General News

It takes time and effort to find Grantmakers

Jackie Jones — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 17:51:13 GMT

It takes time and effort to find grantmakers that are truly good prospects, but the results can be worth the research efforts you expend. Keep your expectations realistic. Foundations and other grantmakers will not likely meet even a majority of your financial needs. Individual donations still account for the great majority of the funds given to nonprofit organizations. Currently, foundations and corporations combined only provide about 17 percent of philanthropic gifts, and only a portion of this is given for Christian projects. However, these funds can make all the difference for your project!

Do not focus all your efforts on one or two "perfect" funders. Many grantseeking churches and ministries have important missions, so you must seek a reasonably broad base. Develop a list with several viable options. Even experienced proposal writers often receive multiple letters of rejection for each successful grant. On the other hand, avoid compiling a lengthy list of "long-shot" prospects; mass mailing is a waste of everyone's time. Grantseeking should be viewed as a highly individualized process to be conducted in a businesslike manner.

The Last Calls from the World Trade Center—9/11

Jackie Jones — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 14:57:25 GMT

Over the past weeks, there’s been much written about the attacks on the World Trade Center. Richard Swenson, however, writes about a different aspect of those attacks.

    On the 103rd floor as the workers were beginning their day, they were at first unaware of the commotion on the floors below. But as the shock and horror unfolded, some were able to make last minute phone calls. Some of those phones were recovered. What did the rescuers find in those last minute phone calls?

    They weren’t calls to their broker to sell their stock. No phone calls were made to purchase new cars, sell old ones or to cancel the newspaper service. No, sadly, in the midst of trouble and the certainty of the end, a staggering clarity came into focus.

    The phone calls were made to spouses, children, loved ones, close friends. They were the last messages they would ever leave on this planet. They were messages of love, appreciation and gratitude.

    Oh may it not be said of us that we needed an airplane crashing into the building below us to bring clarity to our lives! But perhaps, just perhaps, we can take today, this day, and live with stunning clarity of those things that are important and eternal.

--William High is the President of the National Christian Foundation Heartland. He may be reached at whigh@nationalchristian.com.

Live Simply.

Jackie Jones — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 14:54:21 GMT

I don’t know about you but there’s a lot of noise in my life. Not long ago, I sought to eliminate much of the advertisement related email in my inbox. I set out faithfully to unsubscribe to everything I could.

    I’m not sure what happened. My email multiplied. So much for simplicity. Particularly in this day and age, the idea of simplicity is a foreign one. This week I attended a breakout session at a conference called Soul Care for leaders. One statement particularly stood out:

    Our iPhones, iPads and constant exposure to technology is killing our souls.

Think about it. How often do those silly things buzz? How often do we delay answering? How often do I set it aside?

    Socrates said it like this: “How many things are there which I do not want?” William Law said it this way: “If you attempt to talk with a dying man about sports or business, he is no longer interested. He now sees other things as more important. People who are dying recognize what we often forget, that we are standing on the brink of another world.”

    Indeed, I suspect that we all might say that our souls are dying for just a little bit of quiet so that we might reflect on what is true and meaningful.

--William High is the President of the National Christian Foundation Heartland. He may be reached at whigh@nationalchristian.com.

Laughter in the Sun

Jackie Jones — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 14:40:07 GMT

My daughter Jessica turned 20 yesterday—no longer a teenager. She came home from college to celebrate her birthday.

    The weekend passed by in a blur. We had soccer games, and she had friends to see, but in the midst of the hustle and bustle, she ran out.

    Well, let me clarify that. In the bright afternoon sun, she dressed up in one of her purple little dresses, camera in hand and headed to the park. She had a grin on her face, her step lively and said she was off on an adventure.

    An hour later she was back. She had flowers all up in her hair (does that sound like Butterfly Kisses?) and a little giggle. She’d been taking pictures among the flowers, and had gathered quite a bouquet. She dressed them elaborately for us on the table. She was tremendously pleased with herself, and her adventure in the sun.

