When I looked at the millions of dollars – and what those dollars had done, I was a bit staggered. It felt good to think of my work in those terms. Ever since then, especially in moments when I feel frustrated with the uncertainties of non-profit work, I remember that moment – when I first really saw what I was doing, what it meant to the organizations I helped, and how it changed lives for many different kinds of people.

I came back to that moment when Kay Edwards asked me to say “how I view my work as worship.” It’s nothing mystical or esoteric. The worship in my work is part and parcel of the every day responsibilities that lead to the dollars that help people. Remembering that it IS worship keeps me focused on the most important things to do, the goals that I have set, and the aspirations I have for the organizations I serve. Remembering that it is worship is a constant reminder that I cannot do my best if I do not care deeply about the clients I’m serving. Remembering that it is worship helps me focus on the mission of each different organization. Remembering that it is worship can even make me impatient with others when we’re wasting time! Many times each month I have to thank that consultant who, so many years ago, showed me what my work was really all about. How about you?

My hope for this site has always been to feature the voices of people who are important to me. People who speak wisdom, who have accomplished things I admire, and who have inspired me to do more.

My friend and colleague, Carol Becker, has spent her life working with mission-driven organizations, helping them find their voice and tell the stories of the people they serve. I have always appreciated how committed she is to the success of everyone around her.

I asked Carol the question, "What part of your work do you think of as worship." I think you will enjoy her response.

I've heard a lot this week about "donor fatigue." I'm tired. I'm tired of being asked. I'm tired of the endless need. Maybe what we're really saying is, "I'm tired of being disappointed." Disappointed that the good efforts we put forth don't always create the outcome we want. Tired of the world not responding according to our plan.

I often tell my son that his job is to love, not to be loved. His job to worry about the effort he puts in, God's job to worry about the result. What if we gave back simply because it's the right thing to do? To serve for the joy of serving?

I'm not suggesting we shouldn't pay attention to the outcomes. I am the first one to say that God gives us the gift of discernment, and we use His gifts to figure out what creates impact, and what doesn't. To do otherwise is foolishness.

I'm suggesting we remember that our Heavenly Father loved us when we were unlovable, He loves us every time we fail, and He has promised to never tire of loving us. To serve for the pleasure of hearing His voice, feeling His touch of approval, falling at the feet of He who is pure love, pure service—isn't this enough? The worship is in the act of service.

What if we gave back for this alone?

    Was this the greatest temptation of Christ? My friend, Bob, thinks so. He tells me this story over lunch, after a long morning of work on his favorite volunteer projects. At 70-something he works as hard at giving back as he did at his first vocation.

    He says the work of the cross must have been so hard, the isolation so great, that it took all of Jesus' divine will not to get down. Not to walk away from it all, walk away from us. Certainly He had the right, the sinless, righteous right to leave us in our misery. Certainly we deserve it, stubbornly persisting in the things that bring us to our knees.

    Bob tells me that so many of his friends have chosen to get down off of their cross. “They worked so hard all of their lives,” he says. “They tell me they deserve to take it easy. The don't want to be bothered.”

    Why do we think this way? That there's a point in our lives when we can close up shop and stop thinking about the world? I catch myself daydreaming about the day I can do whatever I want. But are days full of not being bothered what I really want?

My father has a saying, “You quit farming, you die.” Like anything my father says, the really important things are said infrequently, and the trivial, not at all. He's the kind of weathered, rural wise man who smiles five minutes before he tells a joke, and we all know it will be a good one.

“You quit farming, you die.” I heard him say it every time one of his brothers died. The one who sold his farm and moved to town. The one who still walked the clothesline strung between the barn and the house long after his failed sight forced him to sell the cows and lease out the land.

Do we all need our version of farming to keep us alive? I'm not talking about the things most consider work, the exchange of eight hours of effort for a commensurate wage. I'm talking about the kind of thing that makes you forget that someone is paying you.

Where do you find your farm? Maybe you already have one, and you can't wait to quit working so you can get on with farming. If you don't, find one. Find one that makes you forget about yourself, and the aches you feel when you get up in the morning, and keeps you alive.

Have you thought about all the really worthy organizations that need all of the experience you have? Find one before you die.

About once every three days or so, in the middle of almost anything, I'm struck by this terror that the life I have now is surely screeching to an inevitable end.<< MORE >>

Someone told me the other day that Wall Street executives don't cut it in social service organizations. Is it true that we who live in the for-profit world lose our footing when we venture into the world of the not-for-profit? Or do we create our own “I'm the one who can save you, “ arrogance?

I want so much to be relevant, to be valued, to make an impact. How hard could this be?

Tell me, how have you used your for-profit experience in the not-for-profit world? What works? Are there any happy stories out there?

How differently do we see things?

The people who make the biggest impression on one's life are the ones who go full-out. The ones you admire, the ones whose passion rubs off, just by being around them, the ones who somehow live the thing that you wish you had the courage to do. We all know them, sometimes we've encountered them personally. Sometimes we just know their stories. The famous ones, the Mother Theresa's, the Ghandi's, the Rosa Parks'. Daring to give up in the name of passionate belief. I know a few personally. Tony and Joy Vento of SHALOM Ministries, Debbie Godsey of Kidz in the Hood. People who live every moment by faith, loving their neighbors more than they love a safe house in the suburbs and a paycheck every week. These people scare the hell out of me. And I crave that passion for my own life. That's why I hang around them.<< MORE >>

Greatness isn't a big moment or a single event in one's life. It is the sum of how one decides to spend each moment, a thousand mundane choices.<< MORE >>

Welcome to How To Give Back. Despite the name, this site is less about answers than it is about asking the right questions. My goal is to lift up the questions we all feel in our hearts. The questions that maybe we don't ask our family or friends or co-workers. Why me? How did I end up with so much, when others have so little? What did I do to deserve the blessings, and riches, and opportunities I have?<< MORE >>