On Eggs in Rwanda

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A Blessing Machine

In my last post, I mentioned the idea that truth is truth regardless of who says it and why, an idea which is quite powerful and carries some significant implications for how I approach the world. This relates quite strongly to another characteristic of truth which I rediscovered tonight: when you stumble upon truth, whether by design or by accident, it will punch you in the face. By this I mean that when you happen upon truth, you won't be able to miss it or ignore it. Truth has this funny habit of making itself known.

One of the topics I've written on again and again in this space is my consistent frustration with what the word Christianity means in the 21st Century, and with what church has become in this era. I'm sure you've read and heard and witnessed many of the same things that I have...churches condemning the entirety of the gay community in a debate over what the word marriage means, religious leaders acting as though Jesus wants us to vote for one political party over another, and so on. I don't want to bore you with examples. Available by request, I'll say.

Awareness

This morning I visited a new church in my search for a new community, a new place to call home. It was what you might call a coffee church, and I really enjoyed the atmosphere and the people I met. Even better, the pastor spoke on something I've been thinking about a lot lately: the fact that if we truly believe what we claim to believe, we must step out into the communities around us and make an impact. If we're not making an impact on the people and places around us, we're simply not living the way we're meant to live.

Unfortunately, figuring out exactly what this means is far more difficult than I ever used to imagine, at least at first glance. If it is our purpose to give, to serve and to love those around us, how do we discern and respond to that calling? No two people are called in precisely the same way, just as no two parents will ever agree on whose child is more special. To think and to act otherwise is simply an exercise in beating your head against a wall.

Coming Clean

I've never been to Africa.

There, I said it. Not that I'm ashamed of it. In fact, I'm actually rather proud of it. (Proud might not be the best word, but its the best word I can think of for anti-shame. Satisfied, maybe? I'm sure you know what I mean.) I bring this up because of a question I was asked recently by someone interested in many of the same things I am, if not more so.

Let me provide a little bit of context. In April, I wrote a piece arguing that TOMS shoes and the perpetual phenomenon of in-kind donations are more harmful than they are helpful, and are ideas that the giving community should seriously reconsider. There's a lot more to it than that, but you can read the piece yourself if you're interested. Through a series of events and links and whatnot, that post exploded (both relatively and metaphorically speaking). In mid-July, I was approached by the editor of a soon-to-be-launched magazine focusing on localized innovation throughout the world who thought that my piece would be a good fit for the magazine.

Motives and Outcomes

I spent a little bit of time this morning thinking about the things I have written about in the past, and in the process I began to notice something. Over and over again, the things I have gotten passionate about enough to write about have had a similar theme: the overwhelming importance of outcomes and the (relative) irrelevance of motives.

What I mean by that is this: it seems that in many situations in life and in this world, we give credit or support based solely off of the motives of people involved. If someone has good intentions, often that is enough for us to write them in as good and worth supporting, irregardless of the outcome of their endeavor or pursuit.

A Fractured Sense of Community

I am the kind of person who can handle being alone; I do my best thinking in solitary places absent of noise and distraction. However, I find that my purest joy comes from interaction with other people. There is something beautiful about sitting down with a close friend, sharing a cold drink and enjoying each other’s company. I love people, more often than not. Sure, there are knuckleheads and those who give me headaches, but in general I greatly enjoy people. Pick a topic, approach ten different people, and be amazed at the diversity of response. The uniqueness contained within human beings is fascinating and an exciting thing to see. Always keeps me on my toes. I never feel as complete as I do when I am in the presence of people I love and who love me. Even though I can function well in a solitary state, I am at my best with others.

My problem is one of community. Because I spend eight months of the year in one city and the other four back home, I have become used to a fractured sense of community. By jumping from one town to another and back again, I experience difficulty in plugging in with any church groups, service projects or communities. Yes, the community that we created abroad was and is fantastic. Yes, I greatly treasure the friendships from high school and from home that I have been able to maintain. Yes, my dorm community is greatly important to me. The problem is this: by being a part of so many communities, how do I give myself completely to any of them?

A perfect example is my home church, the Vineyard in Colerain, Ohio. The community of young adults contained within the church is strong, vibrant and something I want to be a part of. I have become very good friends with a number of the individuals in that community and I would not trade their friendships for anything. These are people I can discuss anything with, from problems with the church to what kind of bear is best. Sure, we disagree from time to time, but the conversation would never take place without the friendship we share. Unfortunately, I am only home for a few months of the year. When I come back for the summer, stepping into the Thursday night young adult small group blind seems somewhat unappealing. Yes, I know a good portion of the individuals in the group, and I know they would welcome me with open arms. Many have even expressed as much, and I greatly appreciate their openness, kindness and friendship. But I cannot give myself fully to the group, as a mere three months later I will be heading north again. I feel as if my temporary attendance shows a lack of commitment to the community, and that is a stigma I do not want attached to myself. Better not to show up at all than to do so with one foot out the door.

This idea of temporary commitment to a community influences the way I approach service as well. Because I am not in one place all year round, I am unable to make a full year’s worth of service impact; instead, I must settle for a “I am here for a month, but then I’ll be gone again” mentality. Thing is, I refuse to settle for that. I believe that service is more than ladling split pea in a soup kitchen. Yes, the soup kitchen has its place and is necessary, but if your “service” entails filling up bowls and nothing else, what kind of lasting impact are you making?

The kind of service I am drawn to is one of relationship building, personal impact and growth. I want to tutor an underprivileged child so that they might have a real chance at future success. I want to act as a big brother to someone who might have lost their father. I want to be in a place where the lonely might be able to look at me and know that someone cares about them. But if I only show up for a few months at a time and then disappear, will they really think I care, or will they think that I’m just fulfilling my quota of service? Am I serving for their sake, or for my own?

I long for the day when I am in a single place, settled in a city that I can devote myself to. I cannot wait to be able to join a community and be able to give it my complete attention. It would bring me great joy to be a real part of a church, rather than just a visitor passing through. My heart lingers for when I have both the time and capacity to devote twelve months of the year to serve a single community that needs to be loved. I want to be able to serve, to give of myself. But I refuse to do it half-heartedly. If I say I am going to serve, it will be with every ounce of my being. Until I am able to do that, I will wait.

And so on...