ONE MAN CANNOT LIFT A HOUSE

This article was originally published by IDENTITY
Nov. 15, 2011
by Palmer Chinchen

One man cannot lift a house. That’s what Malawians say when they are ready to build a new nyumba (home) for their family. They rally the people of they village to come together to make mud bricks. The clay (dothi) is dug from a damp pit near the swamp and carried in brick-shaped wooden hoppers from the pit to the home site, where the clay will dry before being stacked into a kiln and fired. The hoppers are toted with a jog, so the mud will settle and form a solid brick. It’s back breaking, exhausting. One man can make a few dozen mud bricks, but thousands are needed. It would take him weeks, on his own. Physically he is unable, One man cannot lift a house. But when the community responds, they will do it in a day.

And everyone knows, when it’s time to build their home, they will remind him, one man cannot lift a house. And he will come, he will carry mud for them too.

I’ve spent about half my life in Africa, and that’s one of my favorite things Malawians do. They never leave a man to build his home alone, but together -- out of the mire and clay -- they lift a house.

On this side of the Atlantic we don’t think much about needing the village, because we try to do it alone.
. . .

One of my great passions is to see an end to extreme poverty. It sounds audacious, but I think it was Jeffry Sachs’ writing that first convinced me it can be done.

Sachs, Professor of Sustainable Development at Columbia University (The End of Poverty), says by the year 2025 we can end extreme poverty. Some call Sachs the smartest man in the world – I think they’re right. He has used his “shock economics” to turn fledging economies around.1 And he‘s convinced that if affluent nations and people pool their resources -- and it only takes one percent of our wealth -- we can end the plight of the poorest of the poor.

The effort, however, must be massive and concentrated.
. . .

As we talk about ending extreme poverty, I would advocate that we point our attention toward Africa, and here’s the reason.

Bono has famously said, “There is a continent—Africa—being consumed by flames. When the history books are written this generation will be known for the Internet, the war on terror and what we did—or did not do—to put the fire out in Africa. We must engage as individuals and communities to confront these issues.”2

Bono is right, the world’s landscape is peppered with dire places and people, but the most desperate are in Africa.

I was doing an interview with a radio station in Ohio when the host opened it up to callers. As soon as he did a man phoned in and said, “I’m calling to say I disagree with you Palmer. I don’t think people need to go to places like Africa to meet the needs of this world, we have enough problems right here in Ohio.”

“Really?” I asked, with skepticisms heavy in my voice. “In Ohio are women chain to trees and sold into slavery, because that’s what happening in Sudan? In Ohio do starving parents trade their toddlers for a bag of maize in the dry season, because that’s what’s happening in Malawi? In Ohio are eight-year-old boys forced to carry guns and kill their own families, because that’s what’s happening in Uganda? In Ohio do babies die every thirty seconds from malaria, because that’s what happening across the continent of Africa?

The fires are burning in Africa, that’s the reason our passions, abilities, and resources must be poured out there.

I believe the reason we have been unable to put out the fires in Africa is because we haven’t fought them with enough fire hoses. If your house is burning, one hose will not put the fire out. But what if you doused the flames with a hundred hoses?

That’s why we must collaborate, and make our efforts massive and concentrated.

And we don’t have to give or do enough to make poor countries or poor people rich; we simply have to do enough to help them get their foot on the first rung of the economic ladder. When countries get their foot on the ladder of development they generally are able to climb upwards. But if a country or person is trapped below the ladder and the first rung is too high off the ground, they can’t even get started.
. . .

And here’s where it begins, with individuals giving their their lives away to change what’s broken in this world. It starts with one farmer in Ohio show a farmer in Malawi how to irrigate more effectively. It starts with churches, and circle-of-friends, and communities adopting one village to give them clean water. It starts with countries caring about other countries and putting medical facilities in every region.

It starts with one person.

That one person is you.

COLLABORATE AND SHARE
My challenge to the church – Christians everywhere – is to collaborate and share. When we begin to pool our resources, and abilities, and passion we can make right what is wrong in this world.

Share Everything
In Robert Fulghum’s memorable essay, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, he makes a list of all the life-long lessons he learned in kindergarten. My favorite lesson on his list is, Share Everything.

