Five Great Things About Microfinance

1) It builds wealth in the poorest countries. Some problems are problems of wealth distribution. But in many developing nations, the problem is a lack of wealth, period.Looking around Kiva’s website, I see many nations where the average yearly salary is less than my monthly take-home pay … and I work in education, not medicine or law.

Microfinance can help both situations, because it helps people create and expand small businesses and farms. This means more genuine goods and services delivered where they are needed most.

And nations with strong middle classes are much more resistant to manipulation and exploitation by large corporations and corrupt government officials. These loans don’t help Exxon or Goldman-Sachs. They help families.

2) It helps women especially. In many male-dominated societies, microfinance is one of, if not the, only way for women to get the capital to start businesses. And having their own businesses, and their own money, helps put women on an even footing with men. This can have a powerful equalizing effect on society.

3) It helps children, too. Families with small businesses can often afford to send their kids to school, rather than keeping them out to work. Many of the loan requests I’ve read on Kiva mention that very thing. The more kids stay in school, the fewer end up as child brides, child soldiers, child prostitutes, or, more commonly, unskilled laborers living lives of poverty.

4) It’s the gift that keeps on giving. Because you’re making a tiny loan, and not giving a donation, the entrepreneur will repay it in time. Then you’ll be able to take that same money and lend it out to someone else. You can keep the same money in circulation or you can add more each month, creating a snowball effect.

5) It’s cheap. The cost of entry is only $25 on Kiva, the world’s leading microfinance operation. And once it’s repaid, you have the option of taking your money back. So you’ve got very little to lose. Why not head over to Kiva (or to WorldVision’s microfinance department) and check it out?

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Does ‘Treasures in Heaven’ mean a Church Savings Account?

As good Christians, we praise thrift and hard work, earning and saving. Do we sometimes go so far?

Jesus told a parable that may apply.

16 And He told them a parable, saying, “The land of a rich man was very productive.

 17 And he began reasoning to himself, saying, ‘What shall I do, since I have no place to store my crops?’ 

18 Then he said, ‘This is what I will do: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. 

19 And I will say to my soul, “Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years to come; take your ease, eat, drink and be merry.”’ 

20 But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your soul is required of you; and now who will own what you have prepared?’ 

21 So is the man who stores up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God.”

– Luke 12:16-21 (NASB)

I know we have to take care of our families, that is clear. And it logically follows that as churches, we should handle our finances carefully, too.

But do we go too far sometimes?

I especially wonder why some churches have a year’s worth of expenses (or more) squirreled back, and give only a pittance to poor relief each month. Granted, this is probably better than being mortgaged to the hilt, and unable to afford to help people, but is it really Jesus’ ideal?

I’m not advocating consumerism, borrowing money to build huge, super-modern Church buildings, paying celebrity pastors six figures, and generally reveling in our American bling. I can’t see any justification for that, honestly.

But might our focus be just a little bit off? Might our thrift be impeding our generosity?

I guess I shouldn’t raise these sorts of questions without at least trying to give some kind of answer.

And my answer is: a church’s finances should be guided by their situation and by prayerful consideration of how to address that situation, always keeping in mind that doing good is more important than looking good, and that true security comes from God, not a fat bank account.

Growing churches sometimes have to borrow money to expand. I don’t think it’s ever good for a church to be in debt (see Proverbs 22:7), but sometimes a church might have to do it. Sometimes borrowing money might even be a leap of faith.

However, I’ve personally been a part of two churches that experienced splits/mass defections (before I got there) over building big new buildings on credit. In both cases, many of the most vocal proponents of the expansions ended up leaving, even though the expansions happened.

I wasn’t there, so I won’t pretend to know anybody’s motives, but it wasn’t an ideal situation. Honestly, it was more of a minefield. It certainly soured me on churches borrowing money.

As for the other extreme, I see nothing wrong with a church saving up large sums for major expansions or needed renovations. It’s better than borrowing, if the church can do it.

And as for general savings, I think a church should have enough money saved back to weather an emergency (whether that’s unexpected repairs or an economic downturn that reduces giving), but not a death spiral.

If a church enters a period where its incoming offerings are consistently falling behind its costs, there’s a deeper problem. Maybe membership is declining. Maybe the church became too dependent on a few large donors, and one of them has gone. Maybe there’s major inefficiencies in how the church spends its money.

In any case, something needs to be addressed. And the real problem will get addressed faster if the church doesn’t have a year’s operating expenses sitting in the bank waiting to be drained.

Ultimately, a church that doesn’t interact with the community, that hoards its resources while ignoring the needs just outside its well-manicured lawn … that church is missing a great opportunity, like the rich man and his barns.

The Ethics of Disaster Preparation

Port Sulphur, Louisiana after Hurricane Katrina

Port Sulphur, LA, after Katrina. NOAA

As I sit here, listening to the rain from Isaac’s feeder bands battering our windows, my thoughts have turned to hurricane preparation, and then disaster preparation in general.

