does charity need to be reinvented?

[an article written for Stewardship – a really great charity that aims to encourage generosity wherever it is found]

When President Obama mentions your work by name and Will and Jada Smith forgo birthday gifts to raise over $100,000, your charity can rest a little easy, right? Not if you’re Scott Harrison, founder and CEO of charity: water – or any of the nearly billion people they still intend to help.

Believe it or not, the aim of solving the world’s water crisis is not the only item on charity: water’s agenda. As Scott explains, the US non-profit organisation exists “to bring clean drinking water to one billion people and restore faith in giving, to reinvent charity and bring people back to the table of generosity.”

It’s a challenge of epic proportions, and – fittingly – is the result of a remarkable God-scripted transformation.

“I grew up in the church and was very active until about 18,” explains Scott. “I was filled with faith and living it out. Then there were ten years of rebellion, of doing all the things that I hadn’t been allowed to do.” That season away from God was played out in New York – in high-end nightclubs and on Caribbean islands reached by private jets. It was, he admits, ‘painfully cliché’.

“After 10 years I had a moment of introspection. I was dating a model, owned a Rolex watch, a BMW, a grand piano and a golden retriever. I had ticked the boxes of success… and there was a hole, an emptiness.”

It was a moment of revelation that changed everything. “I saw that I would never find happiness, purpose or fulfilment in the things that I was chasing. There would never be enough girls, never be enough money, never be enough fame or status. I looked at people who had more of all of that – more money, more girls, more status – and they were miserable.”

And so, thanks to the unfailing grace of God (as well as the writings of A.W. Tozer), Scott’s journey changed course. He abandoned the life and trappings of a nightclub promoter and reconnected with his faith. And like the younger son in the parable, he found that returning home was far simpler than he might have thought:

“What was surprising was how easy it was to come back. I hadn’t lost my faith, I’d just lost obedience. I’d disobeyed for ten years, not turned into an atheist.”

*

It is not only wayward nightclub promoters who might consider selfishness a virtue and ambition-at-all-costs, an essential. There are so many of us who – to a degree – subscribe to a “me first” philosophy that it barely registers as a problem. And yet throughout the whole of Scripture we see the same lesson being taught: God calling His people to turn away from living purely for themselves and find instead the true freedom that comes from following Him. And as that first domino falls we see that selflessness leads to compassion, which leads to generosity, which leads to the transformation and restoration we so deeply crave.

A year or so after he returned, that sequence began in earnest for Scott. He was sharing a cramped cabin with cockroaches and crew members on board a hospital ship. They sailed up and down the West African coast for two years performing vital surgeries as part of the Mercy Ships charity. Volunteering as a photojournalist, Scott saw extreme poverty firsthand, encounters which left him in pieces, run raw by compassion.

What’s more, he witnessed – like his return to faith – the relative ease with which lives can be transformed. Specifically he saw in the stagnant ponds and arduous, dangerous journeys lugging dirty H20 back to the most basic of homes, an issue that was right at the heart of so much suffering: water. Fix that, he realised, and life is almost instantly transformed.

But how to solve a problem like water – where one billion people lack access to the very liquid we hardly ever think about? A colossal issue like this would need a massive response from people, a deluge of generosity. Yet, among his peers Scott found that charity was held in particularly low regard.

“My friends weren’t giving. Many of them claimed that charities were broken, that they were inefficient. They disliked the lack of transparency and felt there was no connection to the people that were being helped.”

Many of these arguments were mere excuses, but “everybody seemed to have a horror story of one charity that spent 80% of its money on its staff and only 20% on its programme.” And so, in order to transform the lives of one in eight people on the planet, the plan was hatched to reinvent charity itself.

*

So it is not surprising to find that charity: water does things differently. First they commit to financial transparency, which looks like this: you want to give to a project? Fine – 100% of your money will go to the field (even the 4% credit card fee that the bank will take out of your donation). All other costs – from wages to marketing, printer toner to that 4% credit card fee – are funded by a group of private donors, foundations and companies.

