Land Sailing in the Grand Barra, Djibouti

As part of my on-going campaign to highlight the perks of life in Djibouti, I bring you photos of our embassy's recent land sailing adventure in the Grand Barra. Having no experience, I was nervous at first, but it was quite fun. The place has a shade shelter and tables/chairs, so our group did a pitch-in lunch. There is a also a basic western-style bucket-flush toilet there. 

Tip: Fearing my sunglasses would be insufficient protection from the swirling sand clouds, I brought along my tinted swim goggles. Very glad I did. 

That's me

Short-Term Missions: Don't Forget the Importance of Follow-up!

Here's something to chew on:

In Randall Friesen's 2004 DTh in Missiology (via UNISA)  research report titled "The Long-Term Impact of Short-Term Missions on the Beliefs, Attitudes and Behaviors of Young Adults," he found that “post-trip regression in participants’ beliefs, attitudes and behaviors one year after returning from the mission experience was...significant. This regression indicates that inadequate attention is being paid to participant re-entry, debrief and follow-up….It is counter-intuitive to invest discipleship resources on returning short-term mission participants; however, the data indicates that is where the most significant discipleship challenges are found.”

Mourning Zibi in Djibouti (or, Mourning with Strangers)

Last Thursday evening at the Djibouti Protestant congregation's women's association meeting, Yolanda announced that Zibi had died.  "Who?" was the general response.

Zibi, a Cameroonian footballer had recently moved here on a contract from a Djiboutian team. Between his training schedule and the birth of their son, Zibi and his wife Princess were strangers to most of us at church. But, they had presented themselves to the senior pastor upon their arrival, so as far as the women's association and the church council were concerned, we had a moral responsibility to pay our respects to Princess and offer financial assistance in her hour of need.

And so, last night, there we were-- a menagerie of foreigners (Congolese, Malagasy, Cameroonian, Ethiopian, Swiss, German, French, American, etc.) gathered in the sparsely furnished apartment of a dead man we didn't know so that his widow--a foreigner like us--could ritually mourn his passing with the support of a community of faith. A handful of his teammates--some I'd seen at church--were there as well. Perhaps they were also flatmates.  

Princess sat in the circle with us.  I noticed her bald head (in mourning or her style?), her muscular build (also an athlete?), and the face of an emotionally drained but spiritually strong woman. As we sang, she changed her son's diaper. Her way of mourning that evening reminded me of a friend of mine.

When the church leaders had finished offering all the words, songs, and gifts of comfort they had brought, Princess informed us that Zibi had been a happy man. He wouldn't want to be remembered through songs of mourning. Could we close instead with a joyous song of faith?

And so, we did.

When Short-Term Mission Trips Make a Difference: A Testimonial

Yup. That's me on the right: my first trip outside the USA.

Critiques of short-term mission trips have been in academic journals for many years, and they've recently started to go viral in the mainstream discourse. I am happy about this dramatic increase in awareness; for too long unhealthy practices have continued on unexamined. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then this blog post was not written for you--not yet, that is.

This post is for those who have been reading books like Toxic Charity and Dead Aid and articles like Why You Should Consider Cancelling Your Mission Trips or Rethinking the $3,000 Mission Trip and need to be reminded to not throw the baby out with the bathwater. I'm offering my story as a case study.

About two decades ago, The United Methodist Church's South Indiana Conference gave me a youth scholarship to go to the North Katanga Conference (DR Congo). 

What was the mission? My father had been invited to be the keynote preacher at the conference; his words were so appreciated that the bishop convinced him to preach at the Tanyanika conference too. Dad was also there to witness the distribution of the hundreds of bicycles Hoosiers had helped purchase through the fundraising campaign he had led. I and two of my classmates (brothers), however, were just tagging along for the adventure. 

What did I do/accomplish? I had no skills to contribute or even ability to converse in local languages. I was that girl wearing comical braids, souvenir t-shirts and scandalous shorts. True to stereotype, I had even packed a beloved stuffed animal to sleep with, and my journaling was fairly shallow in the reflection department. 

We teens passed the time by wandering aimlessly around the village and entertaining the crowds of children who followed us. I'm certain that what the local church spent on our regional transport, food, etc. far outweighed anything one could argue they gained from our being there. The two brothers never returned to Katanga. It took me 10 years. 

