lessons from america's pastime

I love sports. The excitement, the emotion, the drama. Pretty much any sport will do it for me, though I do have my favorites. Baseball is probably the sport I love the most. A lot of people don't understand that. I'll readily admit that it's probably not the most exciting (football) or glamorous (basketball) sport. But it's my favorite. I fell in love with the Cubs in the early 2000s during the (too brief) Pryor-Wood era, and again in 07 and 08.

The last two years have been rough on my poor Cubbies, but I haven't lose that initial thrill. I love stats, trade rumors, Pat (not Ron) on the radio, and Len and Bob. When you follow a team for 162 games a summer, you always feel like you get to know the players and the coaches a little bit. There's a sense of camaraderie among the fans that other sports lack, too...the games are more relaxed and social. And we all share a LOT of suffering over the course of the season.

But baseball's about the long hall. It's about consistently grinding it out and being disciplined and self-motivated. Some days you bat .600 and drive in a bunch of runs. Some days you go up to the plate and strike out every time. Baseball is about a long obedience in the same direction. It's a journey, not a destination.

You can probably see were I'm going with this. Baseball is like fundraising! I've been thinking about this a lot this summer, and I'm making this comparison half in jest and half in seriousness. Fundraising requires discipline and dedication. You have to grind it out over a long period of time. You have to sell your supporters on a compelling vision (winning the World Series!) and convince them that you can make that vision reality with their help.

Batters hate to strike out. But what a lot of people don't know if they don't follow baseball is there are two different kinds of strikeouts. There's a swinging stirkeout, where the batter swing but just misses the ball and strikes out. But there's also a looking (or called) strikeout. In those, the batter doesn't swing but the pitch is called a strike and he's out anyway.

I've been learning that it's always better to take a swinging strike. Fundraising involves a lot of strikeouts. I've certainly had my fair share (more than my fair share, sometimes it feels like). But recently instead of chickening out on calls I've made them expecting rejection. And you know what? It's not that bad. It doesn't feel that bad at all. And I'm encouraged by knowing that I tried.

mark 3:7-19

Jesus withdrew with his disciples to the sea, and a great crowd followed, from Galilee and Judea and Jerusalem and Idumea and from beyond the Jordan and from around Tyre and Sidon. When the great crowd heard all that he was doing, they came to him. And he told his disciples to have a boat ready for him because of the crowd, lest they crush him, for he had healed many, so that all who had diseases pressed around him to touch him. And whenever the unclean spirits saw him, they fell down before him and cried out, “You are the Son of God.” 12 And he strictly ordered them not to make him known.

And he went up on the mountain and called to him those whom he desired, and they came to him. And he appointed twelve (whom he also named apostles) so that they might be with him and he might send them out to preach and have authority to cast out demons. He appointed the twelve: Simon (to whom he gave the name Peter); James the son of Zebedee and John the brother of James (to whom he gave the name Boanerges, that is, Sons of Thunder); Andrew, and Philip, and Bartholomew, and Matthew, and Thomas, and James the son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus, and Simon the Cananaean, and Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.

There's an image in my head of the huge crowd. People are coming to Jesus because of their desperate need. For many it's physical healing, but I imagine there are some in the crowd who are looking for spiritual healing. I identify a lot with this crowd. I feel like lately though I've been hiding on the outside of the crowd. I've come to see Jesus, but I'm not actively fighting my way through the crowd to be near him. I've got problems, but maybe he can't see me in the crowd or has some other lesson to teach me. Or maybe I'm just not trying hard enough to reach him.

Part of me feels like I should identify with the second part of the passage. I mean; I'm a missionary, right? Jesus has supposedly chosen me to teach people and preach the gospel to them. I'm supposed to have this grand sense of mountaintop calling (and I have at time!). But when I've sat at 13% for weeks; when I've heard a lot of surprising "can'ts" but no exciting "wills"; I feel more and more like someone on the fringes of the crowd.

Jesus, I'm longing for your presence. But I have to confess too that I know I'm not working for it. I can't live each day with calling and spiritual self-initiative. I'm struggling to make it through each night of phone calls and each period of discouragement.

I know you're faithful. This I believe. And I know that you have timing, and a plan, and things to teach me and make me in your image. I know that it's good and it will be worth it -- like many of the other hard times I've gone through recently. In fact, I love those times because they brought me more of you. But right now I don\'t feel that reality; I just feel like I'm struggling out here on my own.

Is it right or okay to ask for comfort and encouragement about my fundraising right now? Would you provide some? It will be in your own time and way, and this I'm glad for because the last thing you need to do is to answer the needs I feel rather than the ones I have. But you know that, don't you? That's what Malawi was all about.

partnership

Fundraising is a curious thing. There are a lot of contradictions in it; at least, that's how it seems to me now.

For example: it both is and isn't about me. It's not about me because it shouldn't be. It's about the mission of God and the ministry to the students at Carbondale. I can't make myself too important in my own eyes - too put together or perfect. When I do, I start to worry about why people won't DONATE TO ME. Or I start to get confident in my training and skills and plans and not the power of Jesus. I start to get trapped in my own narrative of what's important: staff, me, my budget, my gifts. It's not about me.

But it IS about me! The money I raise is my salary and goes to train and equip me to be on campus; it reflects my unique skills and the gifts I bring to the table. I also have numerous donors who give or will give because they like *me.* So there's that same pressure from Malawi -- to have a plan and a strategy; to be worth the financial investment people make on my behalf. To earn their approval and respect.

More and more I am reminded that humility and brokenness are the ways of Jesus. I saw clearly this semester, this summer, that all my skills and training usually end up less valuable than Jesus changing my life. When I was honest with my doubts and struggles and my relationship with God -- THOSE were the times I was a blessing.

I'm so glad God called me to Malawi. More and more I see what He did it for -- not only in the great breaking and healing He did in me there, but in the way He used it to prepare me for fundraising. I realize that I shouldn't make it overly about me. I shouldn't strive to earn God's (or donors!) approval. I shouldn't approach from a 'donor/aid' perspective but from that of a humble partner. Or servant?

Intervarsity (as much as I love it) is not the sum of God's kingdom, and I am to the tool of His mission. Ultimately this is about God's love for me. It transforms me. Friends: what people need is Jesus, and he's transforming us to be like him.