"Listen . . ." Rest in Peace to a Legend of a Neighbor

A couple months after I arrived in Jacksonville in 2009, the women's ministry from one of our church partners put together Christmas baskets for us to share with families in the neighborhood. We had one left and my boss had an idea where to stop. This was my first time meeting Ronald Wesley Pauline, as he was always careful to introduce himself. When he saw us coming, his first question was, "You got any brandy in there?" This was my clue that Mr. Ron might be a different kind of neighborhood partner.

Mr. Ron grew up in Jacksonville in a very different era and had fond memories of the olden days that he was happy to share with all. He later went to Florida A&M and then spent over four decades in St. Paul, Minnesota doing community development there before retiring back to Jacksonville about twenty years ago. Upon coming home, he bought a house in Brentwood, which had been a segregated middle-class white neighborhood when he was growing up and he'd always thought the neighborhood had beautiful gardens. So, he moved into that neighborhood he'd never been accepted in before and pretty quickly his retirement turned into starting a new organization that built more than 20 houses in the neighborhood. But being a community developer, he always carried an emphasis that his goal was for these first-time home buyers to put down long-term roots in the community. The last home he built was my house, in fact. He then re-retired and started a garden on Basswood Street. 

He ran that Community Nutritional Garden for about eight years before handing it over the 2nd Mile a few years ago. Even though we became the legal owners he was a constant presence. Anytime we had an event at the garden he was sure to stop by and he wasn't shy to share ideas for improvements (and his disapproval of any changes we made in the space). Over the years, hundreds of our college mission team students volunteered with Mr. Ron as he both put them to work at the garden and cleaning up the streets, but also offered to them any and all wisdom he had to offer. 

I can still clearly picture the time a group of 25 students from Wisconsin were set to work with Mr. Ron as gray clouds started to gather overhead. Mr. Ron had them circle up and talked to them for over 45 minutes about community, neighborhood values, life choices, and a myriad of other topics before abruptly closing with, "Anyways, I knew it was going to rain today but I thought you should hear all that" and then dismissed them.

Mr. Ron could always be counted on to come out for the community as well. He was a fixture at our neighborhood meetings with a very clear concern that the work he cared about and the ideas he held dear would be passed along to future generations. Ideas like neighborhood pride, personal responsibility, collaboration, and respect for elders were guaranteed to come up in any conversation.

But, most of all, Mr. Ron was a member of our community here. Someone who wasn't shy to help or ask for help. He coordinated free mulch and fertilizer deliveries to the garden along with driving the truck (as long as we had the manpower to move it). He built relationships that could benefit the neighborhood. And we helped back, at times I served as his secretarial staff typing up letters for him or making photocopies.

Mr. Ron had many favorite idioms and mannerisms, but the one standing out the most was the way he started a new thought. In a deep-toned voice, with a guttural emphasis on the first syllable, and an elongation of the word he would project, "Lisss-ten . . ." then say something about child-rearing or yardwork or community care or non-profit management. He had a lot of opinions. Not all of them popular ones. And over time, I gained the relational capital where I could let him know when I disagreed because I certainly did a fair amount of the time. 

But, much like those college kids stuck in conversation as the rain rolled in, what I came to know was that the listening was an important part of our mission. When his truck pulled up outside our office, I knew my productivity would be put on hold for the next 45 minutes because that's the minimum length this conversation was going to be (as he got older it was going to take at least five minutes for him to get in and out!). In all these conversations though the concern was real. He wanted to check in. He wanted to hear me—for the fiftieth time—share what our mission was and ask clarifying questions (some of our particular values around Christian Community Development still never quite jibed with him). Over the years, I learned that taking those 45 minutes was absolutely good for me. Because if I can't take that time to love and listen to the community member in front of me, I've lost sight of the goal altogether.

Mr. Pauline received our Brentwood Hero award a couple years ago

In the past couple years, Mr. Ron paid us two of the greatest compliments I've ever gotten.