The brothers (one of which is currently a political science professor in Qatar) can tell you their story some other time. As for me, I now had a stamp in my passport and the big wide world in my heart. That trip set into motion the course of the rest of my life. You tell me: Considering I could not have gone otherwise, Was giving me that scholarship a good use of church funds?

My second international short-term mission trip experience was an "alternative spring break" in Honduras organized by my university's head chaplain who had once been a GBGM missionary there. 

What was our mission? To educate ourselves and give some post-hurricane redevelopment assistance 

What did we do/accomplish? We journeyed to a village in the mountains and met people living there. We listened to stories about their lives and the situation in Honduras. We carried some construction blocks up a hill for a bit. We spent a day visiting the Mayan ruins in Copan. We got to have casual intellectual conversations with a couple of our university's international development professors who were on the team. We did souvenir shopping; I bought textiles and splurged on a fantastic carved trunk. I highlight the shopping part because purchasing items from local artisans was my main contribution to Honduras on that trip. I'm assuming that based on who was our leader, our hosts did not suffer financially from our visit. I have not returned since then; I don't know about the other students.  You tell me: Was this a better alternative to spending spring break lounging around in, say, Florida?  

I was recruited for my third international mission trip--offered all expenses paid by the Timmy Foundation for a month in Haiti.

What was my mission? Stick around a few weeks after the main team left to play big sister to a couple of inexperienced volunteers and report back to the foundation my observations about the medical school that they were being asked to assist. Coincidentally, most of the folks on the team were members of a very large United Methodist congregation in Indiana--including its senior pastor. 

What did I/we do/accomplish? I have no medical skills; only some on the team did. The unskilled entertained children while the doctors and nurses opened a pop-up clinic. I am still haunted by the desperate mother who was there each day; she had spent everything she had to save her child with encephalitis. We did not provide the help she sought. Later, we played with kids at an orphanage. (A woman on the team later tried to adopt one of the girls, but her request was refused by the orphanage director.) 

We were hosted by a woman who had returned home to Haiti after earning her doctorate and was trying to get a medical school off the ground. I unexpectedly became a substitute teacher at a boarding school for troubled Haitian-American youth that our host was running on the same compound. Upon my return to Indiana, I reported back the foundation and team leaders that there was something fishy about the orphanage and that the school's founder/director, while passionate and inspiring, had so many projects in the air that she had stretched herself to the point of poor management of all of them. By the time I gave this report, however, the congregation had already resolved to put their support behind the school and dismissed my recommendations as lacking vision/faith and/or proper respect for its director. I've not been back to Haiti; I'm not sure what happened after I walked away, but it appears that the foundation no longer sends teams there, and the congregation is involved in projects in another part of the country.

Ma Tante 

This last-minute joining of the trip occurred during one of the bleakest chapters of my faith walk. I had just completed my MA in international development and was feeling quite discouraged about the state of the world and my ability to change it. Either God didn't exist or God was a jerk; either way, we were no longer on talking terms. That's when Ma Tante (Aunty) walked into my bedroom. Despite her advanced dementia and my limited Creole, she preached to me coherently for half an hour straight, and I understood exactly what she was saying. She commanded me to get on my knees and pray for my faith to be saved. She proclaimed with confidence that God was preparing me for ministry with those who are suffering. She spoke with such authority that she brought me to tears. Later, when I informed her niece, the school's director, she responded nonchalantly: "Ma tante spent years as an evangelist; she probably just slipped back into that role for a moment." Aunty didn't remember me when I saw her again that day, but I still remember her. I've kept her photo prominently displayed for over a decade--a daily reminder to snap out of it, pray for faith, and go do what I've been trained to do.  You tell me: Is the world a better place because of that trip?

If you haven't noticed, the theme here has been the impact such trips have had on the quality of my life and ministry. It's a common theme among those who have been on such trips. In fact, I'm looking forward to reading a book I just heard about: Short-Term Mission: An Ethnography of Christian Travel Narrative and Experience, which appears to make a similar observation. I suppose a better question to be asking isn't whether short-term mission trips are valuable experiences but whether we are being honest with ourselves about who benefits from them and the implications from that.  I assert that we are getting more out of these trips than we are contributing. Perhaps, then, the challenge is to figure out how to do a better job of balancing the equation.

