before departing this world.  God obviously desired to get Uncle Billy’s attention at a crucial moment and decided to use a boy to do it.

It seems that one’s youth does not limit one’s participation in God’s Kingdom.  I was fourteen.  Jesus was even younger when he confounded the elders in the temple.  ^“Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young,” the apostle Paul told his young disciple Timothy, “but set an example for the believers…” (1Tim 4:12)   God can and does use young people to accomplish His purposes, often mightily.  To affirm the capacities of young believers, to ignite their imaginations as change agents in their world – this is a vitally important ministry of the church.

Adolescence is a decisive time in life.  It is the time when most of us begin a conscious search for meaning and purpose – something to believe in.  It is a moment when our sensitivities are unusually susceptible to spiritual influences – a moment to be taken very seriously by the influencers in our lives.  When the church assumes responsibility for this sobering task, not only must role models be trustworthy but the message must be trustworthy as well.  Nothing is more hurtful to the faith of young believers than to discover that they have been deceived by the ones in whom they have placed their trust.

That’s why the issue of integrity is so important when it comes to marketing mission trips and service projects.  For young people to be told that the sandwiches and blankets they are handing out to the homeless on the street will keep these men from starving and freezing, only to later discover that these gifts are actually being misused to support destructive lifestyles – such a revelation can turn innocence into cynicism.   Far better to be candid and discuss up front the risks as well as the potential benefits of service.  To promote an image of helpless children in rags whose hopes are riding on suitcases (or containers) full of clothes that Americans have in abundance, only to find out that these gifts actually destroy local businesses, create unemployment, and intensify poverty – such misrepresentation can be deeply damaging to the development of young faith.  Far better to explore together best practices and devise methods of exchange that have the potential for lasting benefit.  Some realities may be tough to explain, and may lack the emotional appeal of “rescuing the perishing” but it is far easier to deal up front with truth than repair the damage done by deception.

There is no doubt that young people can be powerfully used by God.  Youthful optimism, un-jaded by life’s failures and disappointments, is a gift to be nurtured.  But it also needs the tempering of wisdom and maturity.  And that comes from trustworthy guides seasoned in their own faith-walk, committed to high standards of honesty and integrity.

“…and all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them.”

Of course everyone wondered!   These were shepherds, after all.  Shepherds!  Illiterates at the bottom of the social pecking order.  Smelly, disreputable people, mostly hirelings and scruffy youth, who could not be trusted.  Maybe one time, long ago, their class might have been esteemed as the wealth-guardians of nomadic patriarchs but that was before agriculture took root and commerce settled the land.  Now they were virtual outcasts, not even permitted to appear as credible witnesses in court.   And respectable citizens were supposed to believe that an angel – whole heavenly choir of them – appeared to them?!  And invited them to a private reception for Israel’s long anticipated Messiah?  When no one else saw any angels and no one else got an invitation?  You bet everyone wondered!  And for good reason.

It would be like an angel, a whole flock of them, appearing today to a group of homeless guys camped out in the woods, announcing to them that the second coming was about to arrive and they would be first in line.  Who would believe them?  No matter that they all swore on the Bible that it was really true, that it really happened. The sober citizenry would simply roll their eyes and dismiss it as fantasy or hallucination. They must have gotten into some bad booze!

But Mary didn’t dismiss it.  She listened intently to what the shepherds told her about the apparition.  She observed their excitement, their naive faith, and invited them to ogle over her newborn infant.  While others wondered, Mary pondered. While others doubted, Mary took it all in.  While others dismissed the account as preposterous, Mary stayed open to the mysterious movement of the Divine.  “But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.”

Apparitions were not totally foreign to Mary.  Nine months earlier she experienced one herself. And hers was far more incredible than the shepherds’. The angel Gabriel appeared to her and informed her that she would become pregnant, not from human intercourse, but by God himself!  Now who would believe a story like that?!  And then there were her aging cousins Zacharias and Elisabeth and their miracle child John, whose very name had been couriered by Gabriel.  Yes, Mary was acquainted with the fearful, mysterious, wondrous working of the Divine. And her response from the very first was: “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word.”