First, I'm always self-conscious of what our office looks like. There are any number of papers, supplies, and projects in various stages of completion scattered about; the walls are covered in a combination of memories, clipboards (to go with those projects), and inside jokes; and all of us share a small space that also serves as our volunteer break area and storage closet. What I'm trying to say is, it's a mess and we need to sweep more. 

And Mr. Ron had no time for mess. He once printed a t-shirt for the neighborhood association that said, "Cleanliness is next to Godliness" in bold letters and I had to convince him that this wasn't actually a verse in the Bible (I'm still not sure he agreed though). But, anyways, one day he came into our office, sank into a chair and said, "I like this office. It shows that you're actually doing things, not just talking about them."

I think a could have cried tears of joy.

In another case, less than a year ago, we were having a community association meeting and everyone was going around introducing themselves. While I always knew Mr. Ron generically appreciated us, I sometimes wondered to what degree he also just sort of put up with our shenanigans. But at that meeting, after his usual introduction he added more, "I'm Ronald Wesley Pauline and I've been working alongside 2nd Mile here for about 20 years and want to support what they're doing." To have him actively identify with us and our goals was truly one of the best votes of confidence we could ever get.

Last week, Mr. Ron passed away at 86. He would never let anyone forget his age. It was a proud accomplishment of his. We're going to miss him around here. But his legacy will be felt everyday--literally every time I walk through the doorway of my home—but also in how we become neighbors, listeners, and co-laborers towards the good of this neighborhood this and every day going forward.

Rest well, Mr. Ron.

The People We Are Becoming

At this moment, I'm seeing a lot of conversation about the deserving or undeserving poor, about government benefits, and about food stamps. It sparks a few thoughts and concerns. I'm concerned for the 42 million Americans who are on the verge of losing their SNAP benefits (colloquially known as food stamps). This is an acute crisis and while many generous people will step up and help bridge this gap, many will inevitably fall through the cracks.

But I'm also concerned for those who aren't directly impacted. In at least three ways, I'm concerned about their place, their path, and their perpetuity.1

First, while placing a large grain of salt on the table acknowledging that "the internet isn't real life", lots of people online are showing that they don't interact with (at least knowingly) anyone who depends on food stamps. But, through my neighborhood I have daily proximity to people on SNAP. I know that people need it. And if it goes away, they still will find ways to eat, but that means they might not pick up their prescriptions anymore. Or the electricity might get cut off. There will be inevitable knockdown effects. When you know real people in your real life, it is much harder to cast aspersions about the "deserving poor". If you don't believe me, come trade places with us sometime.

Beyond this however, those without residential proximity to the poor actually are interacting with people on SNAP on a daily basis. Unfortunately, its not as brothers and sisters at church or neighbors invited over to their porch. They are the service workers checking out your groceries, cleaning up at the hospital, and serving as crossing guards to get your kids across the street. And the reality is, the price of those groceries is directly impacted by the fact that those workers earn a low wage that necessities extra assistance. Unless you are lobbying for Walmart to raise their prices so they can increase their worker's salaries, I don't want to hear about freeloaders.2

Next, we can engage in a healthy discussion about government services and economic policies, but what we cannot do is defame the image of God in other people created and loved by Jesus. This is not an option. Comments along the lines of "42 million people will lose food stamps, but 39 million of them need to get a job" or worse are destructive for both the subject and the speaker.

Each of us is constantly being formed into something heavenly or something dastardly. I've come to believe this at my core. The regenerative and redemptive power of the Holy Spirit means that all things can be worked for good and that in all places and times we can call upon Him for help as he molds and shapes us, but we are still responsible for the trajectory our lives take. Comments like those above harden hearts. They make us ugly inside (and outside). They make us look like something other than "little Christs".