Secondly, they like to show where donations have gone… precisely where they have gone. Once a project has been delivered, photos and GPS coordinates are uploaded onto Google Maps on the charity: water website. Forget the idea of an appeal raising money for a nebulous general fund – charity: water donors can know within 10 feet where in the world their money has been put to use.

Finally, says Scott, “I wanted to build a brand. Charities were awful at branding and marketing. Their websites were among the worst of any sector in the world. They didn’t seem to be very good at telling stories visually or telling them simply. If we were to build a charity to solve the global water crisis we would need to build an epic brand – a brand to rival Nike and Apple and Coca Cola.”

Five years on and charity: water is thriving. In its first year it raised less than $1million. In 2011 that figure was around $30million. With a big staff? No. Charity: water has a fundraising team of just two – with no fundraising director (“…we’ve been trying to find one for 18 months but just haven’t found the right person” explains Scott.)

They must be quite some fundraisers, yes?

Again the answer is ‘no’. “It’s not that they’re that good and it’s not that I’m that good – what we’ve done is to outsource our fundraising to our supporters. So we have 11,000 people that have fundraised for charity: water – giving up birthdays, climbing mountains, swimming the English Channel, walking across America, eating rice and beans.

“We’ve found that if we can inspire others to catch the vision they can take personal ownership. We just give them very simple tools so that they can be effective in fundraising – they’re the ones that do it… and that’s the secret to our fundraising success – outsourcing it to our supporters, empowering and rewarding them as they and their entire community can see what they have done. The seeing is very important. We’re not telling them, but showing them what they’ve made possible.”

And it works. The average fundraiser for charity: water raises about $1,000. Some, like Hollywood A-lister Will Smith lend their name and profile to bring in more significant sums, but charity: water has relied on the personal connection rather than the lure of celebrity. As reported in the last edition of Share, the generosity of individuals like 9-year-old Rachel Beckwith has inspired others to give in staggeringly generous ways.

And here we arrive at the third item on the charity: water agenda – to bring people back to the table of generosity. That idea of seeing the impact of one’s giving plays a pivotal part in the process. As Scott says, the key to transformation in this area “has to do with breaking through cynicism. A lot of people believe that charity is broken, that we give all this money to Africa but what really changes? They pontificate in generalities, and it’s easier that way as it lets them off the hook… But people do want to give – they want to help, they just want to believe in the process. And I think they deserve a glimpse of the lives they’ve transformed.”

*

All this talk of epic brands and charity reinvented – does it mean that Scott scorns all those frumpy looking other charities, like a nightclub promoter skipping to the head of the queue? Does he, for example, believe that charities can outlast their aging supporters?

“I think so, but I think they need to keep reinventing themselves. The traditional model of fundraising doesn’t seem to work so well today.”

Scott cites direct mail as an example. While it has been a tried and tested strategy for years, its effectiveness is on the wane.

“If you or I get some direct mail we’re less likely to open it, write a cheque and put it in the envelope, put on a stamp and walk to the mailbox. Our generation is used to giving online and using mobiles, the tools of our time. I think that there are organisations that have survived for decades – the Salvation Army and Red Cross (who raised over $100m for the Haiti earthquake just via mobile giving). Some of these groups have learned to meet their new donors where they’re at.”

Some, but not all, right?

“When I look at a charity’s website or do some pro-bono analysis, most of their problems lie around storytelling. They fail to tell their story simply. We’ve all heard someone talk about a cause that they are passionate about and they go on for 5 minutes and we are still left at the end wondering what exactly it is that they do. There’s no excuse for that. There is a lot of complexity in what charity: water does – just as there is complexity in every organisation – but donors need to be able to tell a two-year-old what you do.