In the Bible, Luke writes of a moment when a frustrated man approaches Jesus and pleads, “Jesus, tell my bother to share with me!” 4 In response Jesus tells this story: A man has a huge harvest, more than he will ever be able to eat. In fact, he probably has enough to last the rest of his life. But instead of sharing, he builds bigger barns. He doesn’t need it and still he won’t share it! And then something highly unexpected happens… he dies.

Jesus’ point is, share! Share everything. It’s just stuff.

I don’t know what it is for you that God is telling you to share, but you know. We all know.

Share What You do Best
God gifts each of us with unique and beautiful passions and abilities. Use them for God.

I was recently in Malawi with Steve, a US Airways pilot from my church. He led our team that spent two weeks loving orphans of AIDS. Steve brought stacks of Xerox paper. In every village where they cared for children, Steve spent his time teaching kids how to build and fly paper airplanes. Share what you do best.

Dustin is twenty-four and repairs motorcycles for a living. So when I was recruiting dirt-bikers to ride the jungle trails of Liberia to give away 2,000 pairs of shoes -- that people of The Grove left behind on our Barefoot Sunday -- I called Dustin first. He said yes in a heartbeat. Last summer Dustin and nine others, spent two weeks sloshing down muddy trails on dirt-bikes, in the middle of rainy season, to give shoes away to people recovering from a devastating civil war. Share what you do best.

Jack is an architect in Phoenix. Sometimes he draws churches. When I told Jack I was heading to Haiti with a team to rebuild a pastor’s house and church, after the earthquake, he said, “I’ll draw the building plans for you.” “Ah, that would be great Jack,” I answered, “but I’m sorry to say we don’t have money to pay an architect.”

“No Palmer, I’m not asking to be paid, I want to make my drawings a gift to the people of Haiti,” Jack explained. But Jack didn’t want to draw the buildings in Phoenix, he said he needed to meet the Pastor and hear from his people. So Jack flew to Haiti with us and sat under tarps on Bellevue de Montagne listening to the dreams of a people hoping to put their country back together again. Now, with Jack’s drawings in hand, we start building their dreams this Christmas. Share what you do best.

I think your life shines brightest when you are sharing what you do best.

Share Your Life
Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If any of you wants to be my follower… take up your cross, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it.” 5

That’s the really hard one, sharing your life. But that’s the call of the Christ follower. He wants more than “belief,” more than a “decision.” He wants more than your money – sometimes giving money gets us off the hook -- or your things… He wants your life.

On this side of the Atlantic, we are a blessed people. Like the man who built barns, we have a lot, we know a lot, we can do a lot. And when that’s the case, the God of the Bible says, Turn your blessing into a blessing for others. That’s how he said it Abraham, “I will bless you… and you will be a blessing… and all people on earth will be blessed through you.” 6

God said that to Abraham, now he says that to you… because one man cannot lift a house.

Notes:
1. Jeffery Sachs The End of Poverty. New York. Penguin Press. 2005.
2. Bono, quoted by Scott Morrison (speech, Parliament, London, England, February 14, 2008).
3. Mark 2:1-12
4. Luke 12
5. Matthew 16:24-26
6. Genesis 12:2-3

GENERATION JUSTICE

This article was originally published in NEXT-WAVE, July 18, 2011.
by Palmer Chinchen

I have a name for this generation.

No one’s been quite sure what to call the emerging generation. Some call them the Millennials, or Generation Next (that’s makes no sense, every generation is the next), Generation Y, Generation 13, Generation I, Generation Digital Natives… but none of these labels say what this generation is most about… Justice. They are. And that’s why we need to start calling this generation of 18 to 28 year-olds by a new name, Generation Justice.

I know this is true because I’ve watched how they live. They are most about pursuing justice for the marginalized and being a voice for the silenced and oppressed. They want to repair this world and make it beautiful like Eden. They live out the mercy of God.

The contrast to prior generations is striking. I went through college with the Yuppie Generation. We were a self-indulgent lot. Everyone wanted to drive a Beemer, wearing a Member’s Only jacket — with the collar popped on their pastel Izod.

Not this generation. They wear Tom’s shoes because Tom puts shoes on bare feet in places like Bolivia. They’ve made scooters cool again because you can ride a hundred miles on a gallon of gas. They embrace simplicity because they want to share more with people who have less. That’s the heartbeat of Generation Justice.