In The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis applies this metaphor to imagine the afterlife as a place where Hell is a place occupied by those who continue on in a d-o-w-n-w-a-r-d trajectory for eternity. A place where souls are given the freedom to give into bitterness and selfishness ad infinitum. It's an exceedingly ugly picture. We do well to consider how we are allowing ourselves to be formed today by the voices we listen to, the talking points we espouse, and the level of vitriol we are willing to tolerate. If you find yourself surrounded by these voices, it will benefit your soul to shut them out. If you allow me to make a provocative statement, a lot of American Christians would need to treat dehumanizing political content the same way they approach explicit sexual content. Get a filter. Get an accountability group. Repent.

Finally, these times bring up a concern for the eternity of those cheering on cuts to SNAP. I'm not a fire and brimstone guy, but I do take seriously the text of Matthew 25, from which I agree with the interpretation that it tells us that "justice is the grand symptom of a real relationship with God."3

The Rev. James Forbes has said "Nobody gets to Heaven without a letter of reference from the poor" and I think he strikes the chord just right. If Jesus (and Paul and Moses and Isaiah and Amos and Augustine and Calvin and . . .) have told us that doing right by the poor is part of the Christian life we don't get to disagree and still call ourselves Christians. You can disagree4, but, you don't get to treat the poor with disdain and claim the name of Christ. You might follow a religion of Westernism or Americanism or Christendom, but it's not being shaped by Jesus. He won't recognize or claim it.

Proverbs 14:31 tell us "Whoever oppresses the poor taunts his Maker, but he who is gracious to the needy honors him."

Let us act, speak, and believe in line with his will.

1: Give me bonus points for alliteration

2: A 2020 study found that Walmart is one of the largest employers of SNAP recipients in the nation and that the overwhelming majority of SNAP beneficiaries are full-time workers. In Arkansas, where Walmart is headquartered, over 3% of the state's total SNAP recipients are Walmart employees.

3: "A deep social conscience, and a life poured out in service to others, especially the poor, is the inevitable sign of real faith, and justice is the grand symptom of a real relationship with God. If you know Him, it will be there. It may come slowly, but it will come. If it doesn’t, you don’t have the relationship you think you have. Do you understand that this is at the heart of biblical faith? Do you see the importance of justice?" Tim Keller from an October 2005 Sermon

4: And again you can disagree on the role of government in this action, but if that's your position you need to be living a life that actively combats poverty in great and small ways.

*The title of this blog post is a nod to the excellent album by Christian hip hop artist nobigdyl. (make sure you spell it right, all lowercase with a period at the end). He's great.

All The Trees Will Clap Their Hands

In the past few weeks we have seen the launch of a new program from one of our partners that seeks to engage children with nature. This effort is well organized and very deeply grounded in all kinds of research that shows a myriad of positive outcomes for youth when they spend time outside in everything from their mental health to their grades. 

Something I have appreciated about the organizers is that they have been committed to making their ideas applicable to our neighborhood context. Their prescription is not, "Get a State Parks permit, drive out of town, and spend the whole day at the springs" because while that is certainly a great way to experience nature, it's not always available or something our neighborhood might respond to. But instead, the approach has been to encourage students to realize that nature is everywhere. They can listen for birds in the neighborhood. They can watch the magnolia trees bloom and learn about the different functions of the flowers, seed pods, and more. Even just closing your eyes and being aware of which direction the hum of a cicada is coming from has a grounding effect.

I've been amazed to see how being involved even impacts my view of the world. A couple weeks ago we had one of our "Church in the Garden" events and we should have had a film crew for the nature project there because the garden bed we were working on with another family was basically an informercial. There were worms, centipedes, and flowers. We were identifying plants and how to tell the weeds from the crops. At one point our daughter yelled out in joy, "I just want to watch butterflies!"

All of this leads me to be more responsive to the fact that God is in the midst of all of this. 