“If you don’t have a simple story to tell it really doesn’t work in new media. Attention spans are getting shorter and shorter. Attention spans are in 140 characters, so if you don’t have a version of your mission statement that can fit in a tweet, you have a problem. And the world is getting more and more visual. The number one thing that people click on is video, then photos, then maybe – a distant third – are articles. Traditional charities have to make that leap to the visual.”

As well as the process and the packaging, there’s another side to charity: water that could – and should – inspire others: a singular lack of competitiveness. Scott talks of working with 25 other charities to drill fresh water holes, of making it a personal priority to support as many charity start-ups as possible and frequently recommending alternative charities to those who don’t find charity: water appealing. When he preaches the value of generosity, he’s obviously a convert.

But doesn’t he worry about market share?

“No. We think there’s all the money in the world.”

And that’s it. Charity – which, as Scott explains “comes from the word caritas meaning love” – is not ill-equipped, insignificant or quaint. It does not need to be apologised for, protected or told to wait in line. Charity – love itself – is more than a match for the problems that surround us. The challenge lies in opening the eyes and hearts of others to understand that truth for themselves.

the river flows one way

Partly it’s because my legs and lungs want a break, but there are more noble reasons for stopping mid-way through my run. The pause comes when I cross the Thames on a footbridge. It’s at the mid-point of an S-shaped bend, the precise moment at which – as any four-year-old with eyes fixed with the force as they battle with pen and paper knows – things move freely. I stand there, at first facing upstream, then turning to stare down – and I think and pray about what’s gone before and what’s coming up.

Today there will be plenty of water coming towards me. It’s what would be my mother’s 68th birthday, but this post isn’t really about that. Not because the date doesn’t matter, but just because it turns out that those people who pat you on the back at funerals are partly right after all: time really does heal. [Why partly? Because some wounds are too deep, too unnatural and too unexpected to avoid long-term damage.]

Today I’ll look downstream. This week my daughter travels to Africa for the first time. She’s nine and I’m excited to be going along for the ride. It’s a long story – one that involves a remarkable family in Uganda who opened up their home to orphans twenty years ago and who went on to set up a primary school for them and others a decade later. A year or so ago the source of their funding started to dry up – call it internal politics, bad fortune or a great opportunity for others to join in the adventure. Whatever was behind it, the fact is that we’re in the privileged position to be able to join in with others to help the school get back on its feet.

And this is the point of this post: I don’t have to look downstream to know where the water comes from. I don’t have to look to the past to know that the legacy and love of others remains in force today. I don’t have to reconstruct hazy images of my mum in action to know that her influence flows with equal parts grace and force through her granddaughter.

So, happy birthday mum. We’re off to get wet.

The Unlikely Candidate

Last week I went to my dead mother’s 21st birthday party. Admittedly, it wasn’t strictly my mum’s birthday; instead it was the anniversary of the charity that she helped establish 21 years ago. But it felt like she was there all the same. And I know she would have loved every minute of it.

And as we wedged ourselves into the town-centre church to celebrate the thousands of lives of homeless men and women that had been improved by this ever-growing charity, I prepared to speak on the idea of the ‘unlikely candidate’. It’s precisely what my mum was. She wasn’t well educated about the issues of addiction or well versed in the socio-political influences that lie behind the horror of homelessness. She wasn’t much of a public speaker and she wasn’t all that good at managing conflicting interests within a growing organisation. So, yes, she was an unlikely candidate.

Aren’t we all? I mean, if you really think about it, which of us are in any way qualified to do anything that courses with the life-blood of God’s purpose and power? What gives any of us the right to expect God to use us? Aren’t there others with greater skills – and fewer issues? But grace can beat failure any day of the week. And the days when the weak rise up to serve and to lead are some of the most beautiful that we can ever hope witness.

All of which is a long-winded way of introducing a bit of art. Have a look at this picture by the fourteenth century Italian equivalent of Banksy, AKA Giotto.