Shameless plug:  Friendly Planet Missiology has teamed up with the NC Jurisdiction Mission Discovery program, the IN UMC Volunteers in Mission program, and IN United Methodist Women to offer a chance for up to 7 lucky young adults (age 18-30) to travel with us to discover North Katanga. Application deadline closes very soon, so drop us a line immediately if you want in on the action. We're sure it will be life changing. 

What is Mission?

Church Retreat/Member Baptism on Maskali Island, Djibouti: A Mission Trip?

The word  mission is used so frequently in the Church that it is easy to assume that we all know and agree on what it means. In truth, the answer(s) are complex and debated. Since I've recently been accepted in a doctorate in missiology (the systematic study of mission) program, you'd think I'd be able to offer a simple straightforward definition.  In truth, the more I read/reflect on the subject, the more possibilities I discover.  Below is an early beta version of my answers.  I fully expect to revise this post over the next several years.  Contributions welcome. 






mission
/ˈmiSHən/
noun

1) Primary purpose/task

• The Mission of God (Missio Dei) -- Theologians debate this one; I suggest checking out the Wikipedia commentary on it. 

•  The Mission of the Church (What God has called the Church to do, Its primary task)--This too is debated. In what ways are the Mission of the Church and the Mission of God the same? Does the act of becoming a Christian makes one's mission in life the same as the Church's? It is possible for denominations to have different principal purposes, or are we debating interpretations of the same call?  The United Methodist Church's current mission statement, for example, declares its Mission to be "Making disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world." However, the beginning of the preamble of The UMC's constitution states "Under the discipline of the Holy Spirit the Church exists for the maintenance of worship, the edification of believers, and the redemption of the world." 
• God/the universe's Mission for all people --   Love?  

2) A journey one is sent on to accomplish an important task (in the Christian context, God is the sender)

          examples: the mission of Starship Enterprise, soldiers and secret agents given/sent on missions, a mission from God to put the band back together, etc

3) Important task that someone(s) is given to do (in the Christian context, the tasks are given to us but the mission belongs to God)

This is where the usage of the word mission starts to get muddled. Do we call every task we believe God has asked us to do our mission? Are call and mission synonyms? Prof Lovett Weems teaches that mission is “what God calls the church to do. It is the purpose of a church...Vision, on the other hand, while grounded in the mission, is that to which God is calling the congregation to do in the near future to advance the mission.” (page 92 of Take the Next Step) Weems argues that what is often labeled as our mission is actually our vision of how to respond to our Mission. The potential semantic implications of making such a distinction strain my brain. Would that mean that I'm a missiologist specializing in vissiology?  Until I've made my conclusions, I've decided to start typing (M)ission and (m)ission to distinguish between the big Mission and specific missions, but maybe, though, you'll spot me starting to type vision where one would expect to find mission.

4) A building/center whose primary purpose is to do the Mission of the Church.

The distinction between a church and mission is often determined by who pays the paychecks and utility bills. Another distinction seems to be whether organized worship or the alleviation of suffering is viewed as the primary function of the building.  I'd be interested in finding commentaries on when/why we call a mission a mission and not a church.

adjective
5) ?

The meaning of mission as an adjective is tricky. Examples include: mission trips, mission projects, mission committees, mission speakers, mission Sunday, mission giving, etc. In every example I've been able to think of, when mission is used as an adjective in American churches, it generally refers to activities of the congregation involving doing something for financially struggling people outside of the social circles of the congregation's membership. The most popular of these activities include (re)constructing buildings, providing food, digging wells, offering medical services, providing objects (books, clothes, shoes, bed nets, etc), providing entertainment to poor children, and teaching classes. More recently, micro-credit, marketing fair trade goods and offering matching grants have been gaining traction. A small but growing number of Christians are experimenting with other alternatives, some of which are featured in Robert Lupton's must-read Toxic Charity. In some churches, mission work also refers to efforts to convert individuals to Christianity; in others, this is put in a separate semantic category: evangelization. Another thing to note about mission when used as an adjective is that it often refers to activities not financed by one's tithes; a 'second mile' of giving is required to fund them. Except for a handful of people who are called to mission work, participation in such activities is presented as optional and/or bite-sizable (one week of volunteering per year or a few evenings per month).     .....................  I hope you see where I'm going with this, so I'll just lift up a couple more questions I'm pondering:  If Mission is the primary task God has given us in our life, why does mission as it is used as an adjective not carry the same weight? Or this one: if all the other things we do at church aren't mission work, then what are they and why are we doing them?  Let's discuss.