    She’s always been that way. My Jessica (her name means “wealthy in God”). Even when she was little, she was the one to go off on adventures to pick flowers, study the bugs, and watch the sunset. We always enjoyed the sunsets, the power of the storm, and the newness of fresh mown grass.

    It’s those simple pleasures—living simply, giving generously that allow us to experience life. How often we need to see that even if our children must lead the way.

--William High is the President of the National Christian Foundation Heartland. He may be reached at whigh@nationalchristian.com.

Buy Dirt in the New Jerusalem

Jackie Jones — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 14:32:21 GMT

Who buys real estate in a land already conquered by the enemy? Foolish.

    But that’s what the prophet Jeremiah did. In Jeremiah 32, the Lord tells Jeremiah that his uncle is coming to sell him land. (By the way, what does this say about the uncle—he’s doing Jeremiah no favors by selling land already trod upon by the enemy!) In any event, the Lord tells Jeremiah to buy the land.

    So Jeremiah does. And he makes quite a show of it. He counts out 17 shekels of silver. He has the purchase witnessed by a crowd of elders. He wants the purchase to be official. Now consider the wonder of these officials! What kind of fool would buy land that’s already in enemy hands! What expectation could Jeremiah have of ever using the land?

    On the other hand, Jeremiah had long prophesied that while Jerusalem would be overtaken by Babylon, he had also prophesied that Jerusalem would be restored. And one day, the Lord promised that “houses and fields would again bloom.”

    This passage from Jeremiah is both historical fact and a promise. In fact, Israel did return to occupy their promised land. In the bigger scheme, it seems to me that the Lord is telling us to take our earthly treasure—our shekels of silver—and to invest in the new and coming Jerusalem. Indeed, invest in the coming city that cannot fail and that gleams in the midst of the destruction.

--William High is the President of the National Christian Foundation Heartland. He may be reached at whigh@nationalchristian.com.

Church Funding—On the Long Term Decline?

Jackie Jones — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 14:22:41 GMT

Across Europe, we’ve seen many great and historic churches close. Some now are owned by businesses. Some are converted to mosques.
    For many, the response to these closures is shock, dismay. For those wondering why, the answer is often the apparent decline of faith in these countries. But few are as quick to point to another cause: population decline.
    For years now, European countries have faced dwindling birth rates. On average, it takes at least 2.1 births per woman for most industrialized countries. In many European countries the birth rate is well below this—1.6. Put it bluntly, the churches are declining because there aren’t enough people to fill them. Couple this fact with a decline in faith, biblical worldview, evangelism efforts, affluence etc. and you have a real and fundamental problem.
    In the United States, we face a similar problem. Post WWII, the birth rate peaked at 3.8 per woman. It’s no surprise that the Boomer Generation numbers nearly 80 million people. On the other hand, the following years produced a smaller birth rate which now hovers around 2.1. It’s no surprise that Gen X, the generation following the Boomers, numbers only 69 million people.
    As the Boomers head to their retirement years in the next 15 years, their giving will drop. They’ll be replaced by a much smaller generation that must not only pay the Social Security of the Boomers but must also take their place for giving.
    It can’t be done. There are just less of them. We are likely heading for a giving crisis in our churches. One day, we’ll wake up and like Europe and wonder what happened to our fine buildings. There is hope, but we must address the issues now with renewed efforts in evangelism, discipleship and cultivation of a new generation of givers.

--William High is the President of the National Christian Foundation Heartland. He may be reached at whigh@nationalchristian.com.

Observations on the Sunrise

Jackie Jones — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 14:16:41 GMT

I’ve got the bug. I wake up early usually. That means I’m not deterred by early morning flights. And it works out that when I get those flights, well, I drive right into the sunrise.

    If you drive too early, its just blackness other than the shadows that emerge from the streetlights. But if you time it just right, you can see the sun just begin to peak up at the horizon. The colorful twinge begins with streaks of orange and grey. And as the light seems to move outward, it’s like a backlight for the clouds. It’s a masterpiece of brushwork.