“Be it unto me according to thy word…”  No matter how far outside the bounds of convention that word may be.  No matter that God would enter human history through an unwed mother, or announce His arrival through social outcasts, or become a political refuge, or underwrite His escape with foreign, pagan wealth.  No matter how strange, how baffling these happenings may have seemed, Mary pondered them in her heart. “Be it unto me according to thy word…”

Has this Kingdom which Mary’s Child introduced become any less baffling today?  Is the Christmas story, though romanticized and sanitized by centuries of tradition, any less a mystery to us than to Mary?  In our poinsettia lined sanctuaries, ablaze with Christmas eve candles and lights, while we are bursting forth in orchestrated anthem “Joy to the world the Lord is come!” are we aware that the Lord has come this night to those who sit in great darkness in squalid refugee camps?  While we gather with family around our beautifully adorned Christmas trees are we aware that Christ is appearing in deeply personal ways to broken men huddling under bridges?  Indeed, how could we know?  Such mysteries are beyond our realm of experience.

But if the entry of Mary’s baby boy is any indication of the way this Prince of Peace appears in our world today, we may be assured that His presence will be revealed to “the least” of society.  Of course, stories from the fringes, if they even reach us, may have questionable credibility and bear little resemblance to accepted orthodoxy.  Most rational people will wonder about them and question their credibility.  But the curious, the naïve, those with child-like faith whose innocence has not been lost to cynicism will, like Mary, ponder these things in their hearts.  And when the Divine appears in inexplicable ways, challenging logic, circumventing convention, opening paths to new understanding, they, with Mary, will respond: “Be it unto me according to thy word.”

Ever wonder why the red and white striped pole is displayed outside many barbershops?  Neither have I.  Not until I stumbled across a morsel of obscure history about this symbol.  I was immediately drawn in.

In the middle ages surgeons and barbers performed most of the operations.  Yes, that’s right – barbers.  Blood-letting was the most commonly prescribed treatment of the day, a cure for almost every ailment.  Surgeons would order it, barbers would do the cutting.  The red-and-white-striped pole outside the barbershop was the signpost that blood-letting was performed here.  The red represents the blood being drawn, the white represents the tourniquet used, and the pole itself represents the stick squeezed in the patient’s hand to dilate the veins.   Interesting, eh?

What I found even more interesting, however, was that for more than 3000 years, from antiquity until the advent of modern scientific medicine, blood-letting was universally accepted as the most effective remedy for almost every disease.  It was recommended for the treatment of countless ailments ranging from cholera to cancer, tetanus to tuberculosis, gout to gangrene.  It was even prescribed to treat acne and hemorrhoids.  Before the circulatory system was understood, a prevailing theory was that blood could stagnate in the extremities.  A build-up of bad blood could cause all manner of maladies.  The cure was purging.

Every one bought in.  For eons.  Even in ancient cultures like the Mesopotamians and Egyptians. The Talmud (ancient Israel’s sacred writings) specified certain days for blood-letting.  Hippocrates (the father of modern medicine) accepted the practice as good medicine some 500 years before the birth of Christ.  So did Socrates and Plato.  Early Christian writings offer advice on which saints’ days were favorable for blood-letting.  Well into the scientific era the practice continued to prevail.  The more blood drawn the better, even to the point of losing consciousness.  Many sessions would only end when the patient began to swoon.   1799 George Washington, suffering from a throat infection, requested that he be bled heavily (nearly four pints) and died shortly thereafter.