A few great comments about mission to chew on:

"Mission is not primarily an activity of the church, but an attribute of God. God is a missionary God." --David J. Bosch

"It is not the church that has a mission of salvation to fulfill in the world; it is the mission of the Son and the Spirit through the Father that includes the church." --Jurgen Moltmann

"We understand mission as the "cutting edge" of a Christian community, that is, its attempts to change the world through projects of evangelism, healing, teaching, development or liberation." University of South Africa's Missiology Department

Maintaining Friendships in a Digital World: A Case for not Trying so Hard

High school friends who flew/drove to my wedding 

 I recently realized that I have over 800 friends on Facebook. In case you are wondering, yes, I do know all those people (or at least knew who they were when I accepted their friend request). And, yes, I do think I've become stretched too thin. 

I suspect some of you can relate.

There's a statistic going around that people can only mentally juggle a real-world social network of about 120 people.  Not sure how true it is, but it feels about right. There is also a bunch of talk about social media undermining the development and maintenance of real-world friendships. Some of my friends have deleted their accounts and claim to be leading much happier and healthier lives because of it. Of course, since we don't live in the same hemisphere, I can only take their word for it; we don't communicate frequently anymore. ...But is that such a bad thing? My mother has lived far away from her childhood best friend since before I was born. They've never called or written each other often, but they did used to send their kids Christmas presents, and each time they do meet-up they stay up late giggling like no time has passed. (and, yes, their friendship survives despite one of them still not using social media)

Back in my teens, a workshop speaker spouted out some friendship statistics. It was something like by the time we reach full adulthood we'd still be in touch with a couple high school friends and a few college friends--if even that. I grimly accepted this, having noticed that when I attended retreats where small groups tearfully promised to remain BFFs, the physical distance and hassle of letter writing quickly drifted us apart. Around the same age, I saw a My Three Sons episode called "A Perfect Memory."  In it, the widower father's high school sweetheart comes back to town and attempts a visit, but she finds him not at home. Before he reaches her, however, she makes a decision that confused me at the time; she's leaves, having decided instead to preserve the perfect memory from their youth.

Friends from AU undergrad at the wedding

Many of the wonderful folks I've met over the years I haven't seen since our last perfect encounter. Thanks to Facebook, though, I now can, in theory, not only stay in touch with all of them but know where they vacation, how their children are doing, and even what they made for dinner.

For awhile, I thought of my friends list as my online congregation and treated my newsfeed as the joys and concerns announcements. As my husband pointed out, "just checking Facebook" could take me hours. I realized not even pastors of brick and mortar congregations are expected to know this much about their congregants.  For that matter, to my knowledge in no point of history were even best friends expected to know so much about each other's daily activities.

All these thoughts are pointing me to one conclusion: I think I'll try not trying so hard and see what happens. Perhaps more interactions with friends I can invite over for game night?

Also--- Do you think the lyrics of the song Remember me this Way (yes, my choir sang it at high school graduation) make sense in the digital age?  Can a strong case still be make for saying goodbye to those still living?

The Hippo's Creation: A Zambian Folktale

The following story was told to me while I was living in Lusaka as being an old Zambian folktale. The photos are from my trips to South Luangwa and Chobe National Parks. 

In the beginning, when God had finished making all the animals of the world, there was one lump of clay remaining. 

“Oh!” said the lump, “Please use me too! You don’t need much effort—just leave me as a lump, and I’ll be a hippo.”

“Hmm….” said God. “I don’t know. I have balanced the land and water animals perfectly. Where would I put you?”

“No problem. I could live in both the water and on land.”

“But you are so big,” said God. “You would eat up all the other animals.”

“No!” said the lump. “I could be a vegetarian, and I could prove to you every day that I have not eaten any animal.  I will open my mouth wide so you can check my teeth, and when I poo, I will spin my tail to show you there are no bones!”

And thus God agreed to create the hippo.

 

(I thought I'd share the story of the hippo since this video has been making the rounds)

When Parties Aren't For You

Early birthday cake with grandparents

Earlier this month, blogger Seth Adam Smith wrote a post about how marriage wasn't for him, and it went crazy viral. Many people loved Smith's father's advice: "You don’t marry to make yourself happy, you marry to make someone else happy." Others, however, hated it and pointed out that, among other things, such a belief is toxic when told to someone in an abusive relationship. As is so often the case, what is a curative for some is poison for another. 