    At every edge, the sun pushes at the darkness extending further and further until eventually the darkness surrenders. The light overcomes. The darkness cannot prevail. The light fills every crack and provides illumination for my path.

    I’m surprised that the light does not conserve. It does not hold back. It does not save itself for a rainy day. The sun just does what it is naturally called to do: provide light to the darkness. Certainly, there are days when the clouds try to obscure, but that’s all the clouds can do. They cannot prevent. The light is always there.

    Jesus said that He was the light of the world. We are in His image. Like the sun, it seems we are called to illuminate, to light up His creation, to make it more beautiful and His name more renowned. We are to not hold back, but just to “be”—to be filled with the light which only He gives. And in so doing, we help drive the darkness away.

--William F. High is the President/General Counsel of the National Christian Foundation Heartland. He may be reached at whigh@nationalchristian.com.

The Generous Donut

Jessica High — Wed, 07 Sep 2011 05:00:00 GMT

The Generous Donut

   Donuts can be generous.

   Let me explain. More than 17 years ago, my wife and I decided we’d pick a place and go there year after year for family vacations. That place was Estes Park, CO. The kids have enjoyed it, appreciate the routine and things they call ours—family traditions.

   Well, one of the places we’ve come to appreciate is the Donut Haus. The Donut Haus has been in business for more than 30 years. They make handmade donuts and pastries. They say their hours are 6am to 12am, but in truth, they are usually sold out by 10:30. So we’ve learned to get their early particularly if you want your choice.

   What’s their secret? How do they sell out so quickly? Generosity. They have generous donuts. My favorite is the raspberry filled donut. But this is no ordinary raspberry filled creation. In addition to light flaky pastry with just a light frosting glaze, this thing is filled edge to edge with raspberry. You need a napkin to catch the red raspberry dripping out.

   Other places skimp on the filling—just a dollop in the middle and lots of bread. They are stingy on the stuff that counts. So we don’t buy donuts anywhere or anytime but the one time we go out to Estes Park. Their generosity has earned my business. Alas, if they could only figure out mail order!

   Churchill said it: “we make a living by what we earn and we make a life by what we give away” -- even with donuts.

--William F. High is the President/General Counsel of the National Christian Foundation Heartland. He may be reached at whigh@nationalchristian.com.

Why was I not more generous?

Bill High — Fri, 10 Jun 2011 23:31:51 GMT

Regret. What is it? The dictionary defines it as: a feeling of disappointment or distress about something that one wishes could be different.

It that’s the case—disappointment over something we wish could be different—here’s the question: will we have regret in heaven? Will we wish something could be different?

Hey, heaven’s supposed to be the perfect place. No more crying. No more tears. The end of the suffering life. We’ll be with the eternal God and experiencing life in all its fullness. We’ve finally made it back to Eden. Right?

Certainly, here in this life we’ll experience regret. It may be the loss of a loved one, the moments we might have experienced with our children, the memory of a relationship that might have been saved or been better. But what about heaven? Will we wish that things were different there?

II Corinthians 3 describes our experience before the judgment seat of Christ. There, our deeds in the body will be tested by the eternal flame. Some of those deeds will be ashes—nothing more than wood, hay and stubble. Some of our deeds may be gold—worthy of eternal commendation.

I wonder. When the flames have consumed my deeds and the pile of ashes grow, will I, in that moment, have regret? Will I wish, experience distress over what might have been? Will I say “oh the people that I might have touched?” Will I exclaim, “oh! That was what I was supposed to do?” And perhaps, will I mumble to myself, “why did I hold on so tightly? Why was I not more generous?”

Some theologians have weighed in on the subject. Piper describes it as “regretful joy” in Life as A Vapor. I think certainly at the judgment seat of Christ there is going to be at lease a moment of regret before we enter into the bliss of the permanently forgiven.

But I think of this question as less theological and more practical for us today. Our challenge today ought to be to live a life of no regrets. It is a life in the spirit intent on his voice, and dare I say it a bit reckless in our pursuit of him. And the thought of that moment of regret at the Bema seat should well influence our conduct today.