I say that with confidence because of twenty-something year-olds like Jennifer Preyss. Jennifer is a young, energetic reporter for the Victoria Advocate; Texas’ oldest newspaper. Last year Jennifer traveled to Malawi, Africa and spent several weeks loving and caring for orphans.

In October — still bothered by the extreme poverty and the lack of simple basic needs like shoes — Jennifer read about The Grove’s Barefoot Sunday. She was captivated, compelled, and certain God wanted her to hold a Barefoot Sunday in Victoria, Texas — then send the shoes to children in Malawi. Jennifer says she “stalked” me on Facebook until I answered. Her urgent plea read something like, “Palmer, I want to hold a Barefoot Sunday for the entire city of Victoria! Can you help me?”

It sounded audacious. I told her I would do my best. But her plans seemed lofty, and South Texas was a long way from Chandler, Arizona. I was a skeptic.

Jennifer kept working. Her passion was infectious. Three more reporters in their early twenties joined her cause. A date was set, February 27th. A goal was established, 1,000 pairs of shoes.

When I showed up in Victoria, the night of their Barefoot Sunday, I saw how Jennifer had inspired a city. She and her team had rallied participation from 20 churches, 4 schools, 2 colleges, and a Synagogue. An entire class of second graders insisted on going barefoot when they took their shoes off for Africa. The reporters drove around the city picking up piles of shoes in newspaper delivery trucks… after their deliveries.

On Barefoot Sunday Jennifer ended up with a mountain of more than 5,000 pairs of shoes to send to Africa.

Right now Generation Justice is flooding the U.S. Government office for Nonprofits with applications. Their aim is not to grow massive aid or charity organizations. They are far more organic than that. They are simply living their passions. They are responding to the needs of desperate people that grip their heart. A recent report on volunteering in America reveals that this generation has fueled a national spike in volunteers, “Led by teens and young adults accounting for almost half the increase, about a million more people volunteered last year.”1

Every time I visit my son at college I’m reminded of the pervasive mercy spirit of Generation Justice. The walls of every hallway are littered with posters promoting the students’ causes. Students recently held a Live on a dollar a day week. They erected cardboard shacks in the middle of campus and slept there for a week to champion the need to end extreme poverty. The last time I was there it was Barefoot Friday, because students were giving their shoes away. A sophomore named Christian has founded Beacon of Light. On Wednesdays at 5 o’clock her student volunteers crowd into her cramped dormitory kitchen to make piles of pb&j sandwiches. Then load into cars, drive downtown, and give the sandwiches away to men and women who live hungry on the streets of San Diego.

Something very spiritual is happening.

Generation Justice has taken to heart Jesus’ kingdom-cry to feed the hungry, give clean water to the thirsty, put clothes on the naked (and shoes on the barefeet), and care for the sick — and end the pandemics.

Salad Days

Developmental psychologists refer to these years (18-28) as the critical years. Because The most important things we do with our lives are often determined by the choices we make, the values we form, the decisions we follow, the affections we develop, the allegiances we create during the critical years.

Shakespeare, Saturday Night Live writers, and Wheaton College students call them the Salad Days. These are the best days; the days in which we grow and flourish and thrive.

In the critical years you hold life by the tail. The world is yours for the taking. The doors are all open. You may live in any city you choose. You can take any career path you like. You can marry whoever you like… well, not really – but you get my point.

So much of who we you are is defined in those few developmentally important years. Think about your parents for a moment and the music they listen to. I can bet cash money it’s not Lil-Wayne or Usher. Your mom is still playing her Michael Bolton cassettes and your dad’s waiting for Kiss’s reunion tour.

In her seminal work on this formative life-stage, The Critical Years, Sharon Parks writes about the motion of faith. She argues that this period is a unique and identifiable developmental stage. Parks writes, “A Central strength of the young adult is the capacity to respond to visions of the world as it might become. This is the time in every generation for renewal of the human vision.”2

While at Harvard, Lawrence Kohlberg (considered the preeminent thinker on moral development) once taught a course on moral choice. Ethicists, who studied the effect the course had on students moral reasoning, reported that these young adults sense “a deep obligation to relieve human misery and suffering if possible.”3

This is why Jason Russel, Bobby Bailey, and Laren Poole founded Invisible Children. These three aspiring film-makers, in their early twenties, traveled to northern Uganda because they were disturbed by the atrocities taking place in Dufar, Sudan.