This little puppy happens to be known by the title The Mystic Marriage of St. Francis with Holy Poverty and you can find it on the wall of a church in Assisi, Italy.

Now take a proper look – a thirty second one.

You begin to see the story after a while. Poverty stands central to the scene, dressed in rags, looking frail, pale and, frankly, a bit rough. But she’s got wings, which is worth remembering. On her right is Christ, and to his right is Francis of Assisi, to whom Jesus is turning as if at the part of the marriage ceremony where the groom, in his final act as a single man, take his soon-to-be-wife’s hand, places a ring upon her finger and declares his solemn vows of fidelity, devotion and love.

There are plenty of angels on either side of the happy couple, and there are personifications of Hope and Chastity among them (I read that on the internet). A couple of angels fly upwards, carrying with them what look like a church and a nice-looking jacket.

At the bottom of the picture are a pair of seriously annoying kids throwing stones and sticks at the bride, while – bottom left – a young man follows in the footsteps of Francis by giving his jacket to another poor, pale figure in rags. Bottom right there are wealthy citizens who appear to be pretty scornful of the whole thing. Maybe they’re just annoyed because they’ve seen what the caterers have got lined up.

It’s an unlikely bit of art, but it makes a point, doesn’t it? Whatever you know about Francis of Assisi, forget that stuff about him being the patron saint of fluffy bunnies. Ever since his life – and death – people have pointed to Francis as the best example of what it really means to be a Christian. He rejected wealth, status and power so that he could serve others. He helped build the local church (literally) and chose to align himself with society’s outcasts rather than their success stories. He gave up everything for the greater prize of walking in the footsteps of the Son of God.

Giotto was right: in many ways Francis was so committed to a life of integrity and service that he became intimately, permanently, devotedly connected to poverty. He chose it, embraced it and found through it great support, wisdom and strength. And poverty – though it comes in rags and appear pallid – is connected to God. Remember those wings?

Where would you place yourself in this picture? Mocking and hurling missiles with the little ones? Trying to emulate Francis? Pouring scorn as you turn your back? Or are you closer to the action: are you like one of those celestial spectators, adding your voice and your support to those embracing a life less ordinary? Or are you ragged and pale, hoping for help? Or does desperation and need feel like something that stirs you to action?

Perhaps it isn’t as clear as identifying one character to sum us up. Perhaps the answer to all of these is to some extent ‘yes’. Aren’t we all a swirl of cynicism and doubt, of wanting to be a disciple and wanting to get as far away as possible, of observer and observed, of poverty and strength, of needing help and giving it? Aren’t we all the brat, the beggar and the blessed servant?
And aren’t we all unlikely candidates for any of this? Aren’t our attempts at acts of kindness and service unlikely building blocks for the kingdom of God? Aren’t these songs we write and sing unlikely tools? Aren’t there other people out there who can do it better, sing it stronger, live it louder?

We shouldn’t let our hesitation or lack of qualification get in the way of our serving any more than we should allow our ego and pride to take the glory.

Many people have wondered what it was about Francis that made him so good a follower of Jesus. I’ve wondered too, and to be honest when I have found visited Franciscan churches in search of the answer I have only ever left feeling less sure of it all. Perhaps that’s because forming a movement, adopting a uniform and creating a system of hierarchy and structure misses the point that Francis – and Giotto – clearly understood.

None of this is about our qualification, our experience or our expertise. As Francis stands there, badly dressed, a little awkward, a little too small and a little too rotund – Giotto has depicted Jesus leaning away from him, head tipped to one side, arm outstretched. He does not look at Poverty – he knows her well enough already – but he looks at Francis with a quizzical warmth that seems to say… I know there are a thousand reasons why you’d say no to this, but – unqualified and unlikely as you are – will you say yes? Are you in? Will you say yes?

Well, will you?

let’s start back with something to smile about…

A little Friday wisdom


If your face is swollen from the beatings of life, smile and pretend to be a fat man.