I was thinking about this when debating discussing with my husband this weekend how to celebrate our daughter's 2nd birthday, which is just a few days away. My husband and I are deeply ambivalent about hosting parties. We didn't have a party for her last year, but considering how many she has now attended, it seems as if social reciprocity requires it--that a birthday party for a toddler isn't really for the child (who won't understand what is happening or remember it anyway); it is for the community. 

I used to love having parties. That is, I used to love it when friends came over and we had some laughs and there was minimal prep and clean-up work on my part. These parties weren't simply fun; they were reassurance that doggonit, people liked me. The only catch was that I wasn't allowed to consciously exclude anyone. If I invited girls from school, we invited all the girls in my class. If I invited friends from church, the youth group came. We took our Methodist rhetoric about the open table seriously; all are welcome.

This theology was hardwired into my operating system, and it confused and grieved me when I realized that others didn't share it. Mom would try to soothe my pain by making excuses for classmates who bragged about their parties that didn't include me: "Don't take it personally; it was probably just that their parents only invited families that they knew; maybe they all belong to the same club or something." I did take it as rejection, though, and it increased my desire to avoid inflicting on others the same feeling.

The 'ya'll come' approach worked well for me into my mid-20s. College parties were spontaneous and required little work. (When your furniture includes cardboard boxes draped with scarves and the meal consists of splitting a Papa John's pizza order, there is no pressure to keep up appearances)

That all changed the year Stuart bought a house, and we began hosting 'grown-up' parties--inviting his State Department colleagues and such. Suddenly, 'ya'll come' meant rooms so crowded with acquaintances that many guests never sat down, several hours of cleaning and cooking, and considerable thought and expense put into what to serve and how to serve it (since apparently it is gauche host a grown-up party and ask folks to pitch-in). By the end of the party, I'd be wiped out from my catering and small-talk duties and near tears at the sight of the mess in the kitchen. Parties weren't fun for me anymore; they were hard work. While we still fantasized about our party ideas (rooftop dances, antique sheet music sing-along, caroling, brunch & croquet, etc), we'd sometimes go a year between having one.
  
Now I'm sure some of you are thinking that the obvious solution for introverts like me is to eschew such parties and invite over a few close friends instead. Yes, that can work sometimes, but I think that assumes that a party is for the happiness of the one hosting it, which I'm not sure is true.  The big Denyer Christmas party, for example, has a been an opportunity to show all our friends in town that we care about them--to make sure they get to carol around a piano at least once that season, have festive foods 'neath holiday decorations, and renew and expand friendships. Yes, it's a lot of work for us, but when we consider trimming the invite list, the guilt of crossing out anyone's name is too great.

The added complication, of course, is that I am now married to a foreign service officer and switch countries every couple years. Have I told you about that terrifying book they provide to spouses that has several pages on party protocol in the foreign service (including seating rules so complex that they suggest investing in round tables)? Yes, I know I'm overreacting; most of those rules are generally ignored, but there definitely is a rather high bar in this world I now live in when it comes to what/how one serves guests--including the small gatherings--such that it is often hard to tell when you are at an actual party or a work function. After all, the guest list is going to be about the same regardless.

This brings hubby and me back full circle in our debate discussion. If parties are for the strengthening of the community, we should have them more frequently and invite all of our American embassy colleagues* to anything that's larger than having just a few friends over. Yes, this can mean quite a large crowd with many children running about.  This is partly why those in our community who believe that parties are for their happiness have trimmed their lists. We often don't make their cut (because we haven't invited them to anything this year?), and I confess I get a momentary flashback to teenage insecurities each time I see pictures on my newsfeed of what we missed.  I don't want to do that to others.  But, then again, considering how rarely I host anything these days, perhaps others assume that I already did!

What do you think? Should parties be for your happiness, and, if so, when?

*and this isn't even addressing the Pandora's box about how very few of the locally employed embassy staff (i.e. non-Americans) ever get invited to after-hours social events hosted by Americans.

An Open Letter to Those who Suspect I Dislike Them

Glaring at hubby: a vacation photo tradition

When I was a kid I had a diary. Reading it, you might think I had a miserable childhood. The truth is just that I only wrote when I was sad or mad; I was too busy enjoying life the rest of the time.    

I got to thinking about this when my mentor reminded me to balance the tone of my social media presence. If I primarily blog my criticisms of the efforts of well-meaning people and repost social commentaries, a lot of the folks I'm trying to influence might dismiss me as a grump.