I can sometimes be prone to the idea that humans are "brains on sticks". I love discussing ideas and can get lost in the implications of philosophy and theology. Even though that might be my proclivity and the bent of much of the American church, the Scriptures make it very clear that we are embodied and in a living environment. And that these facts matter very much.

For many years, I've had a fondness for Isaiah 55. In college I would sometimes wander into the Catholic church next to the library during breaks because even though it wasn't my church, I knew they kept it unlocked and sometimes I would pull a random Bible off a shelf and table and read that passage. Then, I usually would leave it open to the page hoping the next person to come through might "randomly" get to read the same words that mean so much to me.

The poem has an incredible amount of memorable content. Almost any verse could be plucked out and printed on a magnet or coffee mug and be marketed. And most likely you have seen it done. But, today while reading I found myself gravitating to the last few lines: 

"You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace;

the mountains and the hills will burst into song before you,

and all the trees of the field with clap their hands.

Instead of the thornbush will grow the pine tree,

and instead of briers the myrtle will grow.

This will be for the LORD's renown,

for an everlasting sign,

which will not be destroyed."

Repetition helps me dive deeper still and I love how The Message renders the passage:

"So you'll go out in joy,

you'll be led into a whole and complete life.

The mountains and the hills will lead the parade,

bursting with song.

All the trees of the forest will join the procession,

exuberant with applause.

No more thistles, but giant sequoias,

no more thornbushes, but stately pines--

Monuments to me, to God,

living and lasting evidence of God."

What a promise. What an image.

It is an understatement to say that nature testifies to God's greatness. The ocean. A mountain. A sunset. The glorious capybara all point to this. But, even more is going on here. This is not just the passive existence of beauty and splendor that point to a Creator, this is nature joining in exuberant praise in response to some future, promised happening. 

As with most of the prophetic writings these verses tie into the idea of exile. The joyful event--so joyful it makes trees applaud with their non-existent hands--is the return of God's people from their exile to Babylon. 

We, too, are a people of exile. We live in a world that is broken. Where things are not as they ought to be. It is in the great and the small. It is in our systems and institutions and it is inside our own hearts. Like these ancient exiles, we hold to a promise that one day there will be an overflow of joy. One day the exile will end and the broken things will be put back right. And when that happens, it will all be too much to contain within mere prose. The healing of all things is like mountains in the midst of song and dance. It is like trees on parade. It is seeing the thorns transformed from threat to pure beauty. 

When we look around--be it that redwood in a protected land or a live oak in Brentwood, the trees, nature itself can be a reminder of the promise that one day joy, love, peace, wholeness, and justice will reign. One day the exile will break and we will join in with shouts of praise. 

Google Reviews, Language, and Formation

There are certain bywords that raise my alarm bells.

As a foster and adoptive parent an obvious one is "actual kids" used in context: "Are you going to have actual kids someday?" It can be confusing because I can assure you, these children are not mythical. They are indeed flesh and blood. We can feed them a piece of fish a la Luke 24:42 if one insists.

Another linguistic eyebrow raiser is "urban". While this is a word in the dictionary and has legitimate uses, sometimes it is used as a synonym for "Black" and I know enough Black folks from rural Georgia to know that's not alright.

One of the most common examples comes with the word "sketchy" as in "sketchy neighborhood" or "sketchy part of town". A good friend of mine likes to say, "There's no such thing as a good or bad neighborhood." And I think all of us know this inherently on some level. Every community, people group, church, and neighborhood is a collection of people who fall all over the moral spectrum.

A quick quiz will reveal this to us quite clearly. Think of the neighborhood you grew up in, whether it was good or bad and answer:

• Was there anyone who was notably rude?
• Was there anyone who was notably kind?
• Was there anyone who seemed nice, but later revealed themselves to be anything but?
• Was there anyone you once feared that revealed themselves to be delightful? (James Earl Jones in The Sandlot I'm looking at you!)

This topic was recently sparked for me by seeing a Google Review for a mural around the corner from our neighborhood.