One typical course of medical treatment began the morning of 13 July 1824. A French sergeant was stabbed through the chest while engaged in single combat; within minutes, he fainted from loss of blood. Arriving at the local hospital he was immediately bled twenty ounces “to prevent inflammation”. During the night he was bled another 24 ounces. Early the next morning, the chief surgeon bled the patient another 10 ounces (285 ml); during the next 14 hours, he was bled five more times. Medical attendants thus intentionally removed more than half of the patient’s normal blood supply—in addition to the initial blood loss which caused the sergeant to faint. Bleedings continued over the next several days. By 29 July, the wound had become inflamed. The physician applied 32 leeches to the most sensitive part of the wound. Over the next three days, there were more bleedings and a total of 40 more leeches. The sergeant recovered and was discharged on 3 October. His physician wrote that “by the large quantity of blood lost, amounting to 170 ounces [nearly eleven pints], besides that drawn by the application of leeches [perhaps another two pints], the life of the patient was preserved”.  

“The life of the patient was preserved” by draining thirteen pints of his blood?!  Outrageous!  Sounds totally absurd today.  But is it any more absurd than the widely accepted practice of draining off the strength of able-bodied adults by “curing” them with dependency-producing subsidies?  Can we legitimately claim to be “preserving the life” of the needy by weakening their capacity to become self-sufficient?   And how absurd is it to measure the effectiveness of our remedy by the volume of recipients who return for repeated “treatments”?

Is harmful medical treatment better than no treatment at all?  The French sergeant who survived the blood-letting would doubtless answer “yes”.  His surgeon acted upon the best knowledge that was available at the time.  Is harmful charity better than no charity at all?  Recipients would doubtless urge its continuation.  But just as it took centuries of malpractice before the medical profession finally realized that blood-adding, not blood-letting, actually saves lives, so charitable malpractice may have to run its course.

Bloodletting persisted into the 20th century.  Not until Pasteur (1822-1895) figured out that germs, not bad blood, cause diseases did the practice begin to fall out of favor.  It took many more decades before the practice was finally abandoned.  The modern science of microbiology finally brought a 3000 year practice to an end.  I can’t help wondering how long it will take the tradition-steeped compassion industry to recognize the need for a fundamental change of practice.

When I was six I heard an advertisement on the radio about how easily and quickly one could learn to play a harmonica.  I was captivated.  I begged my mother to help me order one.  I would pay for it from my allowance savings.  She consented.

After impatient weeks of checking the postman’s daily deliveries it finally arrived.  It was a colossal disappointment.  The harmonica was cheap plastic and the instructions were difficult to read.  It was immediately obvious to my six-year-old mind that all my blowing was never going to produce melodious tunes like I had heard on the radio advertisement.  My sister snickered.

To ease my wounded spirit (and perhaps to encourage my musical interest) my parents gave me a really nice harmonica for my next birthday.  A metal one that sounded harmonious no matter where you blew on its keyboard.  And blow I did.  I practiced and practiced, mostly on simple church tunes (but also a few faster-moving ones like Turkey in the Straw).  My parents seemed pleased.  My sister rolled her eyes.

My church was big on revival.  That’s what the country really needed – a spiritual outpouring that would save us from all the evil and immorality that was so rampant in our society.  We prayed fervently every Sunday for another “great awakening.”  To a six-year-old whose reality was defined by his parents’ beliefs, it was clear that a revival was the only thing that would save us from impending doom.   How do you start a revival?  I innocently inquired.  Prayer, lots of prayer, and obedience, my mother counseled me.  Do whatever God asks of us, she said.

Six-year-old minds are very active.  What could I do to help start a revival and save our land?   Then I had an idea.  What if I offered God my harmonica playing ability?  Could God use that to start a revival?  I asked my mother.  She said that it was a wonderful idea, that God could use any gift offered to accomplish His purposes.  My sister smirked.

Sixty-two years later the lessons I gleaned from my harmonica days are still with me.  I remain highly suspicious of anyone selling anything that seems too good to be true.  But I do believe what my mother told me – at least the part about God can use any gift offered to accomplish His purposes.  And another conviction remains – the belief that everyone, including six-year-olds, has an innate desire to make a difference in the world.