That’s not who I am—at least, not all the time. Idealistic, stubborn passionate, and opinionated pensive, yes, I’ll agree to those labels. And yes, that can result in such profound frustration that sometimes I feel flames on the side of my face (Mom jokes that I popped out of her womb screaming with righteous indignation). Frequently, though, it also manifests as playfulness, hospitality, and moments of serenity. Married life has put a damper on my flirtatiousness and I’m less likely to let loose at a party now that I’m a pastor and Foreign Service spouse, but I still can be a load of laughs in the right setting. I’m not half bad as a shoulder to cry on, either.

For reasons I don’t fully understand (Pro bono offers of psychoanalysis and behavioral modification therapy welcomed), it has been noted that I am socially awkward in some settings yet charismatic in others. This doesn’t seem to have any correlation with how interested I am in befriending the people in these settings. For example, a few years back I was excited to meet a colleague of my husband who, based on descriptions, sounded like she could be my next best friend. Despite my efforts, though, our conversations reeked of forced politeness; I concluded she wasn’t fond of me and stopped trying. About a year later, my husband decided to put an end to my “Why doesn’t she like me?”s and asked her directly if I had made a faux pas or somehow offended her.  He returned home with this shocker: She had been wondering why I disliked her!

I’d write this off as an isolated tragic-comedy, but anecdotal evidence suggests a pattern. I suspect there are others who have incorrectly assumed I disliked them just as I have discovered I have been wrong in such assumptions (and have obsessed about all the ways I can be off-putting).  Hence, this self-disclosing post. (Links to studies or articles about this phenomenon are welcome; I've never found one, but I hope they exist).  If I ever crack the code to what's really going on, I'll let you know.

In the meantime, I'll wrap up with this:

If we've met and you suspected I disliked you, chances are it was the setting putting me out of my comfort zone--or me struggling to find a conversation topic that seemed to interest you--or me wanting to share with you about one of my passions--or me thinking that you weren't fond of me.  It could even have been me trying too hard to fill the uncomfortable silences with chatter. And while yes, occasionally there are people I find offensive or hard to respect, the chances that you (someone who reads this blog) are one of them are rather slim.

So, if we happen to find ourselves in the same town, perhaps you would like to share a meal or a hot beverage?

Are we seeking the questions first? Mission Work and Jumping to Solutions (Part 1)

Birds for guests: the go-to gift-giving solution in Congo

I’ve been talking a lot lately about UNISA's doctorate in missiology program. The application deadline is next week, so it’s put-up or shut-up time if I’m really going to start this next year.

Updated resume?  Check.
Scanned academic records and passport? Check.

Completed research proposal outline?  Um… not exactly

As my advisor noted, I have some good ideas on topics to discuss in a dissertation; I even have some assertions to make.  I’m missing a vital element, though: the actual research question. 

My big question is way too broad:  “What are appropriate responses of Christians of a comfortable socio-economic status to the struggles of those of lower economic status?” How far shall I narrow my focus?  Perhaps “What are healthy responses of American United Methodists of dominant socio-economic status to the struggles of United Methodists in the North Katanga and Tanyanika Episcopal Area?” 

I laugh at myself that I started outlining what the content of my research would be before having a question. Typical American wanting to jump to the answers.  I’m forever catching myself doing what I lament that others do.

Middle-class Americans have a bad habit of latching onto solutions without first exploring the problem/question.  On multiple occasions Friendly Planet has had to decline offers from well-meaning friends who have come to us with their favorite solution (containers of donated items, funds for ‘appropriate technology,’ volunteer team of laborers, VBS instructors, etc.).  Like those gee-thanks gifts I used to receive from relatives each Christmas, just because an item is something someone out there could appreciate it doesn’t mean it is what the people you are offering it to really want or need.  And, just like those presents I regifted to Goodwill with the tags still on them, the amount of money well-meaning Americans spend each year on 'solutions' that aren't useful is tragic.

Together we can stop the insanity.  Let's start taking the time to truly get to know each other--our deepest longings and the complexity of our problems-- instead of wasting resources by rushing to solutions. Otherwise, our well-intended gifts will probably just lay an egg.    

For further reading on this topic, I highly recommend Sam Wells' brilliant piece on Rethinking Service (Read the entire piece; it starts slow with a powerful finish)