This mural (which I've mentioned before) commemorates a neighborhood known as Sugar Hill that once stood on the spot. And while I'm not here to put anyone on blast*, I do think this negative way of communicating and thinking is common. It's worth engaging and countering. Here are four reasons to be cognizant of the way we speak about a place.

1. Reinforcing Poverty

In a study called "Voices of the Poor" the World Bank interviewed people experiencing material poverty all over the world: Albania and Appalachia to Vietnam and Zambia. This study found that while people did talk about a material lack of money or possessions, they more starkly spoke of the social and emotional costs of poverty. They spoke of being isolated, dehumanized, and mistreated. To be poor is to be treated as "less than". And this treatment had a real cost.

Language that labels has the active effect of increasing the experienced poverty of those living in it.

2. Inherent Dignity

"God said, 'Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness'" - Genesis 1:26 

Every person you've met . . . you know what, C.S. Lewis makes this point better than I ever could in his essay The Weight of Glory: 

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.

Human beings and the communities they form collectively are incredible and ordained with God's goodness. We ought honor and protect them.

3. The Footprint of History

We can come off foolish when we label a community without background knowledge. The Sugar Hill neighborhood is an example of this. If its history is examined, one will find that Sugar Hill was once a middle-upper class African American community. It was the home of Abraham Lincoln Lewis, the first Black millionaire in Florida. It was a vibrant neighborhood and connected to the arts and other historic Black neighborhoods nearby, but when Interstate 95 was being planned the chosen route ran directly over top of Sugar Hill. Much of the community was torn down and the interconnected Black neighborhoods on either side of the Hill were now disconnected and isolated from one another.

And none of this was accidental. The urban planning process never is. So, even if one wants to label it as a "bad neighborhood" a consideration of the context should disabuse our certainty in label placing.

4. Our Own Formation

To riff off of Lewis' last line above, the way we see others, the thought patterns we develop, the habits we fall into when considering one another's humanity has consequences. Historians will tell us about how this has played a role in wars and genocides. Horrors. And further, if we, as Lewis does, believe the part of God's image within us makes us immortal, then the moral arc that we are on will continue into eternity. Bitterness, superiority, and defamed thinking will progress steadily for centuries and millennia to their diabolical conclusions—unless interrupted by grace.

For our own sake, we need to be formed in the way of Jesus, in the pattern of love, and in care for those around us no matter what type of neighborhood they might live in.

To be a being imbued by the very image of our Creator, we can also direct his love, kindness, and grace out through our actions as we align with him in his work of redemption. Let us join his restoration project.

*I must admit I know I, too, am capable of misusing language or overlooking context. Just recently, someone questioned me on my use of the word "hood" when describing our neighborhood. I use it because it is a word that the community uses in a neutral, even positive way without negative connotation. But the person was right to ask me because when flippantly using that term around an experientially diverse audience, my attempt at sincerity might unintentionally bring disrepute on the community.

Thermostats

Acts 19 tells the story of the early church in the ancient city of Ephesus. The abstract of the summary version is this: Paul and some other leaders begin to preach and dialog with those in Ephesus and grow a small band of followers. A contingent of local merchants, who make their money in the crafting of physical idols and replicas, become upset and lead a riot against the nascent Christian movement. The riot is quelled and Paul continues his ministry in a new region.

What most strikes me about this narrative though is the strong reaction of those in Ephesus against the Jesus followers. They are so upset, their values are so threatened, their source of idolotrous income is so imperiled that they take to the streets with rage. At one point the text says they chant a single phrase in anger for over two hours. 

Today, though our economy could still be described as being built on idolatrous values, we don't see riots in the streets against Christians. 

A couple facts. 

1. Depending on how quantified, somewhere between 35%-75% of Americans identify themselves as followers of Jesus. 

2. We all know that there are practices that take place in our businesses that belittle people, oppress workers overseas, and take advantage of the poor. And we'd be right to identify these practices as unchristlike.