That’s why young people sign up for mission trips.  And because we know this, we play to this desire in our recruitment appeals.  “You can save the world” is the alluring message.  It has enormous heart-appeal.  And what parent can resist the impulses of their child’s heart to make a difference in the world?   Thus, the funding.   But do mission trips over-promise the actual results?  Will this quick and easy method of ministry lead to the same kind of colossal disappointment as the deceptive harmonica hype I fell for?

Our desire is to develop inspired and inspiring young leaders, not disillusioned ones.  It is certainly important for young people (of all ages) to believe deeply that they can make a difference in their world.  It is important for them to know that in God’s economy every act of love counts – every smile, every kind word, every thoughtful deed.  “God can use any gift offered to accomplish His purposes.”   But it is also important for them to understand how helping can sometimes hurt.  Passing out T-shirts and candy to excited village children may seem like pure loving kindness until volunteers learn how the village elders are reacting but are reluctant to reveal – that this only encourages a culture of beggary.  Eager to serve, missioners innocently offer to do things for others, not realizing that they have wounded the pride and dignity of people who have more than adequate capability to do it for themselves.

But how can our young people gain these insights?  How can they become truly helpful instead of unintentionally hurtful?

Alison from Colorado who coordinates mission trips to Haiti emailed me recently with these very questions.  She was painfully aware that the service her volunteers performed was largely make-work and their suitcases stuffed with free gifts only perpetuated a hands-out mentality among Haitians.  She asked for my advice.

From: Bob Lupton [fcslupton@comcast.net]
Sent: Wednesday, April 25, 2012 12:44 PM
To: alisons@٭٭٭٭.org
Subject: mission trips

Dear Alison:

I understand the demand to do mission trips and the pressure you feel to continue planning them.  Here are a few suggestions that may make them more redemptive.

Exposing young people (and adults) to the needs of the world and the amazing work of God in harsh environments is important ministry. It opens their eyes, stirs their hearts and draws them into compassionate action. That’s why mission trips can be important in the spiritual development of our youth. And that’s what mission trips should be about – spiritual development, not pretending that they are about saving the world. Not immediately anyway. They are about saving us. Preparing us. Once that is clear, we can venture into Haiti and other places of need with integrity.

We go to learn, not to save.  The mindset of learners is very different from that of servers. Learners listen to others, servers do for others. Learners ask questions, servers offer answers. Learners marvel at the faith of the poor, servers pity the poor. Learners see ingenuity, servers see poverty. Learners affirm the worth of people, servers diminish their dignity. You see where I am going with this?

So how do we structure a mission trip that appeals to the innate desire to make a difference in the world, an experience that deepens the spiritual lives of our youth but doesn’t create false expectations?  And of course, is truly helpful.  First of all, our marketing has to have integrity. The trip is primarily about us, not them. And that’s OK. This is an insight trip to expand our spiritual horizons, see how faith works when resources are severely limited, discover how God is at work among culturally and theologically diverse people.  Such insights can be transformative. They can become the very catalysts that ignite a ministry calling. 

Secondly, we are not on a mission to help the poor by distributing suitcases full of give-away’s or performing meaningless make-work or assuming roles that can better be handled by locals.  We do not promote beggary.  We engage in exchange – economic as well as interpersonal.  We enjoy the hospitality that is extended by our hosts, and we contribute to their economy by participating in the legitimate enterprise of tourism through fair payment for food, lodging , local transportation and preparation time.  And we buy their products.

Thirdly, we prepare our youth for the learning experience by reading books on effective service (like Toxic Charity and When Helping Hurts) and articles on the country, the history and contemporary issues. Learning the language honors people, at least some key phrases.  “Appreciative inquiry” techniques, note-taking and journaling can also be useful. Regular group reflection times during and following the trip will help youth assimilate and internalize what they are experiencing.

It goes without saying that on-the-ground connections with seasoned, in-country practitioners is essential to understand the context, scope and impact of the work. Visiting with several different ministries will broaden the perspective. They are the ones who can arrange discussions with residents as well as fun – like a soccer game with local teens. They will be relieved that they don’t have to set up work projects for your group. Remember, their mission is not to be tour guides. Generous compensation for the valuable time they spend with your group hosting and coordinating schedules would be most appropriate.

