House of Carr

I wish I was rich.

Let me unpack that before you judge me.

I was always attracted to the nobility of vocational ministry—having the privilige of making a living from the gospel. While it’s a financially humbling endeavor (I’m certainly not in this gig for the money) we’ve been never been in great financial peril at any time of our 13+ years of ministry. But lately I’ve realized a crucial fact that I’ve overlooked during my ministry: kingdom work depends on funding. In short, money makes things go. And even though we’re thoroughly blessed, there’s just never enough cash on hand.

Not to better our personal existence; as I noted, we’re more than fine. I’m talking about enough for others.

There are so many amazing ministry causes I’m aware of and very little I can do to assist. Our family commits much more than a tithe to supporting gospel efforts around the globe. And our little church is committed to the cause as well, with the first 20% of our budget going to mission works.

It absolutely rips my heart up when a missionary contacts me asking for resources so they can minister in God-forsaken places and I have to refuse. Just thinking about it makes me ill. And, for some reason, I’m getting more and more inquiries from people who are looking for support. I guess I’ve worked around CCU for too long and have met too many people.

But what about you? Maybe you’re not giving at all to causes beyond your own church community. Or maybe you’re incredibly wealthy and just stumbled on to this post by accident. Can I encourage you to give to missionaries? Let me give you a few reasons.

1. They’re not getting rich off this deal. Just because you see the pictures of the missionaries in some exotic place you’d love to vacation doesn’t mean they’re living a lifestyle above their means. Even though it’s bound to happen, I’ve never witnessed a missionary who had more than what they needed to survive. Dan Dyke, a professor at CCU, co-leads a small group with me. Last semester he told the story of a missionary who lived his entire life in poverty but continued to serve faithfully. The young men listening were convicted by the tale, as was I. If you have an expensive hobby but are stingy aren’t supporting missionaries, you should recalibrate your priorities.

2. They’re doing work that requires their full attention. I’m a very big proponent of bivocational ministry (having a job while doing church); I’ve been in doing it in some form since we’ve started Echo. But I know of some congregations that are now demanding that their missionaries have some sort of money-making endeavor on the side to help fund their own mission. While that’s conceptionally sound, it can be completely unrealistic in many cultures. It’s difficult to enter a business market as a foreigner and compete. These missionaries need to have the freedom to devote themselves fully to the ministry, and they can often do it at a much more affordable cost than ministers in the States.

3. They’re where you’re not. Admit it: there are places in the world that you’re glad you never have to go. Well, that’s where missionaries are. They’re committed to going there because it’s a calling. If God hasn’t called you to be there, the least you can do is support those who are paying the price.

Yep, I’m trying to make you feel guilty with this. But a little guilt can be good. As a family, we’re continually reanalyzing our financials to see if we can give more.

Need some ideas of who you can support? Glad you asked. Here’s a list of just some of the people I’ve talked to recently who could benefit from your support:
Adam and Kristy Griffith in Thailand.
Tracey and Christine Keitt in Chile.
Tom and Suja Brane in Burkina Faso.
Brent and Anna Fudge in Haiti.

And here are the missions that we support through Echo Church:
Dawid and Justyna Wawrzyniak in Poland.
Adam and Amanda Shreve in Zimbabwe.
Daniel and Buzi Mawyio in Myanmar.
Jade and Kim Kendall in Cincinnati’s inner-city.
Sam and Brittany Gill) in Pakistan.
Piotr and Heidi Paprocki in Poland.

And I know I’ve forgotten many more. The point is, if you’re a follower of Jesus, you’re part of a global body that meets all over the world. And there’s always things we can do to support our brothers and sisters around the globe. I’d encourage you to give of your wealth to support these efforts.

You can help change the world.

I recently wrote an article for the Christian Standard, a church magazine affiliated with my Restoration Movement religious tradition, entitled Counting Sheep. The point of the article is that churches should beware of only using worship attendance as a measure of success. Since it’s written in a more authoritative tone, I thought I’d go a little further here explaining why I wrote the article in first place.