Most often our answer to why we allow it would be that its just the system we have or the cost of doing business, but someone, somewhere is signing off on these decisions. And if the statistics are to be believe there is at least a 1/3 chance and likely a much higher one that the corporate manager or the Board members approving these choices also would identify as Christians.

So what happens here? Why the disconnect? Why does no one stand up and say, "No."?

I think it is this. When they (or we) walk into that boardroom, we carry a primary identity of something other than Christian (a little Christ in the original language). We might be thinking of ourselves as an employee, a shareholder, a steward of company wealth, or any other number of things, but when we chose the practices (in ways great and small) that don't line up with the way of Jesus, we expose where our true allegiance lies.

I write all this with humility, knowing I also feel these pressures pull at me in their own ways. No, I don't sign off on any sweatshops across the ocean, but the allegiance confusion strikes me all the same.

In his Letter from the Birmingham Jail, Martin Luther King Jr hit this chord asking:

“There was a time when the church was very powerful. In those days the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society. Whenever the early Christians entered a town, the power structure got disturbed and immediately sought to convict them for being ‘disturbers of the peace’ and ‘outside agitators.’ But they went on with the conviction that they were ‘a colony of heaven,’ and had to obey God rather than man. They were small in number but big in commitment. They were too God-intoxicated to be ‘astronomically intimidated.'”

Oh, that we too might be so defined and filled by God's Spirit that we would change the temperature by our mere presence and voice. 

Under Our Feet

Four years ago, I picked running back up as my primary hobby. I'd run since high school and off and on in the decades (gasp) since, but started with a new consistency when lockdown hit and I needed something that got me outside for at least 30 minutes a day. It's been a balm. I've run almost every path and road within a two mile radius of home. Sometimes I'll take off and make it my goal to cross as many bridges as I can on one long meandering run. It's quite a feeling of accomplishment when you find yourself in another neighborhood that would have taken you ten minutes to drive to and you've arrived there on foot . . . and then you realize you need to make your way back home on foot.

About ten years ago, I became familiar with the work of Bryan Stevenson and the Equal Justice Initiative when I saw a recording of an event he did with Tim Keller on YouTube. I was impressed and impacted. And still too this day, I have not heard a clip, listened to a interview, or read anything from him that has not somehow left me challenged. Their organization does incredible work in civil rights and amongst these is a remembrance project where they are seeking to draw attention and memorialize the history of race-based lynching throughout the United States. Both at their main memorial and museum in Montgomery and on a local level where they have set aside memorials to be claimed and displayed by every county in the country where a lynching has taken place.

For the past two years, I have had the pleasure to work (in a very small way) alongside a non-profit in Jacksonville that is seeking to build an urban path system known as the Emerald Trail that once completed will total 30 miles of new and refurbished, interconnected trails that bring beauty, activity, economic development, recreation, and environmental restoration across over a dozen neighborhoods locally. It has been encouraging to see tangible progress of this trail come together as my running habit has persisted. New trees get planted along one section. A new path is paved elsewhere. And a portion of this trail runs directly through our neighborhood, Brentwood.

These threads were tied together for me recently as I was on a run through a particularly beautiful section of the trail that runs through our neighborhood. In fact, this specific stretch is where we took some of our wedding photos. As I ran, I noticed a plaque I'd never seen before. So, I debated in my mind the two highly held values and which would win out of 1) Always read the plaque or 2) Never stop on a run (I've run over a mile out of my way before to avoid having to stop and wait at a red light). This time the desire for knowledge won out and I paused my run to see what this plaque read.

And to my surprise this placard had been installed by the Equal Justice Initiative. They had installed the sign to mark the site of the 1919 murder of Bowman Cook and John Morine, two Black World War I veterans who were lynched by a mob of 50 white men at this spot. This story was news to me. I consider myself something of a neighborhood historian and someone aware of the history of racism and terror in our community, but I knew nothing of this even though it was less than a mile from home. Furthermore, when sharing this "news" with others I learned the plaque had been in place for three years already. It was hiding in plain site and I was unaware.

