Let me give you a sneak peek: In a matter of days our new annual report will hit the shelves, and in it you'll find some of the most heart-wrenching material you've ever read—not the least of which will be the recollections of Sam Ojok's first trip outside his native Uganda.
Sam, our sustainability coordinator who cultivates community buy-in in Ugandan villages where we work, left his home country to address some of Houston's wealthiest in oil city's biggest, grandest ballroom at last September's annual gala.
But instead of expressing disgust at our hyper-consumeristic culture (the stark contrast to home I thought he'd zero in on), he responded with respect, reverence even. Spoiler alert: here's an excerpt from a soon-to-be-released article.
"The first thing I did when I got back [to Uganda] was I told everyone what a struggle people go through to raise money for our work," Sam said. "I have seen your sacrifice, and that makes us work harder to make sure our interventions are sustainable. If someone gives even $5 we will use it to bring lasting impact even 20 years from now. We are more deliberate and devoted than ever now."
Struggle? Sacrifice? I'm not sacrificing; I'm getting a paycheck.
Our entire staff met this morning and discussed our new direction to minister to the local Church—not just overseas in our focus communities, but here in the States. Instead of just partnering with affluent congregations to curry their monetary support, we want to value our partnership as something that ministers to donors just as much as it restores the lives of the thirsty. We want to see the entire Body of Christ across the nation healed—healing that comes through unity under the banner of God's merciful, just heart for the vulnerable.
It left me wondering if my co-workers and I see each other as members of the very Church body we're trying to reach.
I'm not sure I've done more than co-exist with those around me when I could be co-laboring toward consecration. Sam's quote is now taped on my wall, and just like with anything else I feel God might be revealing, I want the change to begin with me.
Sam, our sustainability coordinator who cultivates community buy-in in Ugandan villages where we work, left his home country to address some of Houston's wealthiest in oil city's biggest, grandest ballroom at last September's annual gala.
But instead of expressing disgust at our hyper-consumeristic culture (the stark contrast to home I thought he'd zero in on), he responded with respect, reverence even. Spoiler alert: here's an excerpt from a soon-to-be-released article.
"The first thing I did when I got back [to Uganda] was I told everyone what a struggle people go through to raise money for our work," Sam said. "I have seen your sacrifice, and that makes us work harder to make sure our interventions are sustainable. If someone gives even $5 we will use it to bring lasting impact even 20 years from now. We are more deliberate and devoted than ever now."
Struggle? Sacrifice? I'm not sacrificing; I'm getting a paycheck.
Our entire staff met this morning and discussed our new direction to minister to the local Church—not just overseas in our focus communities, but here in the States. Instead of just partnering with affluent congregations to curry their monetary support, we want to value our partnership as something that ministers to donors just as much as it restores the lives of the thirsty. We want to see the entire Body of Christ across the nation healed—healing that comes through unity under the banner of God's merciful, just heart for the vulnerable.
It left me wondering if my co-workers and I see each other as members of the very Church body we're trying to reach.
- Are our hearts united under the very cause we ask others to adopt every day?
- Do we see ourselves as ministers or simply administrators?
- Is our office a tabernacle and testament to God's redemption or merely a receptacle for recycled ROI?
- Are we creating a sanctuary to cultivate servant hearts?
- Can we ask the Church to sacrifice when we just punch the clock?
I'm not sure I've done more than co-exist with those around me when I could be co-laboring toward consecration. Sam's quote is now taped on my wall, and just like with anything else I feel God might be revealing, I want the change to begin with me.
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