What do you think?

William High is the President of the National Christian Foundation Heartland. He may be reached at whigh@nationalchristian.com.

The Haircutter’s Legacy

Bill High — Thu, 02 Jun 2011 18:08:15 GMT

You know how you intend to do some things and never really get around to them, and then it’s too late. So it is with this piece. I intended to write it a long time ago but life got in the way. Because it’s a bit overdue, you’ll have to be patient and read a bit longer.

    Roger Russell died on Friday, May 27. Let me explain why that is so important. My office is in a residential community called Olathe, Kansas. It’s famous for being part of the Santa Fe Trail, the westward expansion. We’ve had a lot of famous people cross that trail. It’s a place where pioneers and settlers met. Some ventured onward. Some settled and chose instead to carve a life out of the Kansas prairie.

    Roger’s family was one of those settlers—farmers they were. And with the farming comes hardship, hope for rain that sometimes never comes, crops that sometimes do arrive. All the while you learn to trust that this life is not about you. It’s about faith in a big God who supplies just in time. It’s about family that stands through thick and thin. And it’s about the flag—supporting all these values we hold dear and true.

    Roger was all of those. He joined the Marines, but wanted to come back home after his tour of duty. He told his dad that he wanted to make a living taking care of people—cutting hair, a barber, a stylist. I’m not sure of all the proper terms to describe what he did (maybe artist?), but I guess his dad got the message, although I sometimes wonder what the farmer thought of the stylist.

    But Roger was good at it—really good. He had that special knack of cutting your hair, styling it, and knowing what would make you look sharp. No one ever left his chair with less than his best. He started out with a shop in Mission, then Roeland Park, then Olathe. His customers followed him wherever he went.

    And that’s where I met him—in his shop, Roger’s Hairstyling. I usually scheduled my appointments on the way home. At that time, I was working downtown, and the trek was through traffic and stress. I’d collapse in his chair, and he’d go to work. But his magic, I guess, really wasn’t with hair. It was the stories. He’d ask questions—simple, non-threatening, quiet ones, and pretty soon you’d be telling some story that you’d forgotten. Before long Roger knew my entire life story.

    But it didn’t stop there. Roger admired my story, and he brought his own faith into the story. I heard of his own disappointments. I was there when his son was switching jobs and the uncertainty. I was there when his daughter struggled with the childless years. He was the one to give my own first born her first hair cut. We still keep that locket.

    I think you always want to remember people like Roger as your own, but of course he was not. Roger treated me the same way he treated every customer.   He gave the same dose of love and care. It’s a rare gift of a man who can make people look better while he makes them feel better about themselves. Sometimes when entering his shop, I saw other men and women leave with a smile on their face—troubles not gone, but bearable, better.

    For more than 40 years, he treated people that way. He brought the hope of Christ to many. Some just found hope. He died suddenly. I remember that he told me that was the way he wanted to go—nothing long and drawn out. I could tell more stories about him. He loved flowers. He loved growing them. He loved his wife. He loved his family. He loved crafts. He always had a booth at the annual craft fair appropriately called Old Settler’s Days. And he had a taste for bad food—that is food that was bad for you: fried chicken with the skin on it and these hotdog things deepfried called Grange Pups. There’s still more…

    At the visitation which started at 6, people began showing up at 5:30. By 6, there was a line out the door, and by 630 the line was snaking all throughout the church. I came in the door about the time two little old ladies were shuffling in; they were 96 and 94 and had been some of his first customers. My how they laughed and told how they loved him, and, oh, their hair looked sharp. I saw people in that visitation line that I had no idea that would have known him.

    How foolish of me! For more than 40 years, this settler had carved a life, yea, indeed a legacy out of this rough pasture. He’d brought grace and beauty to the weariness. And those who stood in line for hours were his testimony to a life lived well-- this man called Roger. His life, his legacy beckons us, calls us to examine and reexamine the state of our own story.

--William High is the President of the National Christian Foundation Heartland. He may be reached at whigh@nationalchristian.com.