And this is the story of injustice. It lives in the soil beneath our feet whether we acknowledge it or not. It seeps into the ground where we make our home whether we know about it or not. It is there as we pursue our hobbies, drive our roads, and live our lives. Not only in the past, but the story persists into the present. After the murder, Mr. Cook's body was mutilated and then left outside of a Confederate monument in downtown Jacksonville. In future years, the City of Jacksonville would establish their City Hall directly in front of that monument. The memorializing statue would not be removed until over 100 years after that murder. When it was finally removed, the Mayor had it done unannounced and under the cover of darkness to avoid violence.

If we take another stretch of the Emerald Trail, you'll find a mosaic that's been installed in honor of a neighborhood called Sugar Hill. The public art piece is found under an overpass of I-95. Why? Because Sugar Hill was a thriving Black neighborhood that was selected to be demolished to pave the way for the highway. This was not a coincidence. And it is a pattern and story that was repeated in dozens of cities across the country. And not limited to the South.

Just a quarter mile down from Sugar Hill, another section of the trail runs along through the Durkeeville neighborhood near Beaver Street. This whole area was subject to ash pollution that required much of the topsoil in the whole area to be removed and replaced with clean fill in recent decades. Again, the location of the industrial incinerator that caused this contamination in a Black neighborhood, was also no accident.

And we could go on, another portion of the trail runs through the Brooklyn neighborhood, which I've written on before, as another community torn up via mid-century highway construction.

But, when we examine this history under our feet, we'd be remiss to just craft a story of oppression, violence, and destruction. Because there's more than that. There is beauty and triumph to be told as well. The La Villa neighborhood was the Harlem of the South and home to Zora Neale Hurston, James Weldon Johnson, and other playwrights, filmmakers, and artists. Near the southernmost section of the trail, there is a historic Black church that a friend of mine pastors. It is over 160 years old and most of its founding members were formerly enslaved. This congregation has prayed, worshipped, and gathered for many generations of faithfulness. We ought to celebrate that. Along the path you'll find sites where Martin Luther King spoke and where the land is being regenerated, creeks long covered in concrete are being daylighted, and flowers are blooming.

As I write this, the day in Juneteenth. This day celebrates the joyous news of Emancipation reaching the state of Texas on June 19th, 1865. And as we commemorate it, we must note that this was two and half years after the Emancipation proclamation and over two months after the surrender at of the Confederacy that had ended the Civil War. Justice delayed and denied again and again. As we consider our history, our land, our roads, and more, we must hold all of this. Injustice exists under our feet, but so does great joy and beauty. 

We do well to lament, celebrate, and act for a more just future.

 

The Case for Ineffective Altruism

In recent weeks, a philanthropic movement called effective altruism has found itself tangentially in the news cycle. To read this post, you need not understand the depths of the movement and you don't need to familiarize yourself with why this has been in the news. As a further disclaimer, I'm not writing to perform some kind of "take down" of effective altruism, really this is more of a response from someone who has spent thirteen-plus years now in the non-profit space professionally, but also living alongside neighbors who many altruists would see as "clientele". Lastly, I'll acknowledge up front, much of this is more-or-less a philosophical disagreement that starts with definition of terms. What I mean by "good" and "impact" is simply coming from a different starting point than most effective altruism proponents.

Those caveats stated . . . let's dive in.

Effective altruism is a movement that seeks to use "evidence and reason to figure out how to benefit others as much as possible, and taking action on that basis." It advocates ideas such as: 

• "Earn to give" that encourages individuals to seek as much wealth as they can so they can donate a much greater proportion than they could from a lower-earning career path. I heard a similar strategy suggested when I was in campus ministry, but those talks seemed directed at the folks in the room with more upward-bound career paths than those of us rocking Political Science/Religious Studies double majors.
• Impartiality, whereby, giving is encouraged to rely on doing good rather than geographic or personal interests and
• Maximizing impact, where evidence-based approaches and measurable results are prioritized.