While looking for a way across the border they found themselves in the middle of a human tragedy. Thousands of children who feared being abducted by Joseph Kony’s Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), to fight as child soldiers, were walking miles and miles every night from their rural villages to seek refuge in the towns of Gulu and Lira. The concrete floors of bus depots and hospital basements became their beds.

The three friends couldn’t believe what they were witnessing; literally, a flood of children filling the towns every night. Why hadn’t anyone told them? Why was the world silent?

They began to film the atrocity, produced a documentary, founded an organization, met with government officials, and called the world’s attention to the tragedy in northern Uganda. People, churches, schools, and governments have responded. The tide has turned. Kony is on the run. Children near Gulu are again sleeping in their own beds at night.

Do you see why I say it’s Generation Justice that is leading the charge to rescue children in places like Uganda — places like hell on earth?

The Rest of the Gospel

From my vantage, the Americanized version of the gospel is incomplete. We’ve focused our attention on an intellectual relationship with God, and for the most part we’ve neglected his call to live out this gospel of the kingdom – show mercy, pursue justice, love the marginalized, and free the oppressed.

I fully realize that it is good and necessary to have a mind after God. I have a PhD, I get it. But simply knowing your systematic theology doesn’t do it. Jesus flat out told the Pharisees they had no clothes. He was fed up with their pseudo-religious intellectual piety.

I think it’s the trophy hunters in Africa that got me.

I’ve spent about half my life in Africa and I can’t tell you how disenchanted I’ve become with the trophy hunting preachers. They come from churches and mission organizations to preach in villages and ask for a raising of the hands. Then they return to their country exclaiming a count of how many souls were saved.

Really?

They’ve missed it. They’ve missed the rest of the gospel! They miss the part when Jesus says, “care for them, feed them, love them, free them.” They never ask about the babies dying of malaria, why the stomachs of the malnourished swell, or who will care for the toddlers orphaned by aids.

They came to take a trophy, not to bring a kingdom.

But Generation Justice has heard the cry of the ancients like Micah and Amos and Isaiah, and they’ve started to live out the words of Jesus.

And they have begun to bring Christ’s kingdom to earth, just as it is in heaven.

That’s why as I type this sentence, eighteen year-old Allie Cestmat is in Malawi going village to village, with our team from The Grove, putting 8,000 pairs of shoes — from places like Victoria — on bare feet in Africa.

Citations:

1. Mark Hrywna, Young Adults Fueled Spike in Volunteers. Non Profit Times, July 29, 2009. Accessed at http://calservenetwork.blogspot.com/2009/07/young-adults-fueled-spike-in-volunteers.html

2. Sharon Parks, The Critical Years (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1986), 30.

3. Carol Gilligan, Moral Development: In the Modern American College. (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1981), 139, as quoted in Parks, 105.

I JUST WANT TO SAY THANK-YOU

Wow.

I am so humbled and impressed by the heart of everyone at The Grove.


This past Sunday, Mother's Day, is a Sunday I'll never forget.

If you were present, you already know that at the end of each service we invited people to walk up on stage on Mother's Day and take home the picture of a child who had no mother, and sponsor them; kids from Haiti, Liberia, and Malawi.

We hung a hundred profiles over the stage. We had received 132 profiles but I thought if we had 100 kids sponsored in one day, that would be amazing; and to be honest I wasn't quite sure 132 kids could be sponsored in one day, so we left 32 kids in a box... plus we ran out of room on our wire clothes lines.

At the close of the 8:00 service 28 kids were taken home on Mother's Day. We were all thrilled. I was hopeful, I thought maybe by the end of the third service they might all find a home.

But when we invited people up during the 9:30 service the stage was flooded. It seemed like every family present came to take a child home. When the stage cleared 70 more kids were sponsored! Just 2 profiles sill hung... they looked lonely.

Eric must have thought the same thing, because he ran down the aisle from the back row, jumped on stage, and grabbed the last two.

I loved the applause.

Fortunately (due to my lack of faith!) we still had 32 profiles left to hang for the third service. Those were gone in a heartbeat.

Thank you. I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

Thank you for the sacrifice you will make every month to help feed these kids.

Thank you for loving a child on Mother's Day who has no mother.

Jesus' brother James said, "True Religion is to love widows and orphans." Thank you for living that way. Your religion really is true.

Grateful,
Palmer