Nigerian proverb

Francis Chan, new Basic DVD teaching series, worldwide premier 13.05.10

Here in the UK it seems like the last month has been made up of many nights where we have listened to people talk about change. From televised debates to marathon election coverage, everyone’s been wondering how the future might look, asking whether we are on the verge of something truly revolutionary.

Well, last night in a small cinema just off Leicester Square, author, speaker and face of Basic (a new series of DVDs by the makers of Nooma) Francis Chan went one better. Instead of offering himself up as the pied piper for us to follow, he planted in the audience something far more precious and sustainable: the sense that with small steps but big hearts, we can be the disciples – and the Church – that Jesus intended.

If you put it down in words it all seems so simple: restoring a healthy fear of God, ditching the baggage we have rammed into our church services, breaking out of the me-first approach to life, opening up our homes, sharing our stuff and scrapping the idea that Christianity is a solo spectator sport. Simple, yes, but when you see it in action – and Francis practises precisely what he preaches – it has the potential to change lives in ways that no political plan could ever match.

This is nothing new. From the early apostles to the desert fathers, from Francis of Assisi to an underground army of Christians today, there have always been people who have made the decision to live the way Jesus told us to. All that Francis is doing is helping to turn up the lights, to show who else is travelling the road, and ask each of us whether we are ready to take the next step for ourselves.

lost and found

Seems like this one got removed from YouTube soon after it was broadcast, but I found it this morning. Since I’m thinking about the power of percussion these days, it makes sense to see just how good it can get…

cruisers or charity workers: what type of tourist is worse?

Pity those poor fools who signed up for the Caribbean cruise that failed to alter its course after the Haitian earthquake. There they were this week, living it up with barbecues on golden beaches while the stench of death and suffering drifted by.

I just got an email from a friend at a charity who told me that for three hours today he was making plans for a trip to Haiti next week. I told him that I thought it was good that he’d since had the trip canceled. I wonder if there’s going to be a bit of a backlash against certain charities after the dust has settled. I know I’m feeling a bit cynical about it all.

You see, these times of national disasters are also times of great potential for charities like my friend’s. If they don’t appear to be doing things then their market share is threatened. Marketing is now a part of disaster relief.

Now, I know that so many of the charities do good work, and I know that people taking a cruise is also a reasonable way to spend your time and money. But the confluence of both on the island of Haiti right now makes me sad. In fact, I’m less disappointed with the cruise-ship tourists than I am with the disaster tourists. Ok, perhaps that’s a little strong, but I know that there’s considerable pressure to get some decent footage with logos highly visible.

What’s worse; near-total ignorance or mild exploitation?

anyone up for dying?

I watched ‘The Age of Stupid’the other day and it didn’t quite do for me. It seems like there’s a limit to the amount of clips predicting our imminent destruction that I can happily watch. That limit’s about fourteen, by the way.

If you scream ‘THE BUILDING’S ON FIRE’ continually for ninety-minutes there comes a point when someone’s going to ask where the fire exits are. I only really counted one. It was a clip of George Monbiot talking about the need for massive civil action. Remember the fight against apartheid? The Civil Rights movement? The suffragettes? These are the blueprints that we have for turning back egregious problems. These are the footprints we must follow, marching in crowds of millions, forcing regime change, being ready to die.

And that’s the problem. There may be plenty of people dying as a result of climate change already, but is anyone up for becoming a martyr for the cause? Will anyone lay down their life for 2 degrees? Would any of us go to the grave for the right to have the luxury of our consumerist lifestyles utterly depleted?

No. I didn’t think so. Not yet, at least.

two bits to read

An interview with a nice guy from Christian Aid’s online magazine…

And something up on Soul Survivor’s imag.

And I took great delight in deleting my Twitter account today. I feel free. As a bird. Free to chirp and tweet without the need to wonder who might be listening to my noise.

And no, the full irony of that last sentence has not been lost on me.

C