These are admirable goals, but my concern largely lies with that last framing of "maximizing impact". For this goal can lead down unintended roads.

First, when one says "evidence-based" this means relying on metrics and all their weaknesses. Don't get me wrong, I personally collect data and do analysis on it to observe effectiveness. But also, I could spend my time doing better things. And I'm 100% certain all those kids filling out pre-test bubbles could be doing more effective things with their time. But, more concerning, this also opens a wide door for all sorts of disinformation to enter the picture. When funding and planning are tied to specific metrics, an incentive for deception and hyperbole is inevitably created. I've been asked to review enough funding proposals for other organizations that I can say with confidence that all "metrics" are not created equal or necessarily truthful.

Second, life is complicated. If we use my neighborhood as an example, the challenges and causes of generational poverty are multifaceted, so too are the solutions. And any examination of this requires an extreme amount of nuance. As an example, let's take a student of ours (renamed) Tariq. He was a student around when I first moved to Jacksonville. He's doing great today. He finished high school , then later got a degree and is progressing towards multiple advanced degrees. He's happily married and raising two kids with his wife. From his starting point this is a great outcome, but how do we assign the impact? He had an amazing mentor with our organization. That no doubt left an impact. But he also was part of ROTC in high school, surely they would claim some credit. His mother got a job that provided greater stability to the family in the midst of his adolescence, this too plays a role. He joined the military after high school, which is what made college-possible. He had entrepreneurial mentors who worked with him on considering career paths. And I could go on and on. Who most "maximized the impact" on him? 

I thank God for every single one of those people and circumstances, but it would be foolish to assign one as the "evidentiary champion". 

And all of this is not to mention the reality of systemic and institutional structures around all of this and how they play a role. Even with the best research, methods, and efforts prying apart impact is going to be a challenge!

Finally, and my primary impetus for writing here, not to make this a personal essay, but so much of what I spend my time on is terribly inefficient, terribly ineffective, and terribly unmeasurable, but I still believe its valuable. I still think it has a tremendous impact. 

A former co-worker of mine frequently said, "Step one for one person is step twenty for another person" and honestly, it took me a long time to understand what he meant by it. But then I thought of two people in our organization's "success story" column. One of them, finished high school and stepped into a full-ride college scholarship. Another, dropped out of high school and took until he was 27 to finish his GED and get a full-time job. And I would unequivocally say that both are tremendous examples of "maximized impact". 

That won't show up in a data set. I have no pie chart to demonstrate it. But I can say it, with confidence, without a hint of emotion or "pulling on heartstrings", that's impact. 

I run a program for senior citizens in our community. We do all kinds of activities (and have metrics for some to them), but also I frequently answer phone calls or chat with these seniors apart from the program requirements. From people who have no future earning potential. Who won't be increasing the GDP. Will start no small businesses. And may or may not lower their own blood pressures. But answering the phone when they call and talking, even just for 90 seconds is absolutely creating an impact on their lives.

So, as I laid out at the start, primarily there is a disagreement between me and the effective altruists about the definition of terms. I think it is very admirable for one to intentionally pursue a seven figure salary with the goal of donating 65% of it. Go for it. 

But as we, more broadly, go forward let us consider how impact is so often slow and full of stops-and-starts. And, honestly, sometimes, it never comes. Some stories end in tragedy. Even the happy endings all-too-often had close calls with utter disaster. But, if each person, and I do believe this, is made in the image of God as uniquely valuable and beloved, it is never a waste. It is never a bad investment to seek out that person. To spend time and resources on them. And to be present with them.

Even if the metrics don't like it. It's effective.