I’ve been reading up on disaster preparation and management for several years now.  It’s a hobby of mine, I guess, and one that can be useful.  I certainly have some of the coolest flashlights around.  That said, it does have a bit of a dark side.

A lot of prepping and survivalist literature, communities, and online forums tend to take a very self-oriented view.  Part of the “survivalist” mindset, I think is the idea that to survive, you have to focus on the survival of yourself and your group (family, buddies, etc), to the exclusion of everybody else.

I think some of this comes from the backgrounds of many of those who set the tone – in an infantry unit, it’s your group versus the enemy on one hand, and a population you can’t trust on the other.  But some of it comes from the selfish, atomized, community-less nature of American society, and I honestly see the worst of it in people who aren’t former soldiers.

But wherever it comes from, the theme seems almost axiomatic: you don’t help anyone else, because that involves splitting your supplies, and taking on one more mouth to feed, clothe, and transport.  That is, unless that person has important skills, equipment, or knowledge that will help you to survive.  Even then, you have to worry a lot about who you can trust.

And I suppose there may be a certain degree of prudence to this if you ever find yourself in a zombie-pocalypse – why just look at all the trouble helping strangers brought to Hershel and his family in The Walking Dead.  But zombie-pocalypses are the stuff of comics, movies, and television.  They’re not the real world.  And in the real world, we have a responsibility to maintain our humanity even in the face of disaster.

—-

So, let me turn my critical eye inward and stop kvetching about the culture.  Looking at what I’ve done to prepare for this storm, I see a number of missed opportunities.  Both of which would have required a plan ahead of time (doesn’t all disaster preparation require a plan ahead of time?).  The first, and arguably biggest, was that I didn’t give a single thought to finding out how to help the homeless in our city find shelter during this storm.  Even though we’re far from the coast, the wind and rain threaten to be much stronger than any thunderstorm.  Right now, I feel compassion, but that’s all I actually can do now.  Feeling bad on my part doesn’t help anyone.

The second, and arguably the most shameful, is that I still don’t really know my neighbors that well.  I know the young couple across the street, who hold Bible studies, and my neighbor to the right, who’s lived in this neighborhood for a very long time.  But the others?  I only know them to wave at them.  I wouldn’t know if they had any specific needs for this storm.  And that’s really pathetic.  They’re my neighbors in the most literal sense, and I don’t even know them.  And I have no excuse.

I’ve basically fallen into the survivalist selfishness by accident.  Sure, I wouldn’t grab a shotgun and chase somebody away who’s just asking for food or clean water, but I’ve set myself up to not be in much of a position to help anyone.  Great job, Tim.

—-

Oh, I hear someone saying, cooperation doesn’t work in a disaster.  Let me tell you a story about my village.  Perkinston, Mississippi, late August and early September, 2005.  Katrina hit, and knocked out power and water for three weeks.  My parents (God bless them) stayed, not because they were too proud to evacuate, but because they had some friends with serious medical conditions, and they wanted to be there in case those friends needed to be rushed to a hospital.

After the storm, when it became clear that power and water were out, people started pulling together.  One friend, Mr. B____, had well water (for those of you who live in the city and never encountered that term before, that means he was outside of the municipal water grid, and had a water well in his yard with a pump that supplied water to his house).  That pump usually ran on the standard electrical grid, but could run on a generator.  Mr. B____ ran the pump for about an hour a day, providing water for his family and for several other families, including my parents.  Those among these beneficiaries who had gasoline brought it to him so he could keep the generator going.  Mom remarked to me, “It’s funny, but that gas can was just as full when I got it back than it was when I dropped it off.”

FEMA distributed supplies (they’re not completely worthless: their failures were well-publicized, but their successes were not), and the people generally tried to help distribute them, even to people who couldn’t make it to the drop-off.  In time, donations from further upstate poured in, and the locals created a food pantry to manage distribution of the goods.  They called it Our Daily Bread, and it’s still in operation to this day, running on donations from individuals and local businesses.

It’s true, a shark-selfish survivalist strategy might have worked, too.  My parents and their friends might have survived based on what they had stored.  Some individuals, the ones in the worst health, might not have.  And, in such a dog-eat-dog scenario, looting might even have taken place, as we saw in New Orleans.

But no looting occurred, not because Perkinston people are too good to take extreme measures if they’re starving, but because they were too good, and too well connected to each other, to let it get to that point.  Nobody starved.  Nobody died.  Nobody got gunned down.  The community came together, and they not only survived the worst hurricane in Mississippi history, they thrived.

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The real shame, here, is that I’ve had seven years to learn from their example, and I still haven’t gotten it yet.  But I’m trying, and I’m learning.  I hope this will be the turning point.