I’ve always been inquisitive and find myself continually questioning why things are done in a certain way. I’m not sure it’s merely due to my rebellious nature; I’m not just trying to question authority. It’s just that too many times we assume that certain principles are universal, rather than just contextual. And if our rubric is skewed, we’ll never arrive at a truly healthy place.

This is my critique of the church growth movement: it was born out of an American post World War 2 society where unchurched people were looking to establish a faith foundation. It was appropriate to rely on a body count at the time, when people were coming to church for the first time. Now, almost three generations later, the nation’s percentage of Christians is in steep decline. Churches are finding it more and more difficult to reach the growing unchurched population, so we find ourselves in direct competition with other churches to attract consumeristically-minded believers.

It makes sense. This culture lends itself to larger and larger congregations and everyone wants to be a part of something successful. And the numbers are amazing. Just twenty years ago, a church of 7,000 was absolutely prolific. Now, there are more than 70 churches in the United States with over 10,000 people in attendance a week. As a result, systems enabling such large structures are becoming the norm among church practitioners. But if you question why we want churches to grow this large, the undeniable answer has been to claim that it’s biblical.

And that was the major issue I wanted to deconstruct: I truly believe that church size is not a biblical issue. It is well within the parameters of biblical permission to have a very small church or a very large church. But using the Bible to suggest that we MUST have large churches is poor hermeneutic and, perhaps, an abuse of Scripture. There are many things that we do in the church that have no prooftext. We shouldn’t assume to pull out some Bible verses to try to deflect criticism. What I hope happens is that, as our churches grow, we continue to ask ourselves if our growth is truly healthy.

In the article, I mention that part of my arrival to this position is what I’ve experienced this with Echo. I’ve been blessed to see some amazing things in our congregation, things absent in all of my previous ministries. I’m not trying to insult those churches, as all of them were numerically superior than Echo is. But if I held to only a quantitative formula of success, we would have shut this thing down a long time ago.

And my fear as that other church leaders will not be as discerning as they do ministry. But pastors’ egos are a fragile thing; if they don’t see an assumed yield, they could easily interpret it as a failed calling. So it’s critical that we identify this well. Not every congregation will experience phenomenal growth, but that doesn’t make it any less significant.

So this article wasn’t bathed in bitterness, but motivated by hope and encouragement. I hope all believers can take pride in their congregation, no matter how big or small. There’s plenty of room in the kingdom for all of us.

I recognize that taste . . . it’s very familiar . . .

Ah yes, it’s the aftertaste of dashed hope after another local sports team almost did something remarkable.

Like an oblivious teenager longing for reciprocal love, I give my all to my Cincinnati teams only to find myself crying into my pillow late at night. You think I’d be wiser after thirty-six years, but the leanings of my prepubescent heart always trumps acquired knowledge. I keep coming back for more and, thus, I’m constantly left with this taste of almost in my mouth—a full-bodied flavor of disappointment with just a hint of regret.

But I’m forever loyal to these teams; I just can’t quit them.

It’s in my DNA: I was born between Reds World Championships in the 1970s. And in my formative years, Cincinnati teams had a great run: between 1988 and 1991, the Reds won a World Series, the Bengals went to the Super Bowl, and UC basketball went to a Final Four. I remember jumping for joy when Todd Benzinger caught that foul ball in Oakland in 1990, but if that happened today, I might take off work for a week. This isn’t New York: sports championships don’t come by here very often. They’re to be cherished and loved like your children (or at least like a nephew you see every couple of months).

Since those glory years, Cincinnati fans have been subjected to regular servings of almost: Bearcat basketball in the mid-1990’s, the Reds in 1999 and 2010, Bearcat football in 2009, and the Bengals in 2005, 2009, and this year. You’d think just one of those teams could’ve won it all.

Almost.

But despite all the pain, I persevere. I love this city and, by default, civic pride demands that I love our teams. Someday, in my lifetime, one of these teams will win it all. It will be epic. And all these years of almost will be instantly forgotten.

And it could always be worse: we could live in Cleveland.