A Spirituality of Fundraising (#2 The Gifts of Faithful Friendships)

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Faithful Friends,

I started working at a large global organization during my final year at Azusa Pacific University. Like many missionaries, I was trained in the “write a letter to your friends and family, wait by the mailbox and pray” method of fundraising.

And it kinda worked. But I was always anxious and looking for another job at the same time.

Later, when a conversation started with the organization regarding full-time missionary work, I considered fundraising as a type of “Gideon’s Wool” for my decision. Family and friends responded positively to the letter, and the fundraising went really well. I took that as confirmation that the God was directing me to go into vocational ministry. 

In 2001, I started full-time as a missionary living in the Greater Los Angeles area, filled with anxiety regarding donor work. Again, I employed the fundraising tactic of “wait by the mailbox and pray,” constantly worried about the possibility of not getting paid each month, wondering if I would be put on financial leave, and hoping to be able to continue ministry with teenagers in our community.

In our attempts at fundraising, we utilized a training manual that came from our organization’s headquarters, but neither that manual nor our ongoing training sessions fully trained us to build relationships with supporters. Further, the theological basis and spiritual motives for fundraising in our organization were not articulated.

Have these theologies or motives been articulated in your organization? In your heart? What would happen in your relationships with supporters if fundraising had as much internal motivation as the rest of your mission?

The Gift of Transformed Family History and Ecclesial Tradition 

Growing up in a middle-class, blue-collar home, my mother and father worked tirelessly to provide our family with a wonderful home that valued God and practiced generosity. We always had plenty of food, clothes, and took great vacations at campgrounds all over the Midwest. My parents were present, loving, and encouraged us to take risks and trust the Lord. When fundraising became a piece of my job, I struggled with how to think about it and become a healthy practitioner. 

I did not know a single soul when I moved to Los Angeles and quickly realized that I did not have personal friends and family who were “rich” growing up. In high school and college, I would have defined "rich" as kids who had the latest Air Jordan shoes, families who flew to Turks and Caicos for spring break or Aspen to heli-ski, people who had a vacation home on a lake, or parents who bought a car for their child’s sixteenth birthday or paid for their college education. I was never close to many people of this economic status and did not have relationships with people who possessed this class of wealth. 

Questions started to form in my mind as a young fundraiser: How was I going to fundraise in an area where I did not know anyone? What would my middle-class friends and family in Michigan think about needing to raise money for my job? How would the people in my church back home feel? What strategy would I employ to meet as many “rich” people as possible in a short amount of time? I realized that if I was going to have to raise money, I needed to know not just more people beyond my family and friends, but people with significantly more wealth.  Sound familiar?

My Dutch immigrant grandmother would repeatedly ask, “Kevin, when are you going to get a real job?” We were closest to this side of the family, and they shaped many of our values and behaviors. My grandmother thought that a “real job” meant working with my hands and back, as most of my uncles had done. Physical work and the accompanying sweat and sore muscles were the definition of a job.

I was one of the first people in my family to graduate from college, and the definition of what constituted “work” was imbedded deep in our family. Since my work does not involve physical labor, I have often felt guilty about receiving pay for my work. I have had to face my attitudes and family history regarding money and work. As you read these articles, you may have to come to terms with some similar familial history as well.

Instead of being someone who earned a living from the sweat of his brow, the work of being a missionary often led me to feel like a beggar as I raised funds. Even though I knew in my head I was raising funds to support our mission to kids, in my gut I struggled with the reality that I was also raising personal support funds. I wasn’t only raising money so a kid could meet Jesus; I was raising money so I would get paid. There were many times when I considered leaving that role (I stayed 22 years!) so that I did not have to ask anyone for anything anymore.

I thought that asking for help was a sign of weakness in my immigrant family. 

Asking for help was also viewed as a weakness in my ecclesial tradition. Growing up in the Christian Reformed Church (CRC), I rarely heard people talk about generosity, giving, stewardship, or asking others to help in their time of need. Money was a private conversation in our tradition. After moving to California, I attended churches in the Covenant tradition and noticed that they talked about and practiced these things with regularity.

I often wondered what the disconnect was with regard to these conversations in the CRC tradition. Though generosity was not a conversation piece in the CRC tradition, watching my parents tithe, even during tough times, was quite formational for me. This was a value that they taught us and something that all of my siblings value to this day. 

Over the years, I learned that CRC people give generously and quietly and have experienced this personally in the last two decades of ministry. I have been moved by how CRC people practice generosity. There have been so many family and friends that have quietly given over the years to our mission. The church my parents have attended since 1994 has supported me every year I have worked with this mission organization. Even when I worked in California, this church was often the most generous financial supporter of my ministry. Amazing. 

I have also witnessed our home church practice a quiet generosity to our family. While my father was the custodian at the church, he underwent five surgeries in seven years. The church was incredibly generous through these surgeries. They could have left my parents to fend for themselves; instead, the church continued paying my dad. They valued him even though he could not fully perform all of his work duties and created a disability policy to ensure his bills would be paid. I am incredibly grateful to my parent’s congregation for practicing generosity in such a tangible manner. 

The Gift of Being Sent Ones 

I love the story of Jesus sending out the seventy-two in Luke 10. Luke makes it clear that Jesus cares deeply about those he “sends.” Similarly, I am sent and know that I am important to him. While explaining that “the missionary deserves their wages” in verse 7, one could surmise that Jesus has demonstrated that I am worthy of the support of the local community and should not feel guilty about receiving this support. This is a principle of “wide application that has been overlooked in Christian activities.”

Though volunteers play a significant role in mission organizations around the world, as a missionary that lives on the support of others, I work long hours, have made many sacrifices, and could most likely make much more money in some sort of other work. Even though my grandmother disagreed for a while that working as a missionary was a “real” job, I had to remember that anyone else with a job supports themselves with the wages earned from that job. Keeping this in mind has been a gift to me. 

As I’ve matured, I no longer struggle with “fundraiser guilt” as much. Instead, experiencing the generous love of God through the generous support of others has been spiritually formative. Feeling guilty about receiving pay, shelter, food, and water as a missionary who lives on the support and generosity of others is not of the Lord.

I really wish that someone had pointed me toward Luke 10 in the first ten years of being a missionary. It would have given me confidence and hope as I raised money. Thankfully, as God spiritually transforms me as a fundraiser, guilt and fear are being replaced with hope and confidence. God’s provision and protection over the past twenty plus years have helped me trust him in new ways. 

I sure do hope that your future is as transformational. What a gift it is to fundraise!

Lead with Love,

Kevin A. Eastway