I hate fundraisers by any Church group. 

Every time I tell someone that, the immediate response is about how programs need funds and people love to serve, so it is a great combination. 

My response runs in two directions. The first is very practical. It is simply not a great way to generate money. People have to buy supplies, spend time preparing, and then other people have to spend time trying to sell them. All for a couple of hundred dollars. I tell the people in my Church that I will pay them NOT to do it.

My other reason is theological. Believers are called to support the mission of Christ. If we believe something is worthy of our time for Jesus, the Church should support it with its resources. Fundraising is about an exchange of goods or services. The issue for a Church community is not fundraising; it is faith raising. People who believe in what we are doing will pour out their resources to make it happen. They need faith that God will bless them in return by meeting all their needs. 

Recently our Church closed all secondary bank accounts and now has just one. All money goes into it, and all bills are paid from it. There is no fundraising, no special pleas, or auxiliary ways of getting money. The people have responded by giving far more than I could have imagined. 

The Lord loves cheerful givers (2 Corinthians 9:7), and I believe he loves churches filled with giving people.   

Ministry does require funding, but I am not a fan of fundraisers. 

Beneath my exterior behaviors lies a full range of emotions. Under those lie my heart and soul. Inside them, there are areas that I never share with people and a few dark spots that are completely hidden. Only God and I know they are there. And I like to pretend that God doesn’t acknowledge they exist.

These hidden places include my shameful experiences, sinful thoughts, and personal pain. It is dark and cold inside there, and I feel guilty when the doors accidentally pop open. It is like a junk drawer of pain and shame containing a conglomeration of ugly things that do not fit in my life. 

This is also the place I find it the most difficult to let Jesus enter. I have judged these things myself and know they are not worthy of being in the heart of a Christian. Surely Jesus will judge me for even having a hint of these ungodly things in my life. As a result, I carefully position myself in front of the drawer so that Jesus will not see it, open it, or look at what lies inside. 

After forty years of being a Christian, you would think I could let Jesus take a look, but I find it is too embarrassing. I should not have these things in my life anymore. I know it, and he knows it. 

One challenge for every believer is to be honest with God about our darkest secrets. To drag our ugliness into the light of God’s love and allow him to remove it from our lives. It won’t be very comfortable. It will be scary. But it will also be freeing. 

Cleaning the unseen places is always nasty business, but I am thankful that Jesus is someone who washes his disciple’s feet as a part of his love for them. The things you never see are where I need his grace the most.