Hope this is useful. 

Bob

The God-given desire to relieve suffering and come to the aid of victims of hardship should certainly be affirmed and encouraged.  But to care well requires preparation.  Learning precedes effective helping.  And integrity simply must direct our marketing.  Just like unscrupulous harmonica hype can make an innocent boy feel ripped off, so over-promised impact of service projects may disillusion enthusiastic young hearts.  Mission trips, rightly promoted and structured, can be some of our best training ground for a lifetime of effective service.   

The need for food is forever with us.  Every couple hours our body reminds us.  Ignore the need and our stomachs begin to growl an audible dissatisfaction.  From the time we enter the world, that need dominates our lives – and our parents’ lives who must schedule their sleep around it.  Mothers all over the world spend generous portions of their days preparing food for their families. It’s fundamental to life.

Given that food is such a priority, why then did such a huge number of curiosity seekers stream out into the remote countryside – without packing lunches – to see a Galilean rabbi rumored to be a miracle-worker?  Some said he was the long-awaited messiah.  And if that proved to be true, he would be even greater than Moses who provided free food for the entire Jewish nation for forty years.  And, sure enough, to every ones’ delight, the miracle-working rabbi came through.  He took the sack lunch of a little boy (whose practical mother had planned ahead) and multiplied it before the on-looking crowd.  It was a picnic the likes of which no one had ever witnessed before.  They all ate until they were stuffed and still there were mounds of leftovers.

The following day the crowds showed up again – city people from Capernaum and boatloads of folk that ferried in from across the lake.  The word was out.  This could be it – the leader they had long awaited!  Greater even than Moses!  The constant stress of securing daily bread might be relieved at last.  They pressed in around him, listening patiently to his message, watching as he laid hands on some sick people, waiting with intense curiosity to see how he would produce the day’s supply of food.  But when food was not forthcoming, the people started to become impatient.

“You’re not following me because you believe my message or even because of the miracles I do,” Jesus turned and faced them.  “You’re just wanting another free lunch.”

“Do a miracle like Moses did –free food for everyone,” the crowd retorted.  “That’s how you can prove you’re the one sent from God.”

But as soon as it became apparent that the miracle-worker was not going to supply any more food, the people became indifferent to his message.  He could give them true bread from heaven that would satisfy their hunger permanently, he told them.  A few were curious enough to inquire how to obtain that bread but when he tried to explain that he was that bread, they turned and walked away.

Sound familiar?   A similar scenario plays out on downtown Atlanta street corners when a van full of volunteers pulls up with free sandwiches to distribute.  Hoards of homeless people suddenly emerge from alleyways and bridges, hands outstretched for whatever their benefactors are passing out.  Are they interested in the bread of life?  Try gathering them with a Gospel message from a bullhorn instead of a sandwich.  Who wouldn’t choose dependency on a predictable, visible source of food over an elusive faith walk that offers no immediate, tangible guarantees?  A sandwich in hand will win out every time over a give-us-this-day-our-daily-bread faith-prayer.

So why did the miracle-working rabbi feed the crowd in the first place?  Compassion?  A heart-response to hungry people is certainly a divine impulse.  Heart-responses don’t examine recipients’ motivations or project future outcomes.  They see a need and take immediate action, no questions asked.  But the kingdom this radical young rabbi was introducing was about far more than heart-responses.  It was about heart-change.  And feeding the multitudes was clearly not the most effective method to achieve heart-change.  His disciples who executed the food distribution would learn that lesson the very next day.

Heart-responses produce distinctly different behavior patterns than do heart-changes.  Continual heart-responses yield diminishing returns: 

feed a person once and it elicits appreciation (oh, thank you so much);

feed him twice and it creates anticipation (wonder if he’s going to do it again);

feed him three times and it creates expectation (when is he going to do it);

feed him four times and it becomes an entitlement (I need it now);

feed him five times and it produces dependency (you can’t stop, I’m counting on it).

