Most of us will never get the stage. Most of us will never share a newspaper headline, and frankly, wouldn’t want it. We’ll labor away in the relative obscurity of the day to day.
And right there is the magic—the day to day. Day after day of faithfulness. Day after day of giving your life away. Day after day of coming into divine encounters—if only I would see.
It’s Monday at Panera, and this scene is being repeated 1,000 times over across the country. People—some of them in a hurry, some of them steady, some of them with great cares—but all of them with stories. They have pasts full of pain and joy.
Consider it. What would happen if John 3:16 simply read, “For God so loved the world?” What if God did nothing more than love? I wonder, frankly, if the earth would have remained formless and void without substance? I wonder what would have happened if God only had good intentions?
I have wondered often about success. What is it? Why do we long for it, lose sleep and train endlessly to attain it? Is it the balance of a bank account? Is it our name in a headline? Is it awards, prizes or ribbons? Is it an achievement of some sort? Is there a measure that marks when you’ve arrived? Is there something that signifies that you are somehow a success?
For years, the gold standard in ministry effectiveness has been how much is spent on administrative costs. The arbitrary standard is that if a ministry spends 10% or less on administrative costs, then they are deemed “effective.”
Think about it: low administrative costs equals effectiveness. The theory is that if 10% or less is going to administration then 90% is going to programs or direct support. Jack Shakely wrote a compelling editorial for the LA Times (April 30, 2012) where he challenges this notion. Here’s why: in trying to reach the 10% standard, many organizations have gone to great lengths to pump up their contributions—particularly in-kind contributions—to make their administrative costs look smaller.
Wistful. It’s the only way I can describe it. She was clearly a grandmother holding her grandchild on one of those formica top tables at Panera bread. She tried to elicit a baby “coo” as grandmothers are want to do. The child was wrapped tight in one of those fuzzy warm blankets while the mother stood in line casting backward glances at grandmother and child.
And I reflected on the privilege of that grandmother—to hold her grandchild, at Panera on a cold winter day. In my own mind, I see my kids growing up, and perhaps they will end up in distant cities or even foreign lands bearing the torch of the gospel.
The Chronicle of Philanthropy reported that the non-profit world is expected to grow…by 12 million new organizations.
As the nearly 80 million Boomers head toward retirement, some become altruistic, and some need something to do. So they create non-profits and work on doing something good. Some will fund these non-profits themselves. Some will seek funding from others.
You know the story. The wise men brought gold, frankincense and myrrh to Jesus at his birth.
But why gold? Gold is the stuff of kings. It was a symbol of wealth. If you had it, you showed it off. You covered your palace with it. It was soft enough you could melt it, and make really cool things with it. It was shiny, and it caught people’s attention. Wars were fought over it. Get the gold was the motto of kings, and the object of armies. You could trade with it, and get more stuff.
Okay, okay, what kind of person wishes death at Christmas? I’m not some kind of gianormous Scrooge either. Let me explain.
Thirty-seven years ago, my father died a week before Christmas. December 18 to be precise. I still remember it like yesterday. I was in the 6th grade, school had just started, and it was one of those cloudy, grey Midwest mornings. My teacher, and the principal called me out of class. They looked grey themselves, concerned and they talked in hushed whispers.
What is the cost of Christmas? According to a Gallup Poll, Americans are expected to spend $712 million on Christmas this year.
That’s a staggering number, but nothing I’m afraid to the real cost of Christmas. Think back to the first Christmas.