Heart-change, however, moves one in a very different direction.  Reliance upon God increases.  Dependence on God for daily bread – for body as well as soul – becomes integral to one’s faith journey.  Giving to others takes precedence over getting for oneself.  Sharing replaces hoarding.  Community increases.  Isolation diminishes.  These were the values that the young rabbi wanted the people to understand and embrace.  It became quite clear to his disciples that a free food distribution program would not be the preferred method for ushering in this new kingdom.  Should it not be as obvious to us?

The church was justifiably proud of its community food pantry.  It had grown over the years from a closet in the church basement to a spacious, well-run distribution center with its own separate building adjacent to the church.  It looked more like a small grocery store than a “pantry” with rows of neatly stocked shelves, bins for fresh produce, even a cooler for perishables.  A state-of-the-art computer system kept track of inventory, recorded donor contributions, monitored distributions and the recipients who received them, and maintained good financial records.  Because it was so well run, local grocery stores and bakeries felt good about donating their surplus and outdated food.  Other churches contributed as well.

It was still called “the pantry,” the quaint name left over from its meager beginnings when occasional bags of food were given out by the pastor.  But it had evolved into a full-fledged food distribution operation run more like a business than a basement charity.  It had a full-time director, a part-time bookkeeper and several dozen regular volunteers.  It was now open four days a week and served growing numbers of needy beneficiaries that streamed in from all over the county.  School counselors and agency caseworkers referred clients needing emergency assistance.  The “pantry” had become widely known as an important player in the city’s social safety-net.   As I said, the church was justifiably proud of the ministry of its community food pantry.

Then one day a church member handed the pastor a book – Toxic Charity!  It made the case that give-away programs hurt the poor more than they helped, that a crisis response to a chronic need creates dependency, that doing for others what they have the capacity to do for themselves destroys a work ethic.  Needless to say, it was a very disturbing read.  It called into question the validity of their best community ministry.  If it were true, that give-away programs are hurtful, the entire structure of the “pantry” would have to be dismantled.  And not just the “pantry” – much of their service outreach and mission trips would have to be revamped as well!  This is not the kind of disruption a busy pastor needs.

What to do?   Dismiss the book and hope it doesn’t get circulated among the membership?  Build a biblical argument to discredit and neutralize the premise of the book?  Admit that every ministry has its flaws but that’s no reason to stop doing it?  Or…

Perish the thought of changing the entire ministry paradigm.  How could you tell all your volunteers that their countless hours of selfless service were unhelpful, even hurtful?  How would you inform all the generous donors that the food they provided had harmful effects?  What would you say to the families and agencies who count on your service?  No, there is no way a pastor is going to do that.  The fallout would be disastrous.  But…

Isn’t community service to be about helping the needy, not just making church members feel good?  And if, as that darn book says, the way the church is doing service actually harms those they are attempting to help, then the program is clearly self-serving.  Not intentionally, but in reality it may be more about the church’s self-interest than about those being served.  Yes, Toxic Charity was indeed a very disturbing read.

If the church is going to have integrity, it cannot bury its head in the sand and assume that all is well – not after the alarm has sounded.  Leaders must at least take an honest look at the outcomes of its charity.  Is there really unintended harm being done?  A few discrete, non-disruptive interviews with “pantry” workers might give some clues.  Questions like:  how often do you see the same people in the food lines?  And how many reports do you get back from recipients that the free food has helped them over a temporary tough spot?  And does the “pantry” seem to encourage trusting relationships or do we have to be on guard against abuse of the system?  A few questions like this will provide a bit of insight into whether the program is actually empowering recipients or fostering unhealthy dependency.  Reassuring answers may put the issue to rest.  Or…

Or they may raise more questions.  Questions like:  Why are there so few anecdotal success stories?  Or why are recipients not becoming involved in the life of the church?  Or why do the “pantry” workers seem somewhat defensive about the inquiries?  Probe a little deeper and it may become apparent that, as that book claims, the whole well-run, give-away program reeks with hidden toxicities – dependency, deception, dignity-depreciation.  That’s when the real problem arises – how to fix a ministry that most folk don’t think is broken?

Changing an institution that is heavily vested in “the way we have always done it” is a major challenge, especially for a pastor whose job it is to keep that institution growing and keep the members reasonably happy.  The last thing a leader wants is to stir up divisive controversy that could alienate good and faithful members.  But a spiritual leader must also have integrity.  So if it becomes apparent that change is necessary to ensure responsible care for the poor, there is no alternative but to act.  But how?

Certainly not a frontal assault.  Too much damage could be inflicted on the “compassion corps” by declaring their good works toxic.  A much subtler change strategy is needed.  Distributing copies of Toxic Charity to key leadership (perhaps covertly) will stimulate considerable discussion.  Such conversations begin working the soil.  Visiting a few innovative models – best practices – being implemented elsewhere by other ministries helps to move the discussion from critique to creativity.  Encourage a few key leaders to attend the Christian Community Development Association (CCDA.org) annual conference, a gathering of practitioner thought-leaders committed to assisting ministries to empower the poor.  That will definitely till up some soil.  It is not at all unlikely that, through a non-confrontational exploration process, interest in new methods of service will be kindled.  A food co-op “buying club” model, a bartering system, a thrift store with deeply discounted basics – such ideas that have succeeded in other places can ignite the imagination, especially of entrepreneurial types.

Adding a new, complementary program is far less volatile than attempting to dismantle and replace an existing one.  The “pantry” stays.  At least for a time.  But alongside it you may chose to offer recipients the option to join a “buying club” co-op in which members pay $3 bi-weekly and receive back ten to twenty times that amount in groceries.  Members, like share holders, have the pride of ownership, control of food selection, and accountability to each other.  Dignity replaces beggary, belonging replaces impersonal food lines.  Like one church discovered, as co-op membership increased food lines dwindled until eventually almost no free food was distributed.  It’s one idea.  The point is this:  transition from “doing for” the poor to “doing with” them need not be disruptive or alienating.  It begins with one decisive step in the right direction.

The “pantry” may continue to function for years to come but the shift to empowerment has begun.  A door has been opened that allows church members and recipients alike to experience first-hand the differences between the pridelessness of one-way charity and the dignity of reciprocal exchange.  Outcomes will eventually become obvious.  Once empowerment principles take root and spread beyond the “pantry” to other areas of ministry – benevolence giving, service projects, mission trips – a paradigm of development will become the new norm.

I had done my best to explain to a church group the difference between serving and partnering. I had described how developing the poor requires an entirely different strategy from traditional service methods that “do for” those in need. I explained that when you do for people what they have the capacity to do for themselves you actually weaken rather than strengthen them. I gave practical examples of how lending and investing, how sharing technological knowledge and connecting isolated people with new markets, enabled whole villages to emerge from poverty. I told them that if we measured actual outcomes rather than merely activities we would have a much better gauge for the effectiveness of our missions.

Then it was Q & A time. “I see what you are saying about developing the poor,” the first pushback came, “but how do you bring the Gospel into this?” I understood the question. It came from the familiar evangelical premise that the most loving thing we can do for the poor (for anyone) is to share the Gospel with them. The soul is eternal while the body is only temporal. Eternal salvation, then, is the primary concern to God. Evangelism, not economic development, should be the primary task of missions. Right?

It was an honest question, one that deserved a reasoned response.

Four decades of living among marginalized people has expanded my early understanding of the Gospel. The Good News, I have come to believe, is about more than individual salvation. It includes personal salvation, to be sure, but it also involves the transformation of fragmented communities, of unjust institutions, of oppressive systems. The Gospel is Good News for the whole of creation. Even the environment. It is about Shalom, well-being, a prevailing peace.

There may be good reason why the Great Commission to “preach the Gospel to every nation” was preceded by the earlier (and much ignored) New Command “to love each other as I have loved you.” This prior command – Christ’s parting words on His last night with His disciples – would be the validating evidence of His divinity and the identifying mark of His followers. Without this visible demonstration of self-sacrificing unity, Christ’s deity as well as the authenticity of those who claim to follow Him would be questionable. This is more than rhetoric. Dis-unity actually eviscerates the power of the message. I see the Gospel undermined by aggressive evangelizers who blitz inner-city neighborhoods, collecting decision cards, never bothering to meet, even acknowledge, the saints who populate these very streets. I see affluent (naïve though very sincere) young people who fly into impoverished lands to “lead the lost to Christ” never imagining that God may be already powerfully at work among His destitute people. I see how denominations set up competing congregations in the same villages that promote member loyalty by devaluing, even “un-christianizing,” other groups of believers. Evangelism that does not flow from the New Command may actually do more to thwart the purposes of the Kingdom than to advance it.

And so, my response to the inquirer? Step one: identify the saints – all the saints, not just those of my political persuasion or theological stripe – and discover how God is at work in their lives. What I will likely discover is that the body of Christ is already embedded within most cultures, badly broken perhaps, but clearly present. Pentecostals judging Baptists, Evangelicals de-christianizing Catholics, believers split along doctrinal and political fault lines. To plant a new church would fragment them all the more. The best Good News for a fractured society is the Great Command (love God and neighbor) championed by serious devotees to the New Command (love each other). The Great Commission (proclamation) is a predictable outcome, a by-product, not an end in itself. Skipping over the two bed-rock Commands on the way to fulfilling the Great Commission is like erecting houses without foundations.

Thus, Christian community development work begins where people are, with their felt needs, the issues of greatest concern to the whole village – like clean drinking water, for example. A well may be a real need but it could be quite expensive and very labor intensive. It would involve more than merely drilling a hole in the ground. An adequate aqueduct system to serve 250 homes scattered across many acres would require a pumping station, a water tower, thousands of meters of pipe. The community must decide if this indeed is their top priority. If it is, community development wisdom requires that local residents be first investors with cash, not just labor. That means fundraisers and family contributions. A water commission must be formed to manage both water flow and cash flow. A project management team must be assembled. There are trenches to dig, pipes to lay, materials to be stored and guarded, food to prepare. It is a project that requires the participation of every household who wishes to have fresh water flowing to their home. And, of course, nearly everyone does. In the process neighbors join hands across barriers that have divided them, perhaps for generations. Labels are set aside as needed talents are identified and put to use. Devout church-goers and neighbors with no expressed faith sweat together in the sweltering sun and take breaks together under the shade of mango trees. It is an important community development project that greatly improves the quality of life of the village, and increases the skills and leadership capacities of villagers. But it is more. It is a unifying effort that brings estranged believers into relationship with each other.

It happened just this way in rural Nicaragua. When villagers observed their neighbor Anita, a Catholic and outspoken member of the Sandinista socialist party, working closely with Don Blas, an elder Baptist pastor and loyal member of the conservative party, eyebrows raised. Two saints, staunch political adversaries, separated by theologies that view the other as heretics, teamed up to bring water to their village – it was enough to stir curiosity in the conversations of their community. But when neighbors saw their relationship deepen and smiles and hugs of genuine affection exchange between the two, hearts were melted. “By this shall all men know that you are my disciples…” When the followers of Jesus set aside differences, even deeply held ones, to demonstrate care for their neighbors (like providing water), such behaviors become visible. “Father, make them one so that the world will know that you sent me…” When the followers of Jesus yield not only personal preferences but suspend deeply held convictions in deference to one another, a witness of powerful impact is unleashed.

And so to my questioner who asks “How do you bring the Gospel into this work?” I answer: begin with the fundamentals. The great command and the new command will take you where you need to go. As St. Francis of Assisi said, “Preach the gospel and